You Would Do Anything for Your Children…

You Would Do Anything for Your Children. But Would You Do the Same for Yourself?

Being harder on yourself will not make you more successful. Learning to give yourself grace while continuing to pursue what matters to you will.

I've been thinking a lot about this lately, particularly as a high achiever and recovering perfectionist who has spent a significant portion of her life trying to figure out how to get more done, accomplish more, and make everything happen according to the timeline I've created in my head.

I love achieving things. I love building businesses, pursuing goals, and creating a life that excites me. I'm not interested in becoming someone who stops dreaming big or decides that ambition is somehow a bad thing. But I've also learned that if I don't balance that ambition with a whole lot of grace, I end up creating a version of success that doesn't actually feel very good.

And what the hell is the point of that?

I was out for a run this morning, reflecting on a post I wrote back in 2019 about how my children aren't my top priority.

That post got a LOT of attention. Some people were furious that a mother would even suggest such a thing, while others were thanking me for putting words to something they'd been feeling for years.

My point was never that my children weren't important. Quite the opposite. I love them fiercely, and I would do just about anything for them. But I also recognize that I can't continue giving them the best of me if I'm constantly neglecting the very things that allow me to be the person and mother I want to be.

And while I was thinking about that this morning, a question came to me.

If I would do anything for my children, would I also be willing to do anything for myself?

Well, that was an uncomfortable little conversation to have in the middle of a run.

Because the answer wasn't an immediate yes.

I started thinking about all the ways I show up for my children without hesitation. If they have a dream, I want to help them pursue it. If they need support, I'm there. If they're exhausted, overwhelmed, or disappointed, I don't immediately start listing all the things they should have done differently. I try to understand what's happening, help them find their footing, and figure out what they need to move forward.

But when it comes to myself?

I've historically been much less generous.

If I'm tired, I should have gone to bed earlier. If I don't accomplish everything I wanted to, I should have managed my time better. If something isn't happening as quickly as I'd like, perhaps I should push harder, work longer, or find another way to make it happen.

And somewhere along the way, I started recognizing how ridiculous that was.

Because I would never speak to my children the way I used to speak to myself.

This past weekend was a perfect example of how much that has changed.

Two of my girls had soccer tournaments in Northern Virginia, my husband had a golf tournament, and I was flying solo for much of the weekend. There was driving, coordinating, changing schedules, and a whole lot of moving pieces. By the time we got home Monday evening, I was absolutely exhausted.

And the truth is, I was tired before we even got home.

There was a moment at the hotel when the television wasn't working, and I simply didn't have the energy to deal with one more thing. So I took a picture of the screen, sent it to my husband, and asked him to handle it. I told my girls I was exhausted and needed to go to bed, and I trusted them to get themselves settled at a reasonable hour.

Nothing dramatic. No meltdown. No getting frustrated with everyone because I was trying to hold everything together while completely running on empty.

I simply acknowledged that I had reached my limit and asked for what I needed.

And when we got home, I did the same thing. I told my children that Mama was tired, that we'd had a wonderful weekend, and that I needed a little grace from them.

Later that evening, my oldest daughter came over, gave me a hug, and thanked me for the weekend. She acknowledged how exhausting it had been.

And I thought about how different that experience was from the way I might have handled it years ago.

Back then, I would have been far more likely to push through my exhaustion, get increasingly frustrated, and eventually become annoyed that everyone wasn't doing exactly what I needed them to do.

Not because my family was doing anything particularly wrong, but because I wasn't acknowledging what was happening within myself.

I was expecting myself to keep performing instead of allowing myself to be human.

That's the belief I want to challenge.

Somewhere along the way, high achievers have convinced themselves that grace is something you offer when you've failed to meet your standards. Almost as though it's a consolation prize for not being good enough.

But that's not how I see it anymore.

Grace isn't about lowering the bar. It's about recognizing that the person working toward that bar is a human being with needs, limitations, emotions, and a life that exists outside of the next accomplishment.

I can be an incredibly driven woman and still need to rest. I can have enormous goals and still choose to stay up late talking with my brother because those moments of connection matter more than maintaining my perfect bedtime. I can build businesses, raise children, teach, train, and pursue the things that excite me without requiring every single day to look like my most productive day.

And when I give myself that permission, something else happens.

I become more willing to extend the same grace to the people around me.

I'm less likely to expect everyone else to operate at my pace. I'm more willing to recognize when someone is having a hard day, needs additional support, or simply doesn't have the capacity to do everything I'd like them to do.

Because I'm no longer pretending that I have unlimited capacity either.

This is what I mean when I talk about balance.

Balance doesn't mean spending exactly the same amount of time on every area of your life. It doesn't mean dividing your day into perfectly equal pieces or pretending that your responsibilities never compete with one another.

It means recognizing what matters, understanding what the current season requires, and being willing to adjust without making yourself wrong for needing to do so.

And if you're someone who has spent years chasing achievement, this can feel incredibly uncomfortable.

Because doing more is familiar.

Pushing harder is familiar.

Finding another way to get everything done is familiar.

But sitting down, asking for help, or deciding that you've done enough for today?

That can feel like you're doing something wrong.

You're not.

You're learning how to create success that doesn't require you to abandon yourself in order to maintain it.

And I would argue that this is one of the most important shifts a high achiever can make.

Because what's the point of creating the successful business, the beautiful home, the financial freedom, or the incredible life if you're too exhausted, overwhelmed, or disconnected to actually enjoy any of it?

You don't need to stop wanting more.

You need to stop believing that wanting more requires you to continually demand more from yourself at the expense of everything else.

This is a huge part of the work I do with my private coaching clients. We look at the beliefs and patterns underneath the way you're operating, particularly when you're achieving plenty on paper but not experiencing the fulfillment you expected those achievements to create.

Sometimes you don't need another goal, a better schedule, or a more efficient strategy.

Sometimes you need to learn how to support yourself with the same commitment you've spent years offering everyone else.

If you're a high achiever who is tired of feeling like you're never doing enough, even when you're doing more than most people can imagine, message me.

Let's create a version of success that allows you to achieve what matters to you without losing yourself in the process.