.:LEARNING TO LIVE MORE SLOWLY:.

For many years, my life revolved around work.

I tattooed five days a week for years, and although I genuinely loved what I did, it was demanding. Long days often left me exhausted, and my time off became less about adventure and more about trying to recover enough to begin again the following week.

Even then, I didn’t necessarily consider myself someone who was always busy…

I enjoyed quiet evenings.

I appreciated rest.

I wasn’t filling my days with meaningless distractions.

But looking back, I can see that much of my life still revolved around productivity. Even in moments of stillness, my mind was often somewhere else.

Thinking…

Planning…

Preparing…

Trying to stay ahead…

Trying to build a future I believed in…

And in many ways, I’m grateful for those years.

Those sacrifices I made provided stability during seasons when I would eventually need it most...

But somewhere along the way, I began to understand that constantly moving in life isn’t the same thing as being present in life.

Years ago, meditation, breathwork, and deep inner reflection introduced me to another way of living.

Not a slower life out of laziness… a slower life on purpose.

A life that bends instead of breaks.

A life that softens instead of hardens.

A life that values presence over urgency.

And once I began experiencing that shift within myself, I started noticing how much of the world seemed to operate on autopilot. Everyone rushing from one thing to the next, wearing exhaustion like a badge of honor, rarely stopping long enough to ask why.

What once felt normal began to feel strangely chaotic.

So I began practicing slowness.

Definitely not perfectly, and not all at once…

But intentionally.

Over time, I stopped chasing constant productivity.

I stopped needing external validation.

I stopped feeling like I had to prove myself, especially within the tattoo industry.

I have tremendous respect for the artists and traditions that came before me, but at the end of the day, we are all simply people practicing an ancient art form.

I feel that respect, kindness and humility matters…

But proving myself in that world no longer does.

—

These days, joy often looks much simpler.

Returning to my vision I had for my life.

Getting back into gardening.

Sharing meals with family.

Learning to bake.

Reading books.

Watching the seasons change.

Spending time outdoors.

Creating without pressure.

Tattooing intentionally.

And embracing the beauty found in ordinary days.

—

Perhaps what I’ve come to understand most is that ‘enough’ is not something waiting for me somewhere in the future.

Enough begins with boundaries.

With honoring my own limits.

With refusing to abandon myself or allow others to do the same.

And perhaps most importantly, with remembering that I am enough exactly as I am.

It’s something I hope to pass on as well.

I want my child to know that she never needs to rush…That life isn’t a race.

That she can trust her own pace.

That her passions can guide her.

And that she is already enough, exactly as she is.

—

If I could tell my younger self anything, it would be this:

Slowing down isn’t as scary as it seems.

There is no prize waiting for the person who hurries through life the fastest.

Enjoy your childhood.

Enjoy your adolescence.

Enjoy the seasons where you are simply allowed to be.

Because slowing down creates space.

Space to notice, to breathe, to wonder, to heal…

And space to experience the world not through hypervigilance or the constant scanning for what might go wrong, but through a quieter lens.

One that allows us to witness the beauty that has been there all along.

Perhaps we miss so much not because beauty is absent, but because we rarely give ourselves permission to slow down long enough to see it.