What Your "Main Page" Really Costs
Let me be direct: the "main page" of your life—your corporate title, the corner office, the relentless hustle you thought would equal success—has a hidden cost. I lived it. I was the partner who missed her twins’ first steps because of a merger deadline. I gained prestige, a six-figure salary, and the illusion of control. What I gave up? My sleep. My presence. My sanity. My children’s childhoods, rendered in pixelated Zoom calls during "urgent" meetings.
Here’s what no one tells you: the cost isn’t just time. It’s the erosion of your self. I learned this the hard way—after a year unable to get out of bed, staring at the ceiling while my therapist billed me $300 an hour for the privilege of feeling broken. The "main page" I curated was a glossy facade. Behind it? A hollowed-out version of myself, drowning in "shoulds" and "musts," while my real life scrolled past on mute.
Was it worth it? No. Not even close. The salary bump? Temporary. The title? Meaningless when you’re too exhausted to enjoy your own success. The real gain? It wasn’t the promotion—it was the moment I realized I’d been trading my life for a spreadsheet. I rebuilt from scratch: slow, messy, and fiercely intentional. I learned to say "no" to work that drained me. I learned to show up for my twins’ scraped knees, not just their milestones. Now, my "main page" is a quiet kitchen at 6 a.m., coffee in hand, watching them laugh over pancakes. It’s not the headline I once chased. It’s the content.
The trade-off was brutal, but the clarity is worth every ounce of pain. You don’t need a perfect main page. You need a life that fits. And that starts with knowing what you’re actually paying for.
— Tracy Carlson, drawing the line