We just returned from a family vacation in Palm Springs. There was warm desert sunshine, a day of wandering through Joshua Tree, a joyful Greek street fair, long stretches floating the lazy river in inner tubes. There was also wind. And rain. And real life mixed in with the beauty.

I expected to come home rested.

Instead, I came home reflective. And restless.

I move in cycles. And there is a pattern I've been aware of, for a while.

I pour myself completely into something — a project, a class, a community, a vision. I give it my whole heart. I stretch. I hold. I carry.
And eventually, I hit exhaustion.

So I step away.
I recalibrate.
I refill.

But here’s what I’ve started to see very clearly:

Each time I return from one of these cycles, I notice that I have slightly less fuel than the time before — even though I come back with the same intention to “give it my all.”

That phrase — give it my all — is feeling outdated.

Somewhere along the way, I equated worthiness with output.
Leadership with overextension.
Devotion with depletion.

Perfectionism in 'soft clothing'.
Burnout disguised as love.

As I approach my 49th birthday — my final lap around the sun in my 40s — this feels pivotal.

I’m not afraid of aging.
I’m afraid of wasting precious time.

Of spending my life in patterns that slowly diminish me.
Of confusing exhaustion with meaning.
Of pouring so fully outward that there’s less and less I bring with me to the next cycle.

Time feels even more sacred now.

I don’t want the next decade to be built upon diminishing returns.
I don’t want to prove my value through how much I can carry.
I don’t want my stamina to keep shrinking because I refuse to question or change the pattern that feels like my identity.

I want sustainability.
I want alignment.
I want enoughness — without constant, steady back of my mind reminders of what's next/what's still not done.

This community has been a safe place for me to share who I am, who I’m not, and the space in between.
This safety allows me to say this out loud:

Something is shifting.

I’m not abandoning what I love.
I’m refining how I offer it.

And... I don't know yet what that looks like.

Maybe this is what the end of a decade is meant for?

Not reinvention... Refinement.

And so, a deeper question is emerging, and you might ask yourself this question, too:

If I truly believe that time is sacred…
what will I immediately stop over-giving to?