In 2010, I almost quit my business.
I had a full client roster, an adorable wardrobe, a beautiful website, and a growing audience. I was primed for ever-expanding “success”.
I also had a failing marriage, worked until 2am most nights, was emotionally and energetically depleted, felt numb below the waist, and couldn’t understand why making more money was not equalling more fun or enjoyment in my life.
I was fried, and nearly always on the verge of tears from the overwhelm and confusion.
Then, one day, the ceiling caved in.
My husband and I were sleeping, and there was an enormously loud crash in the next room — my office. I was horrified. If someone had been there in that moment, they could have died! What was I going to do with all my clients, all this dust, all the damage? It was so painfully symbolic of how I felt. Done. Fried. Crashed.
I cried for days. All the tears I’d been withholding came crashing down all at once, just like the ceiling.
I started to look – really look – at my life. This wasn’t what I wanted. Yes, I wanted to help people, but not at the expense of my own health, happiness and relationships. I wanted to do good work, but not be a workaholic. Was that too much to ask?