My Life as a Worker Bee

The other day, my daughter asked me a question that caught me off guard:  

“Would you be disappointed if I decided to just be a CNA?”

My immediate reaction was Heavens no, girl. I told her that if the work fit her needs, if she enjoyed it, and if it allowed her to live the life she wanted—then I would be genuinely happy for her. Still, the question lingered with me long after the conversation ended. Why did she feel the need to ask that? And why did it strike such a deep chord in me?  It forced me to reflect on something many of us—especially women—carry quietly: the belief that we must keep climbing the "ladder" in order to be relevant.

I remember my first job in the field. I was “just a therapist.” I loved the work. I loved my patients. I felt fulfilled in the day-to-day moments that mattered most. And yet, I constantly felt a pull to be more. I watched colleagues get promoted and felt left behind, like I hadn’t done enough—even though I was doing exactly what I was trained to do and doing it well.  So I went back to school. That was something I could control. I changed jobs. Again, I found myself shining as a counselor, deeply connected to the people I served. But once more, I felt that familiar itch: If only I could move up… if only I had a different title… then I would really make a difference.  

Eventually, the opportunity came. A new role. A big one. Director.  The title I had been waiting for.  I poured my heart and soul into that job. But anyone who truly knows me knows this: I belong on the front line. I need to be with people. My boss wanted me in the office—protocols, budgets, financials—but my heart was always with those who needed help. I stayed late. I worked long hours. I gave more than I had.  And it led to burnout. Many of you know how that chapter ended.  Looking back, one realization stands out with startling clarity:  No one ever asked me to climb the corporate ladder.  Not my parents. Not my husband. Not my children. They loved and supported me exactly as I was. That pressure—that relentless need to be “more”—came from me, shaped by cultural expectations I had absorbed without question.

At dinner with friends recently, one of them said something that stopped me in my tracks. She shared that she was ready to finish her career as a “worker bee.” And I felt that in my soul.  A worker bee is steady. Essential. Purposeful. Not flashy—but vital. The hive doesn’t function without her.  Since then, I’ve noticed a pattern among many women I talk to—patients, friends, women my age and younger. They’re unhappy at work not because they aren’t fulfilled, but because they believe their work isn’t enough. Somewhere along the way, we learned that contentment looks like complacency, and peace looks like failure.  But choosing to do your work well—without constantly chasing the next rung—isn’t giving up. It’s maturity. It’s choosing contribution over comparison.

I also can’t ignore the broader context. The American Dream has long been tied to productivity, advancement, and hustle. We work longer hours than many European countries, take less time off, and often wear exhaustion like a badge of honor. Meanwhile, Europeans tend to prioritize work-life balance, fewer hours, and actual rest.  A quick search reveals something sobering: the U.S. has the lowest life expectancy among large, wealthy nations—despite spending more on healthcare than any of them.  That doesn’t surprise me. I’ve felt the health consequences of that dream in my own body and spirit.

So, after a lot of hard lessons and honest reflection, I’ve reached a place of clarity. My worth is not my career. While I still need to work (hello, healthcare), I now get to choose how I work.  I no longer fight battles I can’t win.   When asked,

“How are things going?” my answer is often, “Fine.”  “Anything you need?”  “Nope.”

Some might interpret that as giving up. I see it differently. Most of the time, those questions aren’t asked with real intention for change. So instead of living in constant frustration, I’ve simplified my needs: give me two chairs in my office and a good computer for telehealth, and I can do therapy. The rest is bonus.

I often tell people I’m on the downward climb of this mountain called life. I’m not interested in living with constant angst anymore. This season is about alignment, sustainability, and peace.  This is my time to be the worker bee.  That’s not just acceptance — it’s liberation (remember my word for the year:  Freedom). I am choosing purpose over performance, balance over burnout, and authenticity over approval.  I challenge all of you to do the same.