Breaking the Cycle of Hustle Culture: A love letter to the exhausted mothers, the burned-out souls, and the children who deserve a softer way.

A love letter to the exhausted mothers, the burned-out souls, and the children who deserve a softer way

I still remember the moment my body gave out.

Four jobs. Endless responsibilities. Everyone is depending on me. I thought I was being strong. I thought I was doing what had to be done. I thought this was what love looked like—sacrificing everything, pushing through exhaustion, never stopping.

Until I couldn't get out of bed.

For months, I was bedridden. Too sick to care for myself. My teenage daughter Rose became my caretaker, and in those long, quiet days of forced rest, I finally saw what I'd been doing—not just to myself, but to her.

I had been teaching her that this was normal. That this was what strength looked like. That burning out was just part of being an adult.

And the truth is, we're all doing this not just in our individual homes, but also collectively and systematically. We've created a culture that programs our children for burnout before they even understand what rest means.

It's time we talked about it.

When Did Childhood Become a Full-Time Job?

Close your eyes for a moment and think about a typical day for a child in our current world.

They wake up before sunrise. Rush through breakfast. Spend seven to eight hours at school, sitting still, following instructions, being measured and tested. They come home with backpacks full of homework—another two to three hours of work. Add in extracurricular activities, sports practices, music lessons, tutoring, and test prep for college admissions that are still years away.

By the time they collapse into bed, they've worked a longer day than most adults.

And we call this childhood.

At some point, we decided that our children's worth would be measured by their productivity. Their grades. Their achievements. Their ability to build an impressive resume before they're old enough to vote.

We've turned play into frivolity. Rest into laziness. Childhood into a training ground for the burnout they'll experience as adults.

Our babies are learning the same lessons we learned: that you have to earn your place, that love is conditional on performance, that stopping means failing.

And their bodies are already showing the cost.

The Anxiety Epidemic We're Not Talking About

I see it in the young women who come to our circles—teenagers carrying stress in their shoulders, anxiety in their bellies, exhaustion in their eyes. Girls who should be discovering their identities are instead terrified of not being enough.

Rose's friends. The daughters of the women in our Soft Hearts Society. Beautiful souls already running on empty, already feeling behind, already convinced that rest is something they'll have to earn someday, after they've proven themselves worthy.

Studies show that anxiety and depression in children and teenagers have skyrocketed. Suicide rates among young people are climbing. Burnout—once considered an adult workplace phenomenon—is now being diagnosed in high school students.

This isn't normal. This isn't inevitable. This is what happens when we systematically teach children to override their bodies, ignore their needs, and measure their humanity by their output.

The Blueprint Was Designed for Factories, Not Humans

Here's something most people don't realize: our modern education system was designed during the Industrial Revolution.

The goal? To create obedient factory workers.

Sit still. Follow instructions. Don't question authority. Suppress your natural impulses. Produce, produce, produce. Be measured by standardized metrics that reduce your complexity to a simple number.

We're generations past assembly lines now, but we're still operating from the same blueprint.

Children who need to move are told to sit still—and when they can't, they're labeled as problems. Creative thinkers who question the status quo are seen as disruptive. Sensitive souls who feel deeply are told they're too much.

The system wasn't designed for the full spectrum of human brilliance. It was designed for compliance.

And after twelve to eighteen years of this conditioning, is it any wonder so many of us reach adulthood completely disconnected from ourselves? Unable to recognize our own needs? Convinced that our worth is tied to our productivity?

By the time we're old enough to choose differently, the programming runs so deep we don't even know there's another way.

The Inheritance I Didn't Mean to Pass Down

When I look back at those years of overworking—four jobs at once, providing for everyone, saying yes when my body was screaming no—I thought I was teaching Rose about strength.

I thought I was showing her how to be independent. How to be a provider. How to never need anyone.

But what she actually learned was that her mother's work was more important than her presence. That sacrifice meant disappearing from your own life. That love looked like depletion.

I was passing down the same pattern that had been passed to me.

My mother didn't protect me when I needed her most. She was so caught up in her own survival that she couldn't see mine. And I swore I would be different—but in trying so hard to provide, I abandoned Rose differently.

I wasn't there. I was always working. Always exhausted. Always pushing her away to take care of everyone else.

The irony is that I was trying to break a generational pattern, but I was actually perpetuating it, just in a different costume.

What Burnout Really Taught Me

When my body broke down, when I had no choice but to stop, everything changed.

Rose had to take care of me. My fierce, beautiful daughter became my caretaker, and in the vulnerability of being seen at my worst, something cracked open between us.

We started talking, really talking.

About the trauma we'd both experienced. About the childhood abuse I'd survived and tried to forget. About her father's violence—the man who damaged my C4-C5 vertebrae, who we finally escaped when she was two. About my narcissistic mother, whom I provided for financially, even though she'd failed to protect me.

We talked about how I'd enabled everyone, how I'd let people use me because I thought being tribal meant giving everything away, how I'd mistaken people-pleasing for love.

And in those conversations, we both began to heal.

Rose saw something she'd never seen before: she saw me choose myself. She saw me set boundaries. She saw me rest without guilt—not because I'd earned it, but because I finally understood it was my birthright.

