I’ve spent a long time hustling—pouring my heart into birth work, chasing some dream of making it matter enough. Make enough. Mean enough. Be enough.

But lately, I’m sitting with the truth that this version of it—this constant on-call, always-available, scraping-by energy—hasn’t been giving back to me. Not financially. Not emotionally. Not spiritually. I’m constantly frustrated with trying to make my business something it just isn’t, can’t, or won’t become. I’m tired all. the. time.

I almost feel like I keep going back to a shitty ex.

Like, the moments when I *do* get to do the work or I *do* get a consult request or I *do* get a nice review, I feel so excited and so proud of myself. So sure of the work that I’m doing.

But the in-between times? They’re frequent. And long. And I tend to place my value and my worth in whether or not I’m fully booked. Do people like me? Am I really actually good at this?

Constantly thinking about what to post about on social media or what to blog about for my website or how the fuck I’m going to pay for all the services I need just to keep my head above water…I hate it.

When I picture stepping away from it, I don’t feel panic.
I feel calm.
I feel free.

And that surprises me.
I thought I’d feel sad.
(And I do, a little. More than a little.)
But mostly? I feel relief.
Like my nervous system is exhaling after years of holding its breath.

There’s grief here, yes.
And there’s also wisdom.
I know now that I don’t have to keep beating a thing just because I once loved it.

I’m allowed to outgrow a role.
I’m allowed to want more.
And I don’t have to hustle for my worth.
I already have it.