The grind and the gentle
To-do lists and toe dips
Remember that time I loudly and proudly declared that you should rest without guilt in my blog post The radical act of doing nothing? Whew. Yeah… about that. Plot twist: I don’t always take my own advice.
In theory, I’m a huge advocate for the soft life. I speak about it often, I write about it passionately, and I romanticize it in my head like it’s a lifestyle commercial. But in practice? That’s a whole different story. Living it, really living it, is an everyday decision that doesn’t always come easy, especially when your internal wiring is tuned to hustle by default.
For most of my adult life, I’ve been in “go mode.” Moving fast. Saying yes to too much. Throwing myself into anything my brain could dream up, usually without a real plan, just vibes and sheer willpower. If it sounded like a good idea in the moment, I’d do it. Often simultaneously juggling multiple projects, commitments, and emotional loads like I was trying out for the Productivity Olympics.
And let me tell you, I stayed tired. I wore exhaustion like a badge of honor. Rest, when it happened, felt like sneaking a cookie from the jar, something you did quickly and guiltily before someone caught you. I’d lie down for a bit, but my brain would immediately start scrolling through unfinished tasks, missed deadlines, and future to-do lists. Rest didn’t feel deserved. It felt stolen.
But somewhere along the way, something shifted.
I became what I now call a Hustle Culture Dropout. I started questioning why I was always rushing, always grinding, always pushing. I asked myself if the version of success I was chasing was even mine, or just something I’d inherited from watching the world glorify burnout. And I realized I didn’t want to wake up at 60, burned out and resentful, wondering where all the soft, joyful moments of my life had gone.
So I started slowing down. Not just physically, but mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually. I’m still ambitious. I still have goals that light me up and keep me up at night. But I no longer want to chase them at the expense of my well-being.
This is what I mean when I say I’m in my soft life era. Not bubble baths and brunch every Sunday (although those are welcome), but a real, intentional commitment to peace. To presence. To pausing. It means going to bed early because I’ve learned sleep is sacred. It means waking up at 5 a.m. to move my body, not because I have to, but because I want to feel strong and alive. It means saying no more often and meaning it.
Soft life, for me, looks like quiet mornings watering my plants and watching them perk up with each sip, mirroring how I’ve been tending to myself with more care and consistency. It looks like slow weekends spent people-watching by the beach, laughing with friends, and giving myself permission to be still.
It hasn’t been easy. Coming off my meds over the past few months messed with my sleep and focus, and I had to rebuild my routine from the ground up. There were nights I couldn’t sleep and days I couldn’t think straight. But instead of pushing through like I used to, I allowed myself to slow down, to adjust, and to ask for help.
Studying for my Project Management Certification has been one of the biggest lessons in pacing myself. I originally set a tight timeline to get it done, but between healing, life changes, and needing better rest, I had to push that deadline. At first, I was frustrated, even disappointed. But then a wise friend who’s been in the PM game for years said something that stuck with me: “Slow work is still work.” And boy, did that hit.
Now, my goal is to take the exam and pass by mid-year. And in the meantime, I’m building a daily routine that feels doable. I’ve created a new workflow that helps me complete all my tasks with time to spare, something that would’ve shocked the old me. Because let’s be honest, the old me would’ve used that extra time to do more. The new me? She’s out here leaning back, playing podcasts, sipping tea, and getting through a few pages of whatever book is on the nightstand.
And surprisingly? I’m still getting things done. More, actually. Because I’m working with intention instead of impulse. I’m giving my energy to what matters and letting the rest fall where it may.
These days, life feels like a constant dance between the grind and the gentle. Between showing up for my goals and showing up for my soul. It’s not always graceful. Some days I stumble. Some days I still feel that urge to push, to overachieve, to prove something. But more often now, I catch myself. I remember that I’m not running out of time. That I don’t need to earn rest. That joy is as valid a pursuit as success.
So here I am, going out more, laughing louder, and enjoying the little things like stretching in the sunlight, hugging my friends, sipping tea on the porch. I’m unlearning the belief that I always have to be in motion. I’m choosing to be present. To heal. To grow at my own pace, even if that pace is slower than I expected.
I’ve changed so much in the last three years, and I’m proud of that. I’m proud of the version of me that now listens to her body, trusts her intuition, and is okay with being a little messy, a little tired, and a lot more at peace.
Whether life is hurling chaos my way or gently rocking me like the tide, I’m learning to float. To flow. To live in that sweet in-between where ambition meets ease. Where I’m still doing big things, but I’m doing them with softness.
And I’m really glad you’re here for the journey.
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