Today, I am writing just to write. Lately, my writing practice has become less about pen to paper and more about strategy, curation. Which makes sense, given my background. I’ve spent over a decade using my marketing skills in both professional and personal settings. I’ve become adept at “making the most” of every opportunity.
It’s not new—it’s how I was raised, how I worked, how I learned to move through the world. I spent the majority of my career in fast-paced startups, typically in wellness. On paper, it made sense: I grew up in a health-forward household (my father was a medical doctor turned holistic practitioner who jumped in the ocean daily, meditated morning and night, and wrote several books—including one titled The 10 Rules of High Performance Living).
When I’d lead social or content for any given team, I was celebrated for being able to manage so many moving parts at once. For being able to take one bigger product launch or piece of content and work backwards to create 20+ activations across social, email, web, everything. But in these roles, I struggled to set boundaries, to push back. I let myself do the job of several people (can you relate?), and it broke me. Over and over and over again.
And now, I have actual time and space to take my foot off the gas. However, I’ve also elected to start my own consulting business, and even though I’m not working full-time, I’m “on” just as much as I was before, if not more.
In truth, part of me wouldn’t have it any other way. At least I’m building something that’s all mine. At least I’m in charge of my schedule. I get to choose who I work with and when. It’s more meaningful this way. But I’ve also found that I’ve yet to really take my foot…off the gas.
You see, I’m constantly on my phone—answering texts, emails, DMs. Checking my to-do list. Adding to said list. Scrolling social. Jotting ideas down—ten at a time. Checking again. My fingers moving a mile a minute. Then I feel the heaviness on my chest. I forget to breathe. I burn myself while cooking. I drop a glass. I stub my toe.
If I’m rushing through every waking moment, what is the actual point?
I can’t help but constantly be in planning/strategizing/optimization mode. I thank my upbringing and my career for this. And it’s gotten me far. But I also want to learn how to just be, too.
I’m in this beautiful space where I’m starting to only work on projects that really light me up, but I also know there’s so much more I want to discover, to learn about myself, to try. And yet, I busy myself with websites and research and networking and strategizing and social media. I’m burning myself out, again.
Right now, I’m sitting on my couch, writing this letter (it’s raining outside, the perfect backdrop), and I’m forcing myself to take it easy today. I don’t have anything on my calendar except a 12p yoga class (a privilege I don’t take for granted). And instead of optimizing every moment, I’m choosing to flow through my day. No multi-tasking. Simply letting each moment be whatever it’s meant to be.
This weekend, my boyfriend and I went for an afternoon glass of wine. He (kindly) pointed out that I was ‘doing that thing again’, where I talk about some future plan or nothing at all. It was a beautiful LA day, more summer than fall. We were sharing two glasses (a sparkling white from…I forget, and a funky orange from Oregon), and I was robbing us of the chance to just be in the moment.
Even writing, for the past 20 or so minutes, has felt incredibly therapeutic. I haven’t done this in a while. Usually, when I’m crafting a Substack post, I’m also thinking about the visuals, the flow, what to include vs. not include, the formatting, the tags, the cross-promoting, and the publish date. It can be…relentless.
There’s this gripping again. This pressure to maximize every moment.
But this desire, this gripping, is getting in the way of my chance to really discover what it is I want to do beyond marketing. What I know for sure: I want to travel more. Taste incredible food. Meet incredible people. Go to more dinner parties. Learn new languages. Adopt a dog. Be a mom someday. But I’m so eager to “figure the next thing out” that I’m not even giving myself a fighting chance to get there.
I’d like to think that I am, but I’m not. Because my nervous system is starting to feel just as zapped now as it did a year ago, just in different ways.
In a few weeks, I turn 35. I want this coming year (without the pressure) to be my most magical yet. And maybe it’ll be magical in the smaller ways.
But my hope is that by giving myself a chance to embrace the smaller moments, to slow down, to really give myself time to learn and play and rest (because I want to believe that you can still show up for yourself, and others, without optimizing every moment), I’ll discover something bigger.
Today, I gave myself permission to just see where the day took me. And I found myself writing. Just to write. I’m going to yoga at noon, and from there, we’ll see. What a pleasure. What a gift.
If this resonated, feel free to leave a comment.
Hearing from every one of you genuinely makes my day.
Jess
I love this. I’m so glad you know what you need to keep yourself happy and sane and you’re doing it. Good job!
Loved this line: If I’m rushing through every waking moment, what is the actual point?
My mind is always running a mile a minute, it literally will not shut up. i just took a trip where i did nothing for four days (sat by a pool, didn't leave the hotel, no social media or email, didn't bring my laptop) in the first time in forever. it helped a lot.