I’ve always been good at ‘the grind.’ As a professional musician, I learned the importance of persistent hard work. Grind was my middle name. Running my own business and home with two small kids, I was no stranger to the never-ending list of errands and to-do lists.

From the outside, I was doing really well. I seemed organized and was holding all kinds of things together. What no one saw was that I was barely keeping my nose above water.

Errands seemed unending. Emails started slipping through the cracks, clogging my inbox with missed opportunities and passed deadlines. Afraid to miss out on something, I said yes to every request. Piles of important papers started growing all over the house. Tidal waves of toys, gear, and clothes cluttered my home and my mind.

I craved organization and structure, and tried with all my might to force improvement. I bought shelves of blank journals, desk organizers and day-planners, bins, pens, and apps. The potential these items promised was thrilling for a time, but I would be derailed again and again, never able to exert enough energy to keep the machine perfectly oiled.

I was haunted by a persistent, nagging sense that all that grind was disconnected from something larger. Every six weeks I would break down, asking my husband, “What am I doing with my life?!” Confused, he would say, “But, Brielle - you’re doing so much!” I was doing too much, but none of it was the right stuff.