There have been seasons of my life when I was incredibly busy.
Building. Selling. Traveling. Dating. Working. Dancing. Moving. Creating.
From the outside, it probably looked like momentum. It felt like momentum back then. This season has asked me to learn that motion and momentum aren’t the same thing.
Motion shows me something is happening.
Momentum shows me something is building.
And I think that’s an important distinction, particularly for those of us who are very good at “doing.” Because doing can be intoxicating.
A full calendar can make us feel important. A new opportunity can make us feel like we’re advancing. Even change itself can create the sensation of progress.
But movement without intention can become its own form of distraction.
What is all this motion actually creating?
That question has made me look more closely at the things I say yes to. An opportunity can be exciting and still take me further from the life I’m actually trying to build. A new project can switch up the mundane routine though pull me away from the progress I was already creating. A packed week can be productive and still leave no room for what matters most to me.
The activity is real. So is the effort. I’ve had to learn that effort alone doesn’t tell me whether I’m headed where I want to go.
Throughout this season, I’ve spoken with many industry leaders about what separates an excellent sales rep from a standard one. The qualities they name are familiar: drive, strategic thinking, empathy, organization, and excellent communication.
But drive alone can keep you busy in the wrong direction. Working smarter asks you to use the rest of those qualities, too.
In a recent interview, I was asked how I define growth.
I’m usually the one asking that question.
My answer has changed over time. Growth means knowing your season. Knowing your territory. Paying attention to your personal and professional development. It means growing from within while building relationships that may open the right doors at the right time. And it means taking stock of what you’ve achieved instead of immediately moving the goalpost. Knowing when to push, when to press pause, when to pull back and when to pull through.
Every successful sales rep wants to see their name near the top of the leaderboard. I understand that ambition. I’ve lived it. I also know that some seasons ask for diligence and patience before the results become visible.
That’s still growth. And recognizing it takes a different kind of leadership.
I recently returned back to Alex Soojung-Kim Pang’s book Rest. The idea of deliberate rest has become much more personal to me this season. (hachettebookgroup.com)
I never took naps before. Now, I savor them.
There’s plenty of research behind the value of a pause.
I’m glad the research exists. I also don’t want to make rest justify itself with a performance metric.
There’s a spiritual part of this for me, too. When I slow down, I can hear myself again.
I can notice what I’m feeling, what I’m avoiding, and what I actually want. That space is easy to give away. If we don’t protect time for ourselves, someone else will gladly take it from us.
Sometimes protecting that time looks like a nap. Sometimes it looks like a longer pause. Sometimes it looks like taking a season off. Either way, I’ve learned that I don’t have to fill every opening in my life just because it’s there.
Sometimes the most aligned thing I’ve done has looked remarkably unimpressive from the outside.
I’ve stopped. I’ve said no. I’ve waited — Even when I wanted to jump.
2026 has required me to slow down and at times it was frustrating as hell. Though more discernment has come through.
I’ve allowed an opportunity to pass without immediately replacing it with another one. That was particularly inconvenient when you are someone who enjoys movement.
I mean, I am literally a dancer.
Standing still felt suspicious.
Like, what am I supposed to do when the music slows down?
But even on a dance floor, moving constantly isn’t the point. You have to hear the music. You have to know when to step, when to turn, and when to let a moment breathe. Otherwise, you’re just doing a lot of footwork.
And the music will pick up again. When it does, I get to choose how I respond. I can say yes to every invitation because I’m relieved to be moving, or I can discern which ones are taking me where I want to go.
That has been a great lesson in leadership, too. Pausing gives me room to make a choice I can stand behind. Then I can move with intention.
Just because “I can” do something doesn’t mean “I have to.” And for any high achiever reading this essay I hope this reasonates with you.
Perhaps maturity isn’t learning how to keep yourself in motion. Perhaps it’s learning which movements deserve your energy.
Because I don’t want to spend my life simply proving that I can move.
I want my movement to mean something.
That’s momentum backed with alignment.