And in witnessing my healing, she learned that another way was possible.

The Message Our Actions Are Sending

Here's what I've come to understand: our children don't learn from our words. They learn from our lives.

If we're burned out, if we're running on fumes, if we're modeling that rest is something you earn after you've given everything away—that's the lesson they'll internalize.

They're watching us:

• Check emails during dinner

• Say "I'm fine" when we're falling apart

• Promise we'll rest later, after one more thing

• Measure our worth by what we produce

• Apologize for having needs

• Sacrifice our health for productivity

And they're learning that this is what adulthood looks like. This is what strength means. This is what they should aspire to.

We can tell them to take care of themselves all we want, but if we're not embodying it, the message doesn't land.

What the Soft Life Really Means

The soft life isn't about never working. It's not about being lazy or unambitious.

The soft life is about coming home to yourself. It's about moving through the world from a place of fullness rather than depletion. It's about building a life where you don't have to burn out to matter.

For Rose and me, the soft life looks like:

Rest as a sacred practice. We don't wait until we're depleted. We rest before we need it. We honor our bodies' rhythms instead of overriding them.

Boundaries as love. We've learned to say no without guilt. To protect our energy. To understand that boundaries aren't walls—they're the gates that let in what nourishes us and keep out what depletes us.

Presence over productivity. We do things together—such as healing our inner children, practicing self-care, sitting in circle, playing music, and making art. Not to achieve anything, but to be together.

Honoring our gifts without titles. I'm a Reiki Master and certified trauma-informed yoga instructor, but those titles don't define me. Rose can do Reiki, speaks multiple languages, and creates beautiful art—but her accomplishments do not define her. We lead with our humanity, not our credentials.

Fluid, not structured. We don't force ourselves into rigid systems. Our business, Allonia Rose, adapts to the collective needs. What we're healing from. What wants to emerge.

This is the soft life. And it's the medicine our children desperately need.

What We Can Teach Them Differently

I want something different for the next generation. For Rose's peers. For the daughters of the women in our circles. For your children.

Here's what I'm committed to teaching:

Your Body Is Wise

When you're tired, rest. When you need to move, move. When something doesn't feel right, trust that. You don't need permission to honor what your body is telling you.

Rest Is Not Lazy

Rest is how we heal. Rest is how we integrate. Rest is how we remember who we are underneath all the doing. Rest is productive—it's just producing something different than what capitalism values.

Your Worth Is Inherent

You are not your grades. You are not your achievements. You are not your productivity. You are not your usefulness to others. You are valuable simply because you exist. Your worth is not up for debate.

Boundaries Are Beautiful

Saying no to what depletes you creates space for what nourishes you. This isn't selfish—this is self-preservation. This is how you stay in your body, in your life, in your truth.

Softness Is Strength

The ability to be gentle with yourself, to move through life without armor, to feel deeply, to stay tender in a world that demands hardness—this is the most courageous thing you can do.

You Don't Have to Wait

You don't have to burn out first to give yourself permission to rest. You don't have to hit rock bottom to make a different choice. You can start now. Today. This moment.

Redefining Success for Our Children

What if we completely reimagined what success means?

Not the best grades or the most activities or the fullest resume, but:

• Knowing how to listen to their bodies and honor what they need

• Having the courage to rest when they're tired

• Building relationships that nourish rather than deplete

• Creating boundaries that protect their peace

• Finding joy in simply being, not just doing

• Developing a relationship with themselves that's rooted in love, not criticism

• Understanding their unique design and honoring it (like Rose and I do with Human Design—she's a 4/1 Self-Projected Projector, I'm a 1/3 Splenic Projector)

What if we celebrated the child who says, "I need a break," as much as we celebrate the one who pushes through exhaustion?

What if we honored the teenager who chooses less so they can have more presence, more peace, more of themselves?

What if we raised a generation that understood rest as resistance? That saw softness as power? Those who refused to sacrifice their humanity for productivity?

Breaking the Pattern in Our Homes

We can't change the entire education system overnight. We can't dismantle hustle culture overnight. We can't undo generations of conditioning in a single conversation.

But we can change what happens in our homes.

We can become the soft place our children land. We can model a different way. We can have different conversations.

Here's how we're doing it in our family, and what I'm teaching in our Soft Hearts Society circles:

Model Rest Unapologetically

Take naps. Have slow mornings. Say "I'm resting today" without justification. Let your children see that rest isn't earned—it's essential.

Talk About Feelings and Body Sensations

"I notice I'm feeling overwhelmed. I'm going to take a few deep breaths." "My body feels tense. I think I need to move." Name what you're experiencing so they learn the language of embodiment.

Set Boundaries Out Loud

"I love you, and I'm not available right now. I need some quiet time." "That doesn't work for me, so I'm going to say no." Show them that boundaries don't mean you love someone any less.

Celebrate Non-Productive Time

"I'm so glad you spent the afternoon reading for fun!" "That looked like an excellent rest—how do you feel?" Make space for activities that have no goal beyond enjoyment.

