Exhale

A year of less ambition…

There are several key milestones we are socialized to believe are the hallmarks of being a successful human being – getting a degree, pursuing a career, getting married, buying a house, buying a car, having children, becoming wealthy (if one is lucky), retiring, and growing old. While I was hardly that person with the mentality of “graduate by 22, get married by 25, have kids by 30, blah blah blah,” I was and still am that person who hoped to live in a just and godly manner, with complete dedication to whatever I am responsible and destined for. I also strongly believed that my effort would be rewarded with a timely alignment of opportunities and resources to achieve these milestones.

When the pandemic happened right when I was graduating with my bachelor’s degree – the first of these milestones, I quickly learned and saw how life hadn’t promised anything or guaranteed that any of these would happen, occur effortlessly, or in a so-called “right” order. 2020 was a year in which we held our breaths in many aspects of our lives, but many people, like me, never exhaled. Worse, I had been holding my breath even before the pandemic with the slew of things I committed to, in the name of social responsibility, self-development, and personal success. Only 5 years later would I learn that continued functionality is not evidence of healing or progress. Sometimes, continuation is only a Band-Aid on grief… and the body keeps the score.

While I could use work, the pursuit of opportunities, and the glory of accomplishments to mask my pain, my body couldn’t. When we think of health and wellness, except something drastic or unexpected happens, like a life-changing diagnosis, there is the assumption that as long as the body is functional, it can keep going. But that’s not true. Just because a broken car is still moving doesn’t mean it should be on the road, let alone a highway. The dismissiveness of my well-being in the pursuit of what’s next has manifested in the subtle decline of my life in certain areas that aren’t visible to others.

During my reflections as 2024 ended, one of my determinations was that I would not commit to new pursuits or accomplishments. While I was achieving everything else, projects, and career-wise, I was already failing for the past couple of years in things that mattered to me behind it all (my health and wellness, especially). I concluded that 2025 is not my year of abundance, not a year of breakthroughs, not a year of propelling forward or doing more. I was determined that this would be a year of cutting back responsibilities, letting go of aspirations, standing still, breathing, and, most importantly, exhaling. As I told my best friend at the beginning of this year, I, too, want to look like a well-rested woman.

Recently, I listened to a book titled Do Nothing by Celeste Headlee. It’s very eye-opening to understand how our lives became this rat race and what changed in the world over the centuries that cultivated our current system and raised us as mere tools for capitalism. It also discusses the compulsion to over-impress others with the products or benefits of that overwork, especially on social media and in our close-knit circles. While this creates a life of impression and, if one’s lucky, purpose, it simultaneously leaves a life unlived. We live less, to do more, to own more, and to impress more. Even when one is not intentionally trying to impress anyone or check a life hallmark box, there’s an unsettling part of me that can’t answer why the effort to abandon it all to live a little more (and intentionally purposeless) feels wrong.

Withdrawing myself from the race of constant aspiration hasn’t happened all at once, intentionally, or easily. I am still on that journey and haven’t emerged from it yet to write a boastful piece about eating better, sleeping more, traveling, losing weight, or other expected outcomes of triumph. I am reconciling with how this practice of balance can become a lifetime habit, rather than something to be emerged from. I am still failing, albeit learning, and this time, I am standing still until I can recover. This process has been an annoying experience of ignoring to-dos that seem to matter, not being responsive to everyone’s urgencies, delegating responsibilities even when I know the outcomes won’t turn out as I’d like, saying no even if it means missing out on once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, and forcing my body to attempt resting even when my mind is racing. It has also meant removing all alarms and notifications on my devices, submitting resignation letters, showing up more consistently to therapy, avoiding events that become “inspirational and motivational speeches” on goals (regardless of the context), and relocating to a city that’s less bubbly.

Choosing oneself isn’t as glamorous as it’s often marketed; it is guilt, boredom, chaos, work, and sometimes expensive. As a workaholic and perfectionist, this season has felt more like one of self-betrayal and denial than acceptance. Saying no to the world and people is one thing (and much easier), but saying no to myself, especially when my life has revolved around what I can do (in service to others) and accomplish (for myself), has been unexpectedly hard. To continually stand and look at myself, feeling incomplete with all these things stripped off, and say I am enough is a truth I am working hard to believe. The more painful truth, as a close friend would eventually phrase it for me, is this: you cannot undo in days and months the damage you’ve done to yourself in years; it will take time.

While on this journey, I am also trying not to make my idleness and rest something to achieve because I know once it’s reduced to a milestone, I’ll soon move past it to pursue something else. Speaking of idleness, when we are constantly in a rat race, we reward ourselves with temporary, well-decorated idleness through unique temporary experiences, such as traveling, visiting family, and more. But what does one do with idleness and rest that has nowhere to escape, does not require adorning, and is here to stay? It’s strange to look at my now brief to-do list and not have any more urgent and priority work to escape into. The scarier part of this experience is now having to do the things I’ve always wished I could just do for myself, “when I have more time,” such as learning how to swim and doing them without justification or anticipation of reward. In moments like these, I realize that finding purpose to pursue things is easy; the discipline to simply be is even more difficult.

Reflecting on the first half of this year, I am proud of many things, including doing less and being more, taking care of myself, and putting myself first. Despite celebrating this, in my deep reflection to not find myself back in the same place I started, I have questioned my reasons for living in constant survival mode for years. I am reconciling with these convictions and managing my expectations of life much better. For example, I no longer see myself as indispensable. I no longer believe that in any role, position, or capacity, only I can and should be the person who knows how to do something or everything. I no longer wear the pride of being a “responsible” and “reliable” person, or my independence and over-productivity as a badge of honor when it’s an expense to my health, especially. My badge of honor is resting, feeling alive, and being in good health (including mentally and emotionally). The more brutal way of thinking about this is – if I died today from exhaustion, someone else will pick up from where I stopped. The kinder way to imagine this is, “How else can I make my life an enjoyable celebration just for being?”

In 2022, when I read Ottessa Moshfegh's My Year of Rest and Relaxation, something clicked in me with the realization of my self-will. The book is about a character who decides to sleep for a whole year out of exhaustion and sadness. While the methods she uses to accomplish the goal aren’t ones I’d recommend – nor do I have the luxury and privilege to choose to sleep for a year – reading this book awakened my consciousness about my self-will, especially as an adult. It made me stop waiting for this nonexistent permission or the perfect moment to rest.

In a prior Instagram post, I shared how during a half-marathon, when I was tired of running just a few minutes in, I stepped aside to walk the whole race – I realized it was alright to walk in a world where everyone was running, and this choice would not make me late or disqualify me from the finish line of my own life. The world is not here to live my life; I am. This gentle reminder is also the confidence I use to question conventional approaches to life and the timing at which things must be pursued or accomplished, often branded in coming-of-age and the so-called “right time.” Sometimes, in a world where everyone is pursuing one thing or another, the bravest thing you can do is step aside to walk or stop altogether and be still. And “because I can” is enough reason.

The success of my most recent book, Face Me I Face You, becoming a #1 national bestseller and selling out multiple times in under six months, made me question the timing of intentionally implementing these choices this year. There are so many other things I previously convinced myself would be worth pursuing during this stage of my life, or to set myself up for future success, that I have quit regardless of the consequences. I remind myself that the world will continue turning, and time will continue ticking, but I can stop if I want. I can stop because I choose to.

So, if you have found yourself saying, “I just wish the world could stop so I can catch my breath,” I hope you know you can pause or stop. You are the world that needs to stop to catch your breath. I hope you’re not only able to catch your breath but also have a big, loud, and freeing exhale.