What Happened When I Slowly Stopped Trying to “Do It All”

For a long time, I was convinced I could do it all.

I could stay home, work in my spare time, take care of myself, nurture my relationship, exercise, see friends—and do it well. I only had one child, after all. How hard could it be?

And for a while, it actually worked. Or at least, it felt like it did. Looking back, I think I was running on adrenaline. I was deeply motivated, inspired by other moms online who stayed home and still earned an income. I wanted that version of life so badly. I wanted to prove it was possible.

At one point, I thought, I’ll just include Violet. I’ll become a mommy blogger—how fun! In a way, I guess I am one now, writing about motherhood here. But almost immediately, something felt off. I was deeply uncomfortable sharing Violet online. I hated it—truly hated it. Every time I posted her, I felt uneasy afterward, like I had crossed a quiet boundary I couldn’t ignore.

So I pivoted.

I decided to do something more behind the scenes and opened an Etsy shop. Honestly, I love it. I still do. It brings me joy, and it still makes sales. But working “in spare time” turned out to be much harder than I imagined. Spare time meant naps. It meant evenings. It meant all the time before Violet woke up or after she went to sleep.

Slowly, I became someone I didn’t recognize. I didn’t love the partner or wife I was becoming—always thinking, always pushing, always trying to make it work. I felt obsessed, and not in a healthy way. I had to ask myself: For what? And for who?

Yes, I’m privileged in that I don’t need to bring in an income right now. But I also worked for it. I spent ten years building a career—working government jobs in the summers, then moving into corporate sales. I saved. I just didn’t realize what I was saving for at the time.

If you had told 22-year-old me—or even 25- or 27-year-old me—that I would one day walk away from opportunities to work in places like New York City or Paris, I would have laughed. Truly. That version of me was ambitious, driven, and deeply identified with her work.

I tried returning to work three separate times during my maternity leave—once at 12 months, again at 15, and then preparing for 18. Not once did it feel right. And not in the way where you know a little discomfort will eventually pass. This was different. It was a deep, unmistakable knowing that this wasn’t the path for me anymore.

That realization didn’t come all at once. It came slowly—through exhaustion, resistance, and finally, honesty. When I stopped trying to do everything, I began to hear myself again.

And that changed everything.

What I’m learning now is that this season isn’t about doing less because I can’t do more—it’s about choosing where my energy belongs. Slowing down has made space for a different kind of work: tending to our home, finding rhythm in our days, creating beauty in small, ordinary moments. Homemaking, for me, isn’t about perfection or productivity; it’s about presence. It’s about building a life that feels steady and nourishing from the inside out. And in choosing to live more slowly, I’ve found that what once felt like “not enough” is actually more than I ever needed.