Question the System Together

When your child is stressed about school: "I know the system asks a lot of you. Let's talk about what you actually need, and see what we can adjust." Validate their experience rather than pushing them to work harder.

Share Your Own Healing Journey

Age-appropriately, let them see you heal. Let them know you're unlearning patterns too. Rose and I talk openly about our inner child work, our shadow work, and our healing from trauma. It normalizes the journey.

Create Rituals of Softness

We have various rituals in our home, including buffalo drum journeys, Reiki sessions, journaling together, prayer in light language, and altar work. Find what feels sacred to your family and make space for it regularly.

The Ripple Effect of Your Healing

Here's the truth that changed everything for me:

Your healing is their healing.

When you choose to rest, you give them permission to rest.

When you set boundaries, you show them what self-love looks like.

When you honor your body, you teach them that their body is trustworthy.

When you break the pattern of burnout in your own life, you stop passing it down to the next generation.

This is the work. Not just healing ourselves, but healing the lineage, breaking the cycle, and creating something new.

An Invitation to the Soft Life

If you're reading this and recognizing yourself—the burnout, the overwhelm, the realization that you've been passing down patterns you never meant to pass down—I want you to know: you're not alone.

This is the conversation we're having in our Soft Hearts Society membership. Women in or just out of corporate America. Women who are burned out, exhausted, and trying to hold it all together. Women with families or without. Women navigating health challenges, life transitions, perimenopause, old wounds, and new boundaries.

Women who are ready for the soft life.

We gather weekly for livestreams. We receive monthly guided meditations, journal prompts, affirmations, and rituals. We have a library of resources that's constantly growing. We hold space for each other—not with rigid structure, but with a fluid, responsive community that meets you where you are.

I also show up on Insight Timer for free 30-minute women's circles in our Sacred Sisterhood: Soft Living group, plus guided meditations and premium courses on topics like ancestral healing for mothers and daughters, shadow work, inner child work, and navigating perimenopause and menopause together.

Rose and I created Allonia Rose because we believe in the power of coming together. Of remembering ourselves. Of choosing softness in a world that demands hardness.

We're here for you. And we're here for your children, too—because when we heal, they heal.

The Medicine in Our Stories

Everything I went through—the abuse, the bad marriage, the damaged vertebrae in my neck, the narcissistic mother I provided for even though she didn't protect me, the strained relationship with my sister, the months of being bedridden, the overworking, the people-pleasing, the disconnection from Rose—all of it is medicine now.

Not because it was good. Not because I'm grateful for the trauma. But because I can use it to help others break the pattern.

I can say: "I see you. I've been where you are. And there's another way."

I can hold space for the woman who's burning out and whisper: "Your body is trying to save you. Listen."

I can tell the teenager who's exhausted: "You don't have to wait until you hit rock bottom. You can choose differently now."

The wounds we carry become the wisdom we share—but only if we choose to heal them.

A New Vision for the Next Generation

I dream of a world where children grow up knowing their worth isn't tied to their output.

Where teenagers understand that rest is sacred, not lazy.

Where young adults enter the workforce with firm boundaries, embodied knowing, and a commitment to their own well-being.

Where mothers don't have to burn out before they give themselves permission to soften.

Where the tribal energy of community doesn't mean sacrificing yourself—it means supporting each other in staying whole.

This is possible. But it starts with us.

It starts with the choice you make today: to rest, to set a boundary, to honor your body, to model something different for the children watching.

Coming Home to Yourself

The soft life isn't a destination. It's a practice. A daily choice. A gentle unlearning of everything that taught you to abandon yourself.

It's coming home to your body after years of living in your head.

It's coming home to rest after decades of proving your worth through exhaustion.

It's coming home to yourself—underneath all the pain, all the overworking, all the patterns you inherited and didn't choose.

And when you come home to yourself, you show your children that they can too.

They don't have to wait until they're burned out.

They don't have to learn the hard way.

They can have a soft life from the beginning—because you chose to break the cycle.

Let's Break This Cycle Together

Take a breath with me right now.

Deep into your belly. Slow and soft.

You're doing important work just by being here. By reading this. By considering a different way.

Your healing matters. Your rest matters. Your presence is more than your productivity.

And the children in your life—whether they're your own or the collective's—they're watching. They're learning. They're waiting to see if another way is possible.

Let's show them it is.

One soft, intentional choice at a time.

Ready to join us in the soft life? Learn more about our Soft Hearts Society membership, connect with us in our free Sacred Sisterhood circle on Insight Timer, or explore our courses on ancestral healing, shadow work, and creating boundaries.

You are so loved, beautiful soul. Until we gather again in circle, may you rest well.

— Your sister in softness

About Allonia Rose

Allonia Rose is a sacred space for women in all stages of life—from burnout to healing, from hustle to softness, from disconnection to remembering. Founded by a mother-daughter duo (1/3 Splenic Projector and 4/1 Self-Projected Projector), we hold circles, create courses, and build community for women ready to come home to themselves. We lead with our tribal energy, our gifts (Reiki, trauma-informed yoga, light language, art, music), and our commitment to the soft life. This is a fluid, responsive space that adapts to the collective's evolving needs. Welcome home. 🤍

Rose