The Enough Edit

I’m Starting to Wonder If the Goal Was Never More

For a long time, I assumed more was the natural direction of travel.

More responsibility. A bigger job. More things. The next goal.

I don't think I ever sat down and consciously decided that was what a successful life looked like. It was simply the rhythm of adulthood. You worked hard, moved forward, accumulated things and kept going.

Lately, I've been questioning that.

Not because I've suddenly become a minimalist. I haven't. I like beautiful things far too much for that.

I've watched plenty of YouTube videos about minimalism over the years, and while I appreciate the philosophy, I have no desire to count how many shirts I own or live in a nearly empty room. My Scandinavian side does, however, appreciate what happens when there is less clutter around me. I like space. I like simplicity. And increasingly, I'd rather have one beautiful, well-made thing than three mediocre versions of it. That’s the Italian side of me, too.

But I've realized that my thoughts about having enough aren't really about possessions.

They're about something much bigger.

Sunlit wooden table in a coastal cottage overlooking sailboats on the water.

The complicated history of enough

The word enough carries some baggage for me.

I grew up feeling that somehow I wasn't quite enough on my own.

That's taken years of self-care and work on myself to untangle. Somewhere along the way, I began to understand something I wish I'd understood much earlier: I don't have to accomplish my way into being enough.

I already am.

I don't say that casually. And I certainly didn't arrive there at 25.

Maybe that's one of the quieter gifts of getting older. Some things that seemed enormously important when we were younger begin to lose their power over us.

Which brings me to work.

I got a glimpse of the next rung

Until fairly recently, I assumed I would continue climbing the corporate ladder.

That was what you did when you were ambitious and good at your work. You took on more. Managed more. Became responsible for more. Eventually, you reached the next level.

Then I got close enough to see what that next level actually required.

More responsibility. More pressure. More of my time.

And during a period when I was working with a leader who wasn't particularly supportive, I began asking myself a question I hadn't really asked before:

Do I actually want this?

Not, Could I do it?

Not, Have I earned it?

Not even, Would it pay me more?

Did I want the life that came with it?

My answer surprised me.

I think I've traveled about as far up that particular ladder as I want to go.

That doesn't mean I want to stop working. Quite the opposite. I still want meaningful work. I want to use what I've learned. I want to contribute, volunteer, advise, build things and earn money doing work that interests me.

I'm just becoming much less interested in collecting titles for the sake of proving that I'm still moving forward.

That's a very different definition of ambition. And it’s about ladders that go horizontal and sideways and around, rather than simply up.

My closet has been teaching me the same lesson

Oddly enough, I've been having a version of this conversation with my wardrobe.

I've been fortunate to lose some weight recently. For me, it wasn't one dramatic intervention. It was paying closer attention to what my body needed and, in many ways, getting back to nature.

As my body changed, I found myself cycling a lot of clothing out of my closet simply because it no longer worked for me.

At first, that creates an obvious problem: you need clothes that fit.

But I didn't want to refill the closet just because there was suddenly room in it.

I've become much more intentional about what comes back.

Do I love it? Is it well made? Does it actually work for my body and my life? Will I reach for it repeatedly?

I'd rather wait for the right thing.

And perhaps that's the distinction I've been trying to articulate.

Less isn't really the goal. Better is.

There are things I still want more of

This is where I part company with some of the conversations about simplifying life.

I don't think wanting enough means we stop wanting.

There are things I very much want more of.

Purpose, for one.

My relationship with corporate work is changing. I don't picture myself simply stopping one Friday and spending the following Monday wondering what to do with myself.

I want projects. I want business ventures that interest me. I want opportunities to use the skills I've spent decades developing, both to earn income and to give something back.

I want to volunteer in my community when I want to.

The Polished Reset is part of that.

It's an opportunity to build something for women who, like me, may be looking around in midlife and realizing that the life they want next doesn't necessarily resemble the one they spent decades building.

I also want more time with my friends, my family, and my husband.

More time in the garden and out in nature would be great, too.

More time to move my body. To exercise in ways that feel good and not driven by the clock.

More time for the things that make me feel well rather than simply productive.

For years, work was very good at taking whatever time I was willing to give it. And I was very good at giving it.

Midlife—and particularly the physical changes that have come with perimenopause and the transition toward menopause—has made that bargain much harder for me to ignore.

My health needs my attention too.

I'm learning that putting myself first sometimes isn't indulgent. It's maintenance. More than that, it’s necessary for my longevity.

Maybe enough is really about deciding

I'm beginning to think this stage of life isn't asking me to become less ambitious.

It's asking me to become more discerning.

What deserves my money?

What deserves space in my home?

What deserves a place in my closet?

What deserves my energy?

And perhaps most importantly, what deserves my time?

There will always be another rung on somebody's ladder. Another purchase. Another goal. Another way to measure ourselves against someone else.

I don't want to spend the next chapter of my life automatically reaching for all of them.

I want to choose.

Some days that may mean wanting more. Other days it may mean looking around at what I already have and realizing I don't need to add anything at all.

I'm not finished striving. I'm just getting much more particular about what is worth striving for.

At this point in my life, the equation has become surprisingly simple:

More fun. Less stress.

That sounds like enough to me.

Ashley
Founder, The Polished Reset