Slowing down isn’t falling behind:
Why Are We Always in a Rush?
I just came back from an almost three-hour early morning hike in the south of France, in the countryside of Ardèche.
When I got back, I took my time washing my 5-year-old daughter's hair. After nearly a full week of swimming at the beach and in the pool, it was finally time to take down her braids and give her a good wash. Then we picked out her clothes for the day.
Afterward, I had breakfast outside. Then I sat next to her as we worked on a Moana (Vaiana en français) puzzle.
All while being intentional about not rushing…the hike, washing her hair, my breakfast, or the puzzle.
This is what I’ve been working on this summer: not rushing. Taking my time. It has become my meditation. A quiet, personal rebellion. A way for me to slowly take back my power.
Is every day perfectly slow? Absolutely not. Especially not with two kids. But on days when even one moment isn’t hurried, it feels good.
I grew up in a home where everything was rushed. Every day. Every experience. And I started to notice how I was unintentionally passing that rhythm down to my children. How rushing was becoming a normal part of our lives.
Rushing isn’t inherently bad. But it’s what it does to our nervous systems and bodies over time that becomes a problem. Constant urgency elevates cortisol levels, keeping the body stuck in fight-or-flight mode, even when there’s no real threat. Over time, this chronic stress can lead to burnout, fatigue, digestive issues, and hormonal imbalances. I’ve experienced all of these—fibroids, endometriosis, and more.
When I reflect on how my once “perfectly healthy” body (according to doctors) was overtaken by chronic illness, I think about my traumatic childhood, my high-stress college years, and my time working as a school teacher in intense environments, where even the urgency in your classroom could be scored.
Our bodies are wise. They remember trauma, stress, and discomfort. And when it’s constant, the body starts to forget what calm feels like. Our breath shortens. Our mind races.
Rest begins to feel like a luxury instead of a necessity.
The goal isn’t to eliminate all urgency from my life. I know life will always have full days and fast moments. But I also know that my body deserves rhythm. Nourishment. Stillness. I don’t always have to be in survival mode.
So this summer, I gave myself permission to slow down.
I haven’t filmed a new yoga class in over a month. In the past, that would’ve really bothered me. But the truth is; my time with two kids is already limited, and summer break only shortens it further. Instead of fighting time, I decided to move with time, but at my own pace.
I surrendered the pressure to do a hundred things at once.
Instead, I challenged myself to do a few things well and mindfully.
Rather than pushing myself to show up consistently online, which seems to be everyone’s new goal these days, I chose to let the work rest.
And show up consistently, with intention, for my family. To slow our routines.
To just be.
Life is short. Kids grow fast. The world is always in a rush. But I’ve remembered that I don’t have to move at the world’s pace. I can slow down my day.
This summer, I reminded myself that slowing down is not falling behind.
And if I don’t slow down now, while I still can, my body may one day force me to.
Slowing down is self-care.
