slow burn

progress, one tiny flame at a time

Two seconds after hitting “send,” I’m glaring at my inbox like it owes me money. “I can’t move forward without an answer,” I whine as if the universe revolves around my schedule.

Immediate gratification? Never quite immediate enough. It’s always dangling just out of reach, taunting me with its promise of quick validation.

A book winks at me from the shelf, and suddenly I’m possessed by the spirit of a speed-reading demon.

My laundry takes so long that I consider time travel as a viable alternative to fabric softener.

And don’t get me started on waiting for colleagues’ responses — I swear I can feel my hair graying.

There I am, finger hovering over “publish” on Substack, salivating for that dopamine hit of hearts and notifications. Because nothing says “I exist!” like strangers clicking an itty-bitty digital organ for me, right?

Five minutes pass. Ten. An hour. “I’m an unappreciative asshole,” I think. I’m left staring at the screen, wondering why I’m running this race — faster, bigger, more. What am I, a tech startup’s mission statement?

Christ, what am I even doing…will I ever slow down?

Graphic from The Beau Studio. Quote by Rupi Kaur.

I’m my worst enemy.

Always chasing. Never arriving.

Each day feels like a marathon. And I hate running. My alarm blares like a starting gun, and I’m off — sprinting through tasks, hurdling obstacles, desperate to outpace...what? Fear of inadequacy? Time itself?

For years, I’ve mistaken frantic motion for progress, exhaustion for achievement. But as the goalposts shift, I’m left feeling like a fraud. Will I ever really taste victory?

Here’s the kicker: I have tasted victory. I’ve had real, tangible wins. So why the hell do I keep shoving them aside like they’re nothing? Why does my brain treat each triumph like a fluke, rather than proof of my capabilities?

Society doesn’t help. It feeds this frenzy, bombarding me with overnight success stories, ten-step shortcuts to greatness, and life hacks that promise a decade’s worth of growth in a weekend. It’s a cocktail of hope and bullshit, and I gulp it up. It’s intoxicating. It’s crushing.

It’s a lie.

And as I stare into these ridiculous mirages, I’m starting to wonder if I’m looking past the very things I seek.

Maybe the breathlessness I feel isn’t excitement, but a warning sign that I’m suffocating my potential.

Maybe my impatience isn’t my superpower but my kryptonite — the crack in my armor that lets doubt seep in (and holy hell, is my inner troll of self-doubt having a field day this week). It warps every pause into panic, every hiccup into catastrophe.

And in trying to outrun these feelings, I think I’ve forgotten how to be. How to exist in the present without constantly reaching for what’s next.

Perhaps it’s time to redefine the race. To see the journey not as a scramble to some distant finish, but as a collection of moments — messy, painful, growth-filled moments. Because maybe it’s never been about reaching some hazy, far-away destination. Maybe it’s about who I become in the process.

///

I’m struggling to embrace the slow burn. I’m struggling with patience. I’m struggling with perspective.

They say time is the fire in which we burn. Well, this slow burn feels more like a slow roast, and I’m not sure if I'm being refined or just slowly cooked.

But I’m trying. I’m trying to redefine what victory looks like. An hour of writing? That’s a win. Learning from a fall? That’s progress. Showing up when everything in me wants to quit? That’s an A+, even if it feels like an F.

We live in a world where “wealth” is painted in the broadest strokes — consumerism, fame, power. If you’re not the CEO, a Pulitzer winner, or using an Oscar as a doorstop, you’re invisible. We’re told to aim big and be blaring if we want to be remembered.

I’ve always known this framing is wrong. But I’m forgetful.

But recently, my thinking has shifted even more. What if simply existing is the summit, the finish line I crave? What if high noon is every day I wake up, nourished and free? What if every minute I spend engaged in this beautiful and terrible experiment of life is gold-medal-worthy?

Even when time feels like a nemesis.

I’m thinking back to something my Dad would say when I was in recovery from a decade-long eating disorder. You could’ve described my state as clinically alive but dead inside. Each day felt like a chore. So, every morning he’d call and say, “Just have a day.”

Simple but the message was loud: Don’t trail after some lofty ideal of success — just make it through.

Just keep going.

Back then, that was the summit. Maybe it still is.

Feats aren’t always grand, but the moments that make my heart flutter. It’s the quiet, unremarkable minutes that I’ll forget but always feel — Delilah clinging to her new stuffed duck, talking to my Mom at the end of the day.

It seems so clear, doesn’t it? The summit isn’t some distant achievement; it’s right here, in these nuggets of connection.

And if the summit is always, maybe I can free myself from the pressure to break through. I’m already here. This slow burn is success. It’s now.

And every immersive, loving day, is the peak.

I won’t be here forever. The summit may be always, but I’m not. And that’s the point — to remember that every second, every tiny gain, every fleeting moment is a win.

Some days I easily believe this. Some days I don’t. But move, I must. Because what’s the alternative? Fizzling out? So I push forward, inching towards whatever the future holds, trying to find peace in the maddening present.

It’s not easy. It’s not pretty. But the realness, the struggle, is where I flourish. Both in the grand and in the whispers, and even in the hardest days.

And as I type this, I hear my Mom’s voice singing softly, “Have patience, have patience, don’t be in such a hurry…”

I’ll try, Mom.

///

The slow burn isn’t absence of movement.

It’s deliberate, purposeful action.

It’s the river carving canyons.

It’s the unseen.

The magic flitting around.

A little here. A little there.

Steady.

Rarely all at once.

I can exhale.

I can be the slow burn.

Remember — When you click that ❤️, my heart explodes with joy ❤️‍🔥.