I’ve always felt the pressure to succeed.
… as a wife and homemaker.
… as a mom.
… as a woman.
… as a writer.
… as a ministry leader.
The list goes on.
I bought into the lie that hustle would enable me to do it all and to look good doing it.
You’ll find #hustle on shirts, on coffee mugs, drenching the pages of the books on the New York Times Best Seller list. Hustle is glorified all over the place. Hustle is alluring and thrilling and breathtaking and I bought into it.
For the first few months, living the hustle life fed my incessant desire for success. Living in constant hustle and capitalizing on every moment of every day felt exhilarating. It felt empowering to check off all the boxes on my daily to-do list, add yet another ministry adventure, and write a book.
It felt great until the exhilaration wore off, leaving me exhausted.
It felt great until the hustle became impossible, leaving me feeling like a failure.
And feeling like a failure really sucks.
But I think it’s healthy to have seasons like this, where we seriously analyze our values and reassess what success means to us.
What if success isn’t being a perfect wife, homemaker, mom, woman, writer, ministry leader, fill in the blank…? What if success looks less like perfection, and more like contentment? What if success looks less like hustle, and more like being present for the people that matter most?
We can try to hustle our way through life with the hopes of finding the ever-illusive success. This is not to say that we shouldn’t live life to the full. Feeling a sense of accomplishment is important. Absolutely. But what if the constant hustle to reach our dreams is actually killing us?
So, to the hustle life: thanks, but no thanks. It was fun while you lasted, but I’m done.
To Hell with the hustle.