I Thought I Was Choosing a Slower Life

I didn’t leave my job to immediately set up my own business.

I left because I was done with the 50-minute commute twice a day. Done with corporate “boys' clubs” I could never break into, no matter how hard I tried. Done with being praised for how much I could endure, instead of how much I could imagine.

I wanted less noise, less proving, less hustle.

What I craved was that elusive thing people talk about on podcasts: balance. A life where I could build something meaningful and be there when my kids needed me. A rhythm where I could work when my brain was firing, not when someone else had booked a meeting for 7pm. A sense of ownership - not just over my time, but over what that time was for.

So I jumped. No guaranteed income, no clear path - just a feeling that I had to build something around what I love: bold flavors, meaningful rituals, and helping other women unwind without the hangover or the guilt.

That’s how Moon & June was born.

Fast forward six months. Today is a long weekend in Switzerland, and once again I’m at my kitchen table with a laptop, using the quiet hours to catch up on work. “Catching up” is probably the wrong phrase - because there’s no finish line. I wear every hat. I’m navigating a new industry. And there’s no manager to say, “Good work,” when I really need it.

Taking a short break to finally harvest the rhubarb I've been staring at for weeks

This morning, I asked myself: Has my life actually slowed down since leaving my corporate job?

The honest answer is no.

I still carry the same habits with me: overthinking every decision, measuring success by productivity, feeling guilty both when I’m working and when I’m not. Some days, I question how I - as a mom of two, juggling school pickups and company spreadsheets - can belong in the same room as founders with no dependents and no interruptions.

As all IG infulencers love to remind us, we all get 24 hours.

And maybe the real shift isn’t in how many hours we work, but in how we allow ourselves to feel inside them. I’m still learning to be OK with giving B+ effort to some things. That might be the price of choosing slowness - and the trade-off for choosing a life I actually want to live.

It’s hard, especially for someone like me who grew up believing that A+ was the only acceptable grade - in school, at work, in motherhood, in life. Letting go of that internal scoreboard doesn’t come naturally to me. But maybe the real challenge isn’t slowing down - it’s quieting the voice that says anything less than perfect is failure.

Some days, B+ is the bravest, most intentional choice I can make. And I’m slowly starting to believe that might just be enough.