I tend to think more is more.

More preparation.
More value.
More effort.
More things packed into the weekend.

Apparently, more things packed into the lunchbox too.

Part of me still thinks being a good mum means producing the perfectly considered lunchbox. That being good at my work means giving people everything I possibly can. That if I’m hosting something, teaching something or creating something, I need to pack it full of value.

But lately I’ve been asking myself a different question:

What if less is more?

It came up after my Words Matter masterclass last week.

I had 20 people give up an hour of their day to work on themselves - specifically their narrative, how they show up, what they believe about their own value and how confidently they communicate it.

I loved every moment - except when the tech issues struck and the mental gremilins snuck in momentarily.

One of my biggest learnings afterwards was that I’d tried to fit too much in.

I thought adding value meant giving people more.

More ideas. More exercises. More teaching.

What some of the feedback told me was that people actually wanted more space.

More time to sit with a question. More time to notice what was coming up. More time for the self-inquiry to do its work.

Not more content.

More space.

And once I noticed it there, I started seeing it everywhere over the last week.

When did over-delivering become proof that we're doing a good job?

I think a lot of us wrap our value up in how much we can carry.

How productive we are. How much we give. How organised the kids are. How much we achieve at work. How many people we can look after while still appearing to have our own shit together.

And I can absolutely operate like that.

For a while.

Then my 40-something hormones have other ideas, the tank empties and suddenly I have nothing left for myself or, ironically, for the things and people I was really looking forward to enjoying.

Which made something that happened this week particularly interesting.

I wagged Book Week. Okay, technically it was a belated Book Week parade.

I had blocked the time in my diary. I could have gone.

And I chose not to.

I needed that hour back.

Controversial?

Maybe.

Did I lie to my daughter and pretend I had an important meeting?

No.

I told her the truth.

And then came the guilt

Of course it did.

The voice arrived pretty quickly:

What kind of mother deliberately skips something when she could technically make it?

And this, for me, is where the work actually happens.

I don't necessarily get rid of that voice.

I hear it.

I just don't automatically obey it anymore.

I don't have to give every thought that enters my head oxygen.

Instead, I can ask a better question:

What choice is going to create the greatest impact for me, my family and the work I care about?

On that particular morning, it wasn't the Book Week parade.

So instead, I committed to bringing the four 5-day-old baby silkies we got over the weekend into show and tell (officially News). An afternoon activity not first thing when my brain is fresh and full of ideas.

Maybe the goal isn't to fit everything in

I'm big on performance.

I want my brain and body to come to the party every day.

I want to be a present mum. I want to build a business I'm proud of. I want to be creative, useful and ambitious. I want to have energy left for my friends, my partner and the things I actually love doing.

And I am slowly accepting that I cannot have all of that by continually running myself into the ground trying to prove that I can do all of that.

Sometimes the highest-performance choice is rest.

Sometimes a lunch order is the simpler lunchbox.

Sometimes the washing can wait and the walk can't.

Sometimes the presentation needs fewer slides and more breathing room.

Sometimes being there for our children means showing them that their parents are human beings with needs, ambitions and limits too.

Will the kids be damaged because Mum missed a belated Book Week parade?

I'm going to go with probably not.

Will they one day be proud that I built something from scratch, pursued work that mattered to me and tried to show them what it looks like to back yourself?

Well, I hope so.

The Life Lesson

I'm not going to pretend I've mastered doing less.

I still feel guilty.

I still overpack the weekend. I still overfill my suitcase. I still catch myself trying to put twelve ideas into something that needs three at most. I still have moments when slowing down feels suspiciously like I'm not doing enough.

But perhaps that's the practice.

Not eliminating the guilt before we make a different choice.

Making the choice even when the guilt comes with us.

Hearing the old story without allowing it to run the show.

Because doing less doesn't necessarily mean caring less, achieving less or giving less.

Sometimes it means becoming far more deliberate about where our energy actually matters.

And maybe that allows us to give something better than more.

Presence.

Thoughtfulness.

Energy.

Ourselves.

A question to sit with

What would doing less look like in your life and what guilt would you need to be willing to feel in order to choose it?