It was a Sunday. I’d just gotten home from leading a yoga teacher training. My daughter looked up at me and said it: “Mommy, I miss you.” I was home. I was right there in front of her. But she missed me.

Maybe you haven’t heard those exact words. But maybe you’ve felt the version that lives in your own life.

The patient you genuinely love seeing — but you’re already mentally exhausted before they walk in. The family dinner you missed because you had a late cancellation to make up for. The vacation you half-took, still answering messages, still doing math on what a week off would cost you. The version of yourself you keep promising you’ll return to once things slow down. Things don’t slow down. Not in this model. I kept pushing too — because I had built what everyone told me was success. Six-figure clinic. Back-to-back patients. Fifteen classes a week. Certifications stacking up. Always growing, always busy, always saying yes. Everything looked good on paper.

Until it didn’t.