I've been working since I was 12.
Not "chores and an allowance" working. Working. For someone else.
At 14 I was waitressing at a local restaurant under the table, because I was too young to legally be there. In high school I petitioned for early release at 1pm — I had all AP courses, I'd earned it, and I used that freedom to go work at Dunkin' Donuts on weekdays and waitress on weekends for more cash. On top of that... Sports. Musicals. Jazz band. Youth Group. You name it, I was in it.
I want you to notice what I did with the free time I fought for.
I filled it.
· · ·
I genuinely did not know what rest was. Even at such a young age. It's literally as if I came out of the womb instilled with the idea that I had to earn my worth by working... but that's another newsletter...
Here's how deep it went: when I had my emergency surgery — the one where I almost died — and the surgeon told me twelve weeks of recovery, my first question was how long until I can go back to work.
Not "am I okay." Not "what happened to me." How long until I can produce again.
Two weeks later I was walking on the treadmill. Three weeks later I was back gigging, making Nick carry every piece of equipment while I stood there feeling like absolute garbage. At one point I thought I was going to pass out while singing.
And I stayed.
Because I had to prove I could do it.
To who? Great question. Still working on that one.
· · ·
Then I left the fire department and started this business.
And I'm going to be frank with you: I'm pretty sure I walked out of one burnout and directly into another one.
I was so locked in on building programs to help you not burn out that I completely lost the plot on what it meant for me not to burn out.
Isn't that hilarious? We do it even in healing. Especially in healing. Same engine, prettier paint job. Always give 100%. Optimize the recovery. Perfect the nervous system regulation. Grind at not grinding.
And the internet will tell you it's your ADHD. That's just the type of person you are... an all or nothing and you can't change it. I'm sure there's a meme for it. There's always a meme for it.
Nah.
It's the unhealed self. Running on a set of societal rules that taught us our worth is measured in output — rules we absorbed so early we mistook them for personality. So we keep producing, no matter what our body is screaming at us. And the body is always screaming. We just got really, really good at calling it something else.
Ambition. Discipline. Drive.
Sometimes those things are real. And sometimes they're just fear wearing a nice outfit.
· · ·
So here's where I've landed.
If you've been following along the last few weeks, you've watched two threads keep showing up: take our time and simplicity.
They weren't a content strategy. They were a symptom. Of me... finally actually listening.
And they've made their way into everything — including how I work with people now.
Burn the Blueprint is still here, and I still believe in it 100%. The self-paced identity reset, the brainspotting sessions, the whole thing. It does exactly what it says it does — it gets underneath the blueprint you were handed and lets you put it down. The first week is free, so you can go feel it for yourself before you decide anything. Nothing to prove to me at the door.
But I've also opened up something new alongside it → me, walking with you. Not a curriculum. Not a finish line. This one's for when you're just done. Done being burned out. Done being tired in a way sleep doesn't touch. Done sacrificing pieces of yourself for a system that has never once given anything back, and isn't going to start now.
I'm not going to hand you a worksheet about it. I'm going to be right there next to you, giving you permission to live your own f*cking life.
Because you already work hard. You've been working hard since you were a kid. The problem was never effort. The problem is that we were told the life we're working for gets handed to us at the end — and I'd like you to have it now.
That's the deal we were sold, right? Grind now. Freedom later. Freedom at 65. Freedom when you've earned it.
I almost died at an age where "later" would have been a lie.
And we deserve to live our lives now. Not at the finish line. Not once the body is decrepit and already spent — sacrificed to a system that never once gave anything back. It took the good years and handed us a pension and a bad hip.
This is our life. Ours. Not our boss's, not our parents', not the version of us that some institution needed us to be. And there is nothing to prove. There never was. That was the con.
Honestly? In a society built on overproduction, the most rebellious thing you can do is learn how to rest.
Not optimize it. Not biohack it. Not stack it with cold plunges and a supplement protocol and a wearable that grades your sleep like a f*cking report card — because that's just the same machine with better marketing. I mean actually rest. The unimpressive kind. The kind nobody claps for.
That's the rebellion.
👉 Book a call here — let's figure out how we can work together.
👉 Grab the first week of Burn the Blueprint FREE.
· · ·
This Week's Practice: The Unearned Hour
This one is simple. It is not easy. And if it's easy for you, you're either doing it wrong or you're already free... so tell me your secret.
1. Find the proof. Ask yourself one question: What am I still trying to prove, and to who? Don't philosophize. First answer. Write it down. It's usually embarrassingly specific — a parent, a coach, a boss, a version of you at 14 who was told she was only valuable when she was useful.
2. Book the hour. Actually put it in the calendar. One hour. This week. Treat it like a shift you can't miss, because your nervous system only respects things that look like obligations right now. We'll work up to freedom.
3. Produce nothing. Nothing that generates output. No podcast in your ears that "counts as learning." No walk that's secretly cardio. No cleaning. No "resting productively." You are not allowed to come out of this hour with anything to show for it. That's the entire point.
4. Let it suck. Around minute eleven you're going to get itchy. Restless. A little angry, maybe. That's not boredom — that's your system detoxing from a lifetime of usefulness-as-safety. Name it out loud: "This is uncomfortable, and I'm not in danger." Breathe out longer than you breathe in. Stay.
5. Notice what came up for you. When the hour ends, note what showed up. Guilt? Grief? A to-do list you suddenly had to write down? That's your data. That's the thing running the show. You just met it without the noise on top.
6. Do it again next week. Once is an experiment. Repetition is a rewire.
🎧 This Week on the Hustle Rebels Podcast
🎙️ If You're New Here — Catch Up: This week didn't come out of nowhere. If you just landed in this inbox, two things are worth backing up for.
Last week I wrote about not being rushable → about living on my own clock instead of borrowing someone else's. That one was the crack in the wall. This week is what came pouring through it.
Watch on YouTube:
Listen Here: Don't Be Rushable: Someone Else's Emergency Is Not Yours | Nervous System Regulation
And over on Hustle Rebels, I sat down with the women behind Interval Paper to talk about their Good Enough Guide — and they reframed something I'd been getting wrong for years.
"Good enough" isn't lowering the bar. It's not settling, it's not slacking, it's not the participation trophy version of a life. It's learning to love yourself exactly as you are right now → and here's the part that got me → doing that doesn't drop the bar at all. It quietly raises it. Because it turns out... you build better things when you're not building them to earn your own approval.
Which is a hell of a thing to hear when you've spent thirty years proving.
Watch on Youtube:
🎧 Listen here: [You're Already Good Enough: Unlearning Never Enough Culture with Interval Paper]
New here? Or feeling nostalgic?
Want to read previous newsletters?
Check em out here: [Read Previous Editions of The Weekly Recharge]
Twelve-year-old me thought working was how you became someone.
I'm still unlearning her. Slowly. Simply. Taking my time.
You're allowed to do the same.
- Renae
Wayward Wellness Coaching
Hustle Rebels Podcast
