Always in a hurry…
Ever since I was a little girl, I longed for the day I would finally be a grown-up.
I believed people would take me more seriously if my words came from the mouth of a woman instead of a 10-year-old girl.
I dreamt of my hair turning white, of embodying wisdom, and of becoming what I now recognize as an elder.
Growing up, my family had a tradition: our Christmas tree went up as soon as the last trick-or-treaters cleared the streets. Once my mom finished her Christmas shopping, we opened presents—sometimes before Thanksgiving, other times on Christmas Eve. The season was always a rush to the finish line, skipping through autumn and sprinting to the magic of Christmas.
It wasn’t until four years ago, as I began reconnecting with my own physiology, that I recognized the toll of living in this constant state of rushing.
As a parentified first-born daughter, I had been “grown-up” long before adulthood arrived. People joked that I was a grandma in toddler form. That pressure—to be responsible, to care for others, and to prove my worth—shaped me in ways I didn’t fully understand. My body responded by developing rapidly (experiencing my menarche a few months before my 11th birthday, and my bust grew to a size 36DD at 12 years old), a physical manifestation of my internal desire to grow up too fast.
What does this have to do with the holiday season?
Everything.
When I began honoring cycles—those of nature, life, and my own body—I realized how much beauty I’d missed by always hurrying to the next phase. Each cycle has its gifts, but rushing through them robs us of their magic.
This year, amidst the whirlwind of moving from sunny Southwest Florida back to our hometown in Oklahoma, something shifted. For the first time, we couldn’t rush. Instead, we embraced autumn fully. Even when we lived in Tennessee, we were RUSHING to get to winter because that meant we would be on our way back to Florida, and it’s a perpetual state of summer.
We marveled at the leaves changing colors, felt the brisk air on our walks, and savored conversations with our kids about the changes in nature and our lives. For once, the focus wasn’t “What do you want for Solstice?” but “What do we love about right now?”
Yesterday, on November 30th, we brought home our first real tree. Together as a family, we picked it out, brought it inside, and watched as Atlas, our four-year-old, sat and stared at his first tree in awe.
We’ve started our winter chapters in the Wheel of the Year and Circle Round books and enjoying The Solstice Badger, preparing for Yule and the solstice—not as a hurried obligation, but as a season to savor.
This slow, intentional pace has reminded me of the importance of honoring where we are. Rushing through life—or the holidays—means missing the gifts that each phase offers.
What I teach my clients goes beyond “cycle syncing” or prescribing tasks for different hormonal phases. It’s about cultivating reverence and deeply embodied appreciation for where you are in life right now.
When we rush through seasons, checkpoints, or milestones, we enter the next phase depleted, carrying the weight of what we skipped over.
If this resonates with you, and you're ready to step out of the hustle and into alignment with your natural rhythms, join me in The Rooted Woman Collective.
This is more than a mentorship; it’s a sanctuary for women ready to slow down, honor their cycles, and build businesses that nurture their well-being. Together, we’ll learn to embrace each phase with integrity and joy.
Let’s stop rushing. Let’s root into the present.
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