I Stopped Chasing Success After Loss—and Found Something Greater

I never allowed my world to come to a halt, even when it was shattered by the unexpected death of my daughter, Magnolia. In those first days, weeks, and months, I was in pure survival mode, desperately scrambling through the pain. Life without her felt unimaginable, and each step into the unknown seemed unbearable. But the world kept spinning, and I struggled to find a way to step off.

I spent so much time teetered between anguish and distraction, trying to find a delicate balance. I’d cry until my tears ran dry, only to wake up and relive the grief again the next day. Amid the pain, I felt an intense pressure to create meaning from the void, to honor her life in some way.

So, after processing and processing until I couldn’t process anymore, I threw myself into the acceptance of my new reality and the familiar hustle, chasing purpose and “success” as I had known it before. But after losing a child, something fundamental shifts within you. Those early weeks spent just existing left me with a desperate fear of missing out—like I’d already lost so much and couldn’t bear to lose more. I rushed back into life, seeking validation and chasing every spark of inspiration, hoping to find some kind of redemption after the loss, all while grappling with the immense void she left behind that seemed impossible to fill.

Yet, all I found was resentment and burnout.

I kept pushing myself to keep up, to build what I thought I wanted. But was that really what I wanted, or just another distraction?

The Lesson:

You can’t go back to life as it was before. Period.

Repeating the same things and expecting different results—that’s the definition of insanity, after all.

For a time, I clung to old versions of myself, thinking they might hold the key to success. Though, what does “success” even mean now? I considered returning to familiar roles—hairstyling, working at a bank, anything to fill the aching void. Sometimes, the only way to truly learn a lesson is to walk those old roads and realize they no longer fit.

That’s how clarity finds you, in the quiet realization of what you’ve outgrown.

Sixteen months after her birth, (October 2024) I finally acknowledged the battle I’d been fighting. Slowing down came wrapped in frustration, bitterness, and resentment—but also a profound relief. Relief in no longer having to perform or live up to an image that no longer resonated. I canceled all obligations, let go of expectations, and stripped my life down to its essentials. I finally created the space to breathe, to allow my world to slow down—perhaps for the first time ever.

Letting my world stop was exactly how I was meant to honor her.

In this openness, I’ve been led to ideas and opportunities that truly fill me up, all while honoring the slowness and simplicity I so deeply crave. I’m also embracing new core values that prioritize family, connection, and authenticity, allowing these guiding principles to shape my journey forward.

Letting everything fall away was essential; it was through giving myself permission that everything could finally align as it was meant to.

This is your invitation and permission to step off the wheel and let the world come to a halt—even if just for a day. If you feel the call for the slow down, embrace it. In that stillness, you may discover the profound shifts that await you, revealing the clarity and peace that can only emerge when you allow yourself the space to truly recalibrate.