I Want a Big Career and a Small Life. Can I Have Both?

Dear Ani,

I’m 32, in high fashion, and honestly… I feel like I’m running a life that looks prettier in photos than it feels when I’m actually living it.

That double promotion I got last month?
Everyone acted like it was the second coming. People were shrieking, hugging me, telling me how “incredible” I am.
Meanwhile, I was standing there smiling like a mannequin, trying not to throw up.

Because I don’t feel incredible.
I feel overwhelmed.
And a little bit like someone mixed up my name with someone else’s, and nobody caught it.

Everything got bigger overnight — the workload, the pressure, the eyes on me — but somehow the support did not grow with it.
No mentor.
No guide.
No one saying, “Here’s how you don’t crash and burn.”
Just random people popping up with “You’re gonna crush it!!” like that fixes anything at 10 p.m. when I’m still working.

The confusing part is… I am ambitious. I like being good at what I do. I like growing. I like being trusted.
But I also really love my quiet, boring life.
I love my slow mornings.
I love eating dinner at home on actual plates.
I love weekends where nothing is urgent and nobody expects me to be sparkling or brilliant or “on.”

In fashion, though?
It feels like the minute your title upgrades, your personality is supposed to upgrade too.
Like suddenly you’re meant to be louder, shinier, everywhere.
I can barely keep up with myself — I don’t want to become some exaggerated version just because the role is big.

So now I’m sitting here, exhausted, trying to figure out if I’m asking for something impossible.
If wanting a big career and a small life is some kind of contradiction.

I’m scared I’m going to burn out.
I’m scared I’m going to let people down.
I’m scared that the life everyone claps for is not the life I actually want to be living.

I don’t want to lose myself in all this.

How do I do this without becoming someone I don’t even recognize?

Regards,
Unsure If I’m Built for This

Dear Unsure If I’m Built for This,

My dear, come sit down.
You’re asking questions most people don’t even ask until their therapist has them journaling under a weighted blanket. You’re already ahead.

Now, about that double promotion.

Promotions don’t fall from the sky like mangoes in rainy season. A whole committee of adults — some of whom probably don’t agree on anything — sat in a room, sipped overpriced lattes, looked at the org chart, and said, “Yep. Her.”

You’re over there acting like success accidentally got delivered to apartment 4B when you live in 4A.

No.
You earned this.
They just finally said it out loud.

But I know why you’re suspicious: because nobody prepared you. They promoted you and tossed you into the deep end like a Nollywood plot twist.

Let me tell you the secret nobody frames on a motivational poster:

A promotion is not a compliment.
It’s an invitation.
To stretch.
To grow.
To stop hiding in the safe corners where you already know all the answers.

Of course it feels like a trap. Growth always does at first.

Now — your big job/small life question.

This one?
This is where you’re a wise woman. You want ambition and peace. You want money and mornings where your brain isn’t in flames. You want a life that isn’t performing for strangers.

This is not confusion.
This is clarity trying to get your attention.

Fashion will lie to you. It will say you must be loud, visible, eternally polished, always “on.” Fashion loves drama — if it could speak, it would hiss,
“Darling, sleep is for the weak.”

Ignore it.

You don’t need to become louder.
You need to become firmer.
Boundaries, my love — not volume — are what scale with leadership.

Your job is public.
Your peace is private.
Don’t mix the two and call it success.

Your instinct is right: you don’t have support. You have confetti-throwers.
“You’ve got this!” is not mentorship.
It’s a greeting card.
Very cute. Very unhelpful.

Real leadership is not doing everything.
Real leadership is making sure everything gets done without sacrificing your spinal cord in the process.

If you try to be the whole department, you’ll be Googling “small houses in the Azores” by spring.

And let me name the fear you tip-toed around:

You’re not afraid of falling.
You’re afraid of disappearing.
Into the emails.
Into the meetings.
Into a version of yourself you don’t recognize.

But here’s the blessing you don’t see yet:
You already know what grounds you.
Quiet. Soft. Unbothered. Slow.
That part of you isn’t fragile — she’s the anchor. Keep her. She’s your compass in all this noise.

Now, advice — auntie style, no garnish:

1. Ask for a 90-day clarity meeting.
   Not “How can I impress you?”
   Ask: “What does success look like in the next three months?”
   Clarity protects your soul.
2. Ask for real support.
   Not cheerleaders. Builders.
   People whose job it is to help you succeed, not clap when you do.
3. Protect the small rituals.
   Your tea. Your morning. Your sanity walk. These are not luxuries; they are survival equipment.
4. Grow in layers.
   You’re not a microwave meal. You’re a slow-cook woman. Let the inside catch up to the title.

Finally — and hear me clearly:

Yes, you’re built for this.
But not for martyrdom.
Not for burnout chic.
Not for disappearing into a job like an unpaid extra.

You are built for a career that fits inside a life that still feels like yours — soft, steady, sacred.

You don’t have to choose between ambition and peace.
You simply have to lead like a woman who knows her worth.

With love,
Ani