A Workaholic

This is me. This was me. And by God’s grace, I’m healing.

I’m learning—slowly—that I don’t have to stay busy to prove my worth. For most of my life, that’s what I believed. Growing up, it felt like the only time I received genuine praise was when I was doing something for someone else. So I connected being productive with being valuable, purposeful. When people thanked me, applauded me, or needed me, it felt like my purpose. It felt like identity. It felt right. The truth is, I was a lonely girl craving affirmation, and I clung to the approval I got from what I accomplished.

But the world we live in feeds that lie. It celebrates busyness, wears exhaustion like a badge of honor, and tells us that constant productivity is the same thing as purpose. Yet underneath the drive of a workaholic heart, there’s almost always a quiet ache. Most of us aren’t working nonstop because we love the work—we’re working because slowing down feels too vulnerable, too exposing. The noise stops, the truth starts speaking.

Old wounds surface.

Buried fears rise.

Loneliness becomes louder.

And the identities we have built around our accomplishments begin to shake.

So we run. We fill every hour, every space, every moment—hoping productivity will protect us from pain.

When we stop doing, God begins working.

When we pause, He restores what constant motion has drained.

When we come out of hiding, He meets us in the open.

Maybe the real miracle God wants to do in our lives isn’t through our efforts, but through our willingness to rest in Him. You don’t have to outrun your past, your feelings, or your fears. You don’t have to earn the love of God. It's time -to rest.