Written by Frosty Rose

Las week I had a really great day. That night,  I laid my head on my pillow and reflected on the easy, relaxing day I experienced. It struck me how utterly stressed out I was during June for 14 years, and I breathed an even bigger sigh of relief.

On my wonderful day, my husband and I had a rare day off together with kids in summer camp. We took the opportunity to drive to an Amish furniture store about an hour away and get new deck furniture. I wore slouchy shorts and a tee-shirt, and went bare faced. I was not concerned with how put-together I looked. During the car ride, I did not feel the need to catch up with any customers, call anyone, or send 50 texts pleading for help with my goal. I sat and enjoyed my husband’s company, the scenery, and crocheted a bit.

When we got to the store, I roamed aimlessly through hand-carved wooden furniture and trinkets, flipped through cookbooks filled with recipes I have no intention of making, and purchased the chairs we wanted. Because this was a budgeted purchase and we have regular paychecks, I paid with a check, with no worry about where the money was coming from, when I would next get paid, or how much I would be making in July. I did not feel the need to harangue the nice Amish man into purchasing a gift for his wife who would neither appreciate nor use the overpriced lip balm I was hawking.

We stopped for lunch at a divey little diner where I did not feel the need to chat up the waitress. I was not distracted by the pinging of my phone nor by pushy phone calls from my director or nsd wanting me to stretch just a little bit more and help the team.

On the way home, I was not filled with dread or anxiety at the thoughts of my oversized, unrealistic goals to close out the seminar year. I was not worried about the time I was wasting with my husband that would be better spent with my customers or new recruits.

After dinner, I made a much-needed trip to Ulta, still in slouchy shorts and tee-shirt, still sans make up. I went with no shame, unconcerned that a prospect or customer might see me there consorting with the enemy. I picked up what I needed and did not feel the need to stalk anyone browsing for skin care in the Clinique aisle.

At the grocery store, I picked up shampoo and beer, totally unconcerned about anyone finding out that I occasionally imbibe. I did not feel the need to walk the aisles backward to maximize the number of “sharp women” I bumped into, to whom I could pay a sincere compliment, and, maybe, just maybe, if she was sharp enough and my compliment sincere enough, hopefully recruit her and pull an emerald star order before the end of the month.

When I got home, I did bedtime stories with the kids. If my phone pinged, I didn’t know it. It was in the other room, and the neighbors wanting to pin down details of our block party this weekend could wait. I wasn’t filled with dread that a customer was trying to order and would look for another consultant if I didn’t answer her immediately. My phone no longer takes priority over my kids.

After the kids were in bed, I answered the neighbors’ texts, did a very quick email check to see what I would be walking into at work this morning, and put my phone on the charger. Then I had a very relaxing evening with hubby, watching the sun set, the fireflies spark, and confirming that we had made the right decision about deck chairs while enjoying one of those beers.

At no point was I riddled with guilt, shame, anxiety or FOMO. I wasn’t dying