Unlearning Urgency

I used to wear hustle like armor—
tight against the skin, glinting with survival.
If I slowed down, I’d vanish, right?
I thought stillness was surrender.

But I’m learning breath
as a form of protest.
That pause is holy.
That waiting doesn’t mean wasting.

Now, I let mornings bloom slowly,
coffee cradled like prayer,
emails unopened just a little longer,
my worth no longer a productivity report.

I’ve stopped mistaking burnout for bravery.
I don’t owe exhaustion to the world.
I owe myself presence.