Doing less

2024—AKA the year I did way too damn much.

In a world where doing more feels like the norm—running more races, launching another business, climbing the corporate ladder—that’s difficult to admit. 

It feels like everyone has a purpose—somewhere they’re headed. And I’m just… here. (But also—is it really the norm? Or do I just live in an internet bubble?) 

So, in my modern-day retelling of Keeping Up with the Joneses, that I didn’t willingly by tickets to, I kept trying to do more. And it just never felt enough. It often still doesn’t.

Looking back, it feels like I didn’t even do that much. There are people in this world who do far more than I ever do or ever will. But the mental load was more than I could (or should have) handled.

As the kid who got A’s in every subject growing up (except gym, go figure), anything less than perfect often feels like a failure. Which of course, in the part of my brain that’s completely devoid of logic, means it’s not worth doing at all. Because what would everyone else think?

I know (in the other half of my brain, at least) that no one scrutinizes what I’m doing more than myself. But the guilt and anxiety of not doing enough, created so much stress that those magical moments that should have lifted me up felt like a weight dragging me down. 

And don’t take that as anything other than a mental barrier that I’ve erected in my subconscious. Because I am beyond grateful for (and have loved) every opportunity that came my way, the people who trusted me, and the things I’ve created.

But I’ve gone through a lot of change in the last couple of years. And I don’t think I’m giving myself enough credit for the energy it’s taken to keep myself afloat. 

So, after spending the entirety of 2024 toeing the line of mental burnout, and not the kind that at least wields lightning (IYKYK), I am damn tired. 

I just want to run, read my books, and spend time with my loved ones. I want to do less. And for once, that’s going to be enough.