The Shift: stepping back from the hustle (pt. 3)
If I had to pinpoint when things started to shift, it would be a conversation with my husband. What began as an ordinary discussion turned into something that stopped me in my tracks. He told me he resented the changes I had made — not in a cruel or dismissive way, but with honesty that only comes from someone who knows you deeply. It wasn’t about the oils or the company itself, but about the person I had become through all the non-toxic change.
At first, I wanted to justify everything. I had worked hard to create this “better” version of myself and our home. But as I stepped back and looked at it all through an outside lens, I realized how far I’d drifted from the person I used to be. I was exhausted trying to live up to the high standard I’d set for myself, yet resenting the standard at the same time. The guilt began to pile up, and eventually, it turned into resentment — not toward anyone else, but toward myself.
The culture within Young Living had so many positives — community, encouragement, motivation, purpose. For a time, it was exactly what I needed. But over time, that motivation became a measuring stick. I began comparing myself to others, questioning why I wasn’t reaching their level of success. I convinced myself that if I just took one more course, paid for better graphics, or followed the right influencer, I would finally feel enough. But instead, I kept setting the bar higher — always just out of reach. And with each missed goal, the guilt whispered a little louder: you should be doing more.
Stepping back wasn’t a single decision; it was a slow unlearning. The first step was releasing the pressure to perform. Almost immediately, I felt a strange sense of relief. I stopped posting, stopped showing up in the same ways, and let go of the image I thought I had to maintain. Officially stepping away from the business took months — not because I didn’t know what I needed to do, but because it felt like saying goodbye to a version of myself. I was right — there were hurt feelings, and some relationships have never been quite the same. But I’ve learned to extend grace and forgiveness, especially to myself.
The real shift came with time — and therapy. I started to see how much of my identity had been tied to people-pleasing, self-worth, and perfectionism. Understanding those patterns gave me permission to change. Permission to just be, and to be okay with that. Balance stopped feeling like failure and started to feel like freedom.
These days, balance looks a lot more like grace — for myself and for others. I don’t always get it right, but that’s part of the process. I remind myself (and my kids) that growth doesn’t come from perfection, but from learning, falling, and trying again. And that truth feels a whole lot lighter than hustle ever did.
Learning to live with balance and grace hasn’t been a quick fix — it’s been a slow, intentional process of redefining what enough really means. I’m still unlearning the parts of me that tied worth to productivity or purity, and I’m still reminding myself that peace doesn’t need to be earned. Letting go of the hustle gave me the space to rediscover who I am beneath the labels and expectations.
In my next post, “Still Crunchy, But Softer,” I’ll share what it looked like to find my footing again — to embrace the parts of the crunchy lifestyle that still serve me while releasing the rigidity that once defined it. It’s a story about becoming gentler with myself, learning to hold both conviction and compassion, and finding peace in the in-between.