Feeling Enough: When Slowing Down Becomes an Act of Courage

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been tasting a new professional and personal reality, slowly adjusting to a new rhythm—one that’s still very busy, but that finally leaves me a bit more room to breathe. I can go for walks (almost) every day, write, cook healthy meals, and explore. I even tried a painting workshop last Friday!

This is the first time in my life that I’m truly allowing myself this time and space to restore my health, create, and discover new things. I won’t pretend it’s easy. This aspiration is punctuated by daily fears and doubts, and I don’t find it obvious—or natural—to navigate all of it.

What I’m discovering so far surprises me and leads me into deep reflection. So I’m sharing this sense of ambiguity here, in the hope that some of you have already been through something similar and might have advice to offer—or that my words might simply resonate with you.

“I’m just…” — that limiting word!

Over the weekend, I went to a local market to pick up a few holiday items. I was mostly there to see a professional acquaintance, Kathryn Basham, who was showcasing her beautiful ceramic work. I’ve become a great admirer of her art—her creative approach blends her American roots (she’s from Kentucky), her love for New Brunswick—where she’s lived for several years—and the integration of natural elements into her pieces.

I’m also very interested in her journey, as she’s gone through a major professional transformation over the past year and is now exploring her passion for artistic creation through Kentucky Brunswick Ceramics.

As we were talking while I was finalizing my purchase, I shared this with her:

“I’m just doing my MBA and teaching part-time.”

She stopped me right away:

“Don’t use that word—just. We tend to downplay what we’re doing, as if it’s not enough. It’s more than enough. My advice: try removing that word from your vocabulary.”

I’ll admit—her words brought tears to my eyes. She had touched a very sensitive nerve. The ambiguity I’m feeling takes root precisely in these kinds of thoughts: limiting, guilt-laden thoughts, often tied to productivity, performance, or self-worth.

Am I enough, just as I am?

Learning to slow down… even when it’s uncomfortable

A very simple example: I used to eat lunch while continuing to work. The only “break” I allowed myself was the time it took to reheat my meal.

For the past few weeks, I’ve actually been sitting down to eat. I try to give myself a fuller pause—reading or watching a show. And even that feels difficult. After ten minutes, a small voice kicks in: You should be preparing something, working on your course, cleaning the kitchen… doing something!

These thoughts are constant. I believe they come from both internal factors—past trauma, the models I grew up with, the value I place on myself—and external ones: a society that glorifies productivity, professional status, and performance, not to mention the double professional and family load that women still largely carry.

Kathryn would also say that we’re conditioned, from a very young age, to be humble… and to minimize what we do. Since this piece is meant to be a personal reflection, I won’t dig deeper into these factors here—but they could easily be the subject of another post.

Learning to say no… still not natural

These limiting thoughts also show up in my difficulty saying no. I’ve already shared how accustomed I am to being the person people turn to—for advice, references, connections, services.

Very few people reach out simply to check in or to get to know me better. I don’t need a large circle of friends—those who are in my life truly fulfill me—but I do notice that my role has long been that of the useful person. A role I took on very young, and one I know well.

And yet, saying no becomes essential to protecting one’s health. I’ll be honest: this is a lesson that will likely stay with me my whole life. Saying no, too, to certain professional opportunities. Survival-mode Nadine is still very present—the one who always wants a Plan A, B, C, D, and E. Having lived through moments when options felt scarce, this reflex has become my modus operandi.

Enough is enough: learning to truly feel enough

I’ve also been surprised to notice another small voice emerge—the one that whispers every day that I should be contributing more at home, since my husband works full-time and my financial contribution isn’t the same right now.

And yet, we’ve created a division of responsibilities that works well for both of us. My program of study and my college course each require about 20 hours a week—which, in concrete terms, adds up to full-time work. And still… it never feels like “enough.”

I wake up at the same time as my husband—sometimes even earlier—with this constant need to be productive. I often tell him:

“Today, I was productive—I finished XYZ.”

It’s wild, this drive to accomplish. My husband fully supports my aspirations and does everything he can to give me this space. The battle is internal. And it’s thanks to people like Kathryn—and to gratitude—that I manage to soothe these voices and fully welcome moments of presence, creativity, and well-being.

What society values… and what I choose to honour

This feeling of “not doing enough” also resurfaces when I observe the reactions around me. We still value productivity and professional status far more than being or well-being.

Few people show genuine interest in my program of study, even though it’s innovative and unique. Most want to know which university I’m doing my MBA with. Many assume I teach full-time, when it’s actually a temporary, part-time role meant to support my studies.

A recent comment—“good luck with the teaching and all that”—made me smile. It illustrates just how misunderstood my choices sometimes are. Maybe I didn’t explain them well. But if I need to justify them, isn’t that revealing of what we value collectively?

I sincerely thank the friends and family members who take an interest in what I’m learning, what I think, and how I feel. Thank you as well to those who encourage me to slow down. Someone thanked me today for the photos I share on social media—a gesture that touched me, as I’m discovering a new passion for photography. I’m far from being a photographer, but my artistic side is slowly finding its way… as long as I give it the space to breathe.

Despite these ambivalences, I keep returning to this intention: giving myself time and space to explore, breathe, and replenish. Kathryn shared with me that this struggle is still very present for her too—but that it becomes gentler with time.

I hold on to that idea. And in the meantime, I choose creativity, presence, and gratitude.

I look forward to reading your reflections, your experiences… and your advice.

Shutterstock Image:  Sometimes slowing down is how we learn to feel enough