Why I Quit All the Things & Why You Should, Too

Before becoming a stay-at-home mom, I had no idea how much it would actually require of me. I knew that the first year of my son’s life would mean venturing into completely uncharted territory, led by a volatile, new human being…and an epic adventure it was! When friends asked me what I would do once I left the workforce, I found the question strange. Um, I’ll try to figure out how to keep a tiny person alive? I planned for my son’s arrival and I was fully present for his entire first year of life, if not ridiculously sleep deprived.

But as happens, I started to feel like it wasn’t enough, and I felt like I should be contributing something financially to our household. I’m a college-educated woman surrounded by working mothers, so my entire existence shouldn’t be consumed by diapers and Sesame Street, right? And if I’m not popping out another one then I have no excuse but to “get back out there.” (While I get how important being a securely attached mother is to a child, I felt I had to be worth something more.) And wouldn’t Dave Ramsey and other financial experts tell me I ought to be doing everything possible to pay off our debts?

I became a mystery shopper, often making less than $5 an hour, while visiting businesses I would have anyway. I also started serving dinner at the local Salvation Army one night a week, which gave me a break from my son and made me feel like I was doing something important. (Though gratifying, it was unpaid work.) Then a new friend introduced me to the world of virtual assisting. I began helping her for about 10 hours a week, and I suddenly felt motivated. It helped that I was making pretty good supplemental income without leaving my home or having to pay for childcare. She taught me how easy it was to sell pre-written articles to other bloggers and I soon transitioned to being a full-time, freelance ghostwriter.

My at-home business took off at a pace I couldn’t keep up with while taking care of Angelo. I’d raise my rates, and the work would keep coming. I hired babysitters, a housekeeper, had my groceries delivered, and used coworking spaces with childcare to keep my business going in a way that would still generate a profit. I was really proud of this business I was building and this club of hardworking “mompreneurs” I had become a part of. I loved being my own boss, working my own hours, and getting paid to write (because that legitimizes the fact that I’m a writer).

Owning an online, service-based business, however, means you have to spend a large amount of time doing things that don’t actually generate income (things like keeping your own website and social media platforms up-to-date, and networking both online and in person). So I did all the things. I joined a million networking groups, including one that required monthly attendance at meetings that ate up three hours of my childcare time, and lots of others that required a large amount of interaction and reciprocation in order to get the most out of them. I became a contributor to several websites, created a time-consuming web series that remains purely a passion project, started fiendishly listening to podcasts tailor-made for female entrepreneurs, and juggled my growing list of ghostwriting clients all at the same time. And I didn’t necessarily enjoy what I was doing. Yes, I got paid to write, but what was I writing and at what expense?

You know what else I was doing all the while? I was moving across the country; I was undergoing surgery; I was attempting to manage a tumultuous relationship with an adopted daughter who lived in another state; I was flying 1,500 miles away to support my mother through her cancer battle; I was joining play date groups in my new city in an attempt to “build a village” since I had no friends or family where I moved to; I was trying to figure out how to live in snow after spending most of my life in Florida; I was organizing fundraisers; I was dealing with the fallout of unknowingly buying a fixer-upper; I was trying to make time for exercise, self-care, my marriage, oh, and the baby I left the traditional workforce for in the first place.

I owed everyone something and it was never enough.

The more people I came in contact with, the more people I seemed to be disappointing. I was too much for the playground moms, and I didn’t hustle hard enough to keep up with the working and work-from-home moms. My clients wanted more than I cared to give. My friends and family wanted more commitment out of me. My terminally ill mother deserved more face time from me. My son was spending way too much time in front of the TV, and my sense of self was dissolving.

{I should note here that my husband and I planned for me to leave the workforce, and we understand that this is a luxury and not a choice for everyone. It’s perhaps something I didn’t think I deserved before.}

I thought that I was setting the right example for my son, but I recognize he gets the best of me when I get the best of me. I have fed myself the narrative that if I’m intelligent, organized, altruistic, and driven, I have a responsibility to use these gifts…apparently, at all times. But the responsibility that comes with my creativity and spirituality are just as important, if not more. (Stefany Burrowes of Sensational Wisdom helped me to clarify this and many other things.) So I wondered, what would happen if I did nothing? What if I put myself in a position where I owed nothing to anyone, where I only worked on the things that made me happy and didn’t come with deadlines? What if I made space for spontaneity? What if I just relished in this time with my son, who may be my only biological child, as much as I did that first year of his life?

I’ve realized that life is fucking hectic without any help from me. I don’t need to worry about “doing nothing” for too long as something always comes up. So I left all the groups, closed up my shop (at least temporarily), and stopped making too many commitments. I’m consciously choosing to be a meditating, book-reading, art-making, nature-loving, wanderlusting, mostly anti-social mama who focuses on her homestead and her own heart for a little while. And it feels fantastic.