The Lie of “Busy”

Somewhere along the way, we started believing that being busy meant being valuable.
That a full calendar meant a full life.
That exhaustion was a badge of honor.

And honestly…this was never the way it was meant to be?

We praise burnout like it’s ambition.
We normalize depletion like it’s discipline.
We clap for people who are running on fumes and call it “success,” when really it’s just slow self-abandonment.

I’m so tired of this dialogue, especially for women, especially for mothers.

This idea that we can do it all is not empowering.
It’s cruel.

No one can do it all. No one ever has.
Every single day we are choosing, consciously or not, what we will sacrifice.
Our energy. Our presence. Our health. Our joy. Our time with our kids. Our sense of self.

And pretending otherwise only makes the guilt louder.

If you stay home, you’re told you’re “not contributing enough.”
If you work, you’re told you’re “missing everything.”
If you rest, you’re lazy.
If you push, you’re praised, until your body or your soul finally collapses.

It’s insane.
And it’s empty.

I loved my corporate life. I was good at it. It mattered.
But I’m in a different season now, and seasons are allowed to change.
Growth doesn’t always look like more. Sometimes it looks like less, but deeper.

For women, especially mothers, there is no neutral choice.
Having children does require pauses, shifts, sacrifices.
That doesn’t make us weak. It makes us honest.

I refuse to believe that a life lived at the edge of burnout is the goal.
I refuse to worship busy.
I refuse to measure my worth by how much I can carry without breaking.

It is okay to rest.
It is okay to say no.
It is okay to choose yourself without justifying it.
It is okay to want a life that feels intentional instead of impressive.

I want presence over productivity.
Peace over performance.
Meaning over momentum.

I want a life where my nervous system isn’t constantly in survival mode.
Where my kids remember my eyes, not just my effort.
Where I don’t have to earn rest by destroying myself first.

This season is asking me to slow down—not because I failed, but because I’m listening.
And maybe success isn’t doing it all.
Maybe success is choosing what actually matters, and having the courage to let the rest go.

And when I look at it through faith, I’m reminded that God never asked me to do it all.
He asked me to be faithful where He placed me.

My first ministry is not my work, my productivity, or my achievements.
My first ministry is my home.
The hearts I’m shaping, the love I’m pouring out, the presence I offer when no one is watching.

There is holy work in the unseen.
There is purpose in the quiet.
And choosing alignment over applause is not falling behind, it’s obedience.