de-hustling

De-hustling like it’s my job

…because, in actuality, it is my job.

I don’t want to hustle.

Been there…done that.

My generation was raised to think that we had to do it all to have it all. We have to be girl bosses and hustlers with 639574 streams of income paving our way in a man’s world showing everyone that we can – and will – do it all. Generate revenue, raise kids, live a dream life, do it all.

And I did.

And it sucks.

It’s exhausting. 5 am mornings writing articles for clients because my daytime hours are limited with kids. My laptop on my lap in the car on the way to the airport to vacation with my family writing articles for clients because I was programmed to believe taking time off and taking a break was bad. 10 pm with my laptop on the couch trying to simultaneously watch a movie with my husband while editing articles for clients because I just wanted to get ahead of the next day.

All to end up leaving it all behind in 2022 when the latest google update decided that no articles would receive high rankings – read: revenue – without being gender specific and catering to a pandering trend of pronouns and offended people and hurt feelings and my clients asking me to go back and re-write all my previously written pieces to be “less offensive” because using words like “he” and “mom” and “aunt” were now offensive to people who didn’t identify as a he or a mom or an aunt and all my writing should now only refer to moms and dads as ‘parents’ and aunts and uncles are too gender specific so we should refer to them as ‘parent’s siblings’ and no longer call anyone he or she because ‘they’ or ‘them’ is just less ‘offensive’.

Since I’m not putting my name on anything of the sort, I retired.

Left it all behind.

Do I miss writing?

Yes, I do.

Which is why I’m trying (keyword: trying, because the Good Lord knows my time is more limited now than ever before with the kids’ schedules) to be more present here on the blog where I can write anything I want and not give even the slightest fuck about offending anyone.

I miss writing.

Do I miss the hustle?

Not even a little tiny bit.

Zero percent.

I’m over it.

Hustle culture is nothing more than a way of shaming women into thinking they have to be everything to everyone all the time.

You can do anything, but you cannot do everything.

 And I cannot express that enough.

I can do anything.

But I’m certainly not fucking doing everything.

I’m doing what works for me.

Going back to traditional familial values.

Focusing on taking care of the kids and house while my husband provides a beautiful life for our family.

Focusing on being present for my husband and kids rather than distracted and always in a hurry.

Focusing on living a soft life with more emphasis on the little things that bring me actual joy rather than the big things that the world told me ‘should’ bring me joy (that actually only brought me exhaustion, frustration, and a bad attitude).

I am always going to be driven, motivated, and a doer.

I’ve simply decided that, at the moment, my drive, motivation, and do-er attitude should be directed somewhere other than the hustle culture – it should be directed where it actually matters. My family.

Temporarily opting out of the hustle to focus on what’s most important – time with my family – has been eye-opening for me.

Why, you ask?

Because saying no feels so fucking good.

Being still feels so fucking good.

Being in bed by 8 pm is a fucking gift.

Waking up in a good mood is priceless.

Being able to take time doing things that my family enjoys rather than rushing everyone through everything so I have more time to do it all is spectacular.

Saying yes to my kids and my husband and no to the things that don’t interest me is  beautiful.

My time, energy, and attitude improving tremendously…it shows in not just myself but also in our kids and our household.

Everyone is happier.

Everyone is lighter.

Everyone is having more fun.

I’d rather be present than proving myself to…who exactly? I certainly don’t need to impress myself (I already think quite highly of me).

The Season of Soft

Lingering over my morning coffee in the quiet hours of morning. Watering my plants. Making elaborate dinners. Baking after-school treats for the kids to enjoy. Watching my kids play sports without distraction. Long, leisurely morning walks with my pup. Vacations fully enjoyed because the only things waiting on me at home are the things I prioritize.

I sat down last week to catch up on Christmas wrapping after a day of heavy deliveries. The fireplace warming me as I wrapped. Christmas instrumentals playing softly throughout the house. The dog lying next to me wondering what in the hell I was doing that was so important I wasn’t petting her. I wrapped without rushing for the first time in my life because I finally have TIME. Time to enjoy things. Time to appreciate that I get to sit down on a random Tuesday and wrap gifts and enjoy the season. The realization hit hard, and I love it.

Redefining Success

For me, success once looked like productivity. It looked like writing 30,000 words in a day while taking the kids to school and picking them up and eating dinner together as a family before sitting back down to write some more.

Today, success looks like me focusing on the conversations I’m having with my kids rather than being half-distracted thinking about what needs to be done. Today, success looks like me inviting the kids into the kitchen to help me make dinner and dessert without feeling impatient with them because it takes so much longer with their help. Success looks like Craig and I cleaning up after dinner and sitting down to play a game with the kids.

Success is knowing our home is a happy, calm, warm, loving place for our family amid the chaos of the world. It’s about enjoying everything we have rather than forgetting that these are all the things that we always dreamed of having in a world that encourages us to focus on more, more, more, without reminding us that what we have now IS the more we worked so hard for all these years.

No Season is Forever

This season won’t last forever…and I’m painfully aware of how quickly seasons pass. So quickly the seasons pass, but so slowly I’m reminded of that. I forget for a moment how quickly time passes, and then my daughter sends a Wednesday morning text message that says, “My college graduation is May 8 at this time and my high school graduation is May 21 at this time,” and I’m hit with the sudden realization that she’s leaving. It’s her running downstairs after being accepted into every university she’s applied to but still waiting on the acceptance from “The ONE,” university she wants to attend yelling, “I got in!” It’s the, “I’ll be the one driving you guys to school in the morning and daddy will be in the passenger seat soon,” from Ava reminding us that she will, in fact, be driving with her learner’s permit in less than three months.

It’s being able to enjoy a spur of the moment date night with my husband because we haven’t needed a babysitter in years.

No season is forever, but the season we are in now is one that is going by entirely too quickly…and hustling isn’t helping me embrace this season. Which is why it’s out and soft, relaxed living is in.

It’s why I want to be here, in this space, more often. Because I love to write. I miss writing. But I don’t miss the hustle of doing it for others. Now I’m doing it for me.