I used to think 'doing the work' meant squeezing every last drop out of myself until I was running on fumes and anxiety, which, looking back, was just a really effective way to avoid actual feelings. I used to wear my exhaustion like a badge of honor, proof I was worthy. Now I see it's just a sign I'm about to make a really dumb decision, probably involving email at 11pm. I thought 'doing the work' meant meticulously crafting the perfect five-year plan, when the REAL work was learning to pivot when life inevitably laughed at my color-coded spreadsheets. Turns out, the only thing those plans were good for was kindling.