Let me just say it: I didn’t move to Mexico for a spiritual awakening. I moved because I wanted warmth, ocean air, and tacos that don’t come in cardboard sleeves. But somewhere between dodging iguanas and learning to siesta like a local, something inside me cracked open—something that had been duct-taped together by years of hustle culture, productivity guilt, and this nagging pressure to do more, be more, prove more.

Living here didn’t change me overnight. I didn’t wake up one morning all enlightened and cucumber calm. No, it was more like this slow burn—like tequila going down a little too smooth. It crept up on me.

The Hustle Hangover

Back in Canada, I was always busy. Always thinking about what needed to be done. There was this mental scoreboard—if I wasn’t constantly ticking things off a list, I felt like I was losing. Rest made me twitchy. Joy felt like something I had to earn. Even when I wasn’t working, I was working—mentally planning, organizing, obsessing.

And guess what? That sh*t doesn’t fly here.

Try pulling that go-go-go mentality in a place where time is a suggestion and mañana might mean tomorrow—or it might mean three Tuesdays from now. The culture here doesn’t reward the grind. It doesn’t even understand it. People take their time. They prioritize connection over convenience. They sit. They talk. They enjoy their damn lives.

It was jarring. And freeing. And uncomfortable as hell.

Learning to Sit My A** Down

One of the weirdest things I had to learn? How to just be. Not scroll. Not plan. Not fix or prep or create. Just sit. Maybe drink tea. Watch the wind move the trees. Let Charlie and Bean be chaotic little monsters without trying to multitask life around them.

At first, I felt guilty. Like I was wasting time.

Now? I realize I was finally living it.

This place taught me that presence is productive. That rest isn’t a reward for good behavior—it’s part of the damn equation. That I’m more creative, more grounded, and more me when I slow down and listen to what I need.

Sometimes that’s a nap. Sometimes it’s writing. Sometimes it’s wandering through the market looking for cheese that doesn’t taste like sadness. Whatever it is, it’s enough.

Redefining Success (No Spreadsheet Required)

Here’s the wild part: the less I push, the more aligned everything feels.

I’m still working. I still have goals and plans and dreams that make my heart race. But I’m not dragging myself through them anymore. I don’t feel like I have to prove my worth by being chronically exhausted.

Success looks different now. It looks like:

• Waking up without an alarm.

• Letting the sun hit my face while I sip coconut green tea.

• Writing words that feel true instead of forced.

• Running a business that serves my life—not the other way around.

  
  

I didn’t know that was allowed. Turns out, it’s more than allowed—it’s better.

You Can’t Rush Peace

I wish I could hand this mindset to everyone I know. But the truth is, peace isn’t downloadable. You can’t force it. You have to unlearn the noise. And that takes time.

So if you’re where I was—overwhelmed, stuck in the shoulds, convinced that slowing down will make everything fall apart—this is your permission slip. Take a walk. Stare at the ceiling. Make a sandwich and eat it with both hands instead of one.

Start listening to what your body’s been whispering under all that pressure.

Mexico didn’t fix me. But it gave me space to find who I want to be, and what I want my life to look like.

And now, I protect that peace like it’s gold. Because it is.

PS: If you’ve been feeling like your life is too loud, too fast, too much—trust me. Slowing down won’t ruin you. It might just bring you back to yourself.