What's in this issue:

• Why we rush through our own healing (and what that costs us)

• Practical ways to give yourself permission to go slow

• How eldest daughter syndrome shows up in our recovery timelines

The real talk: The best networking happens when you stop thinking about what you can get and start focusing on who you can genuinely connect with.

Hey ,

One week into my new job and I'm already catching myself doing that thing again - you know, the one where I expect to have everything figured out immediately? Where I want to skip the awkward learning phase and jump straight to feeling confident and capable?

My therapist would have a field day with this (and probably will at our next session). Because here's what she reminds me almost every week: healing, growth, and change take time. And rushing through them? That's just another way of avoiding the discomfort that comes with being human.

Giving Yourself Permission to Go Slow

For those of us who've been conditioned to figure things out quickly and move on, slowing down feels almost... wrong. But here's what I'm learning about honoring your own pace:

• Acknowledge the internal pressure: Notice when you're rushing your own process. Ask yourself: "Am I trying to skip ahead because I'm uncomfortable with where I am right now?" That awareness alone can help you pause.

• Reframe "taking time" as strength, not weakness: We've been taught that needing time to process or heal means we're somehow less capable. But actually? Having the courage to sit in discomfort so you can come out better on the other side takes incredible strength.

• Let go of destination thinking: Release the expectation to reach some perfect "healed" or "figured out" state. Growth isn't a destination - it's an ongoing journey of becoming who you're meant to be.

• Give your emotions space to exist: When big feelings come up (joy, sadness, frustration), resist the urge to immediately move on to the next thing. Let them flow for as long as they need to. Your emotions have information for you.

• Remember that humans are complex: You might still be processing things from years ago, and that's completely normal. We're not computers that can just delete old files and move on - we're layered, complicated beings who need time to unravel and understand our experiences.

Recuerda: Rushing through healing often means repressing emotions or insights that could actually serve you. Going slow isn't a luxury - it's necessary.

I had a flare-up with my hip and shoulder pain a couple weeks ago, and honestly? I lost it. I've been in physical therapy since January for these issues, which means I've been limited in dancing and running - two activities that bring me pure joy - for six months now.

During this flare-up, all I could think was "I just want to be healed already." I wanted to go out dancing, to feel that rush from a good run, to feel like my body was working with me instead of against me. The frustration was so intense that I felt broken, defeated, and después de six months of this... hopeless.

But here's what I'm realizing: this impatience with my physical healing is connected to something much deeper. Growing up as the eldest daughter, I had to figure things out quickly - not just for myself, but to help my parents navigate systems they didn't understand (even though I had zero idea what I was doing either). This created a "go, go, go" mentality where pausing felt like a luxury I couldn't afford. Taking my time meant I couldn't help my family or it would take me longer to get where I needed to be.

That conditioning runs deep! And it shows up everywhere - in how I expect myself to bounce back from health issues, process complex emotions, or even learn a new job.

A few weeks ago, when my new manager reached out to chat, I felt this overwhelming mix of joy and sadness hit me all at once. Joy about having a new opportunity at the same company, sadness about the whole layoff experience I'd been through. My instinct was to not cry, to just push through and move on to my next activity.

Instead, I let myself cry for about 15 minutes. I just sat there and let the tears flow - both the happy ones and the sad ones - before getting up and going about my day. It felt revolutionary, honestly. Like I was finally giving myself permission to feel complex emotions instead of rushing through them to get to some "better" emotional state.

My therapist keeps reminding me that change doesn't happen overnight (cliché pero true!). There are things I'm still processing from years ago, and that's not a personal failing - that's just how humans work. We're complex beings on an ongoing journey of growth and evolution.

As I start this new job, I'm trying to approach it with curiosity instead of frustration when things feel confusing or unfamiliar. It won't always feel like this, and that's okay. Actually, that's the whole point!

_{¿Qué dijo? / What did she say?}
después de - after
ya sabes - you know
pero - but