Essays + Narratives

And then, in the height of the hustle, when our business was bursting with growth, a quiet conviction came in the night.

Busyness is not a badge of honor.

The words cut straight through my chest where I’d worn that invisible emblem for years. 

Every time someone asked me, “How are you doing?,”  I’d spout the same response: “Good! Busy!”

It was honest, but it was also quietly haunting me. 

This badge I’d proudly pinned to every interaction was like kryptonite, sucking life from me. 

Hustle couldn’t heal my heart. Hurry couldn’t prevent my panic attacks. Success couldn’t stall the years my children were racing through. 

There was no honor in building a life that left little room for living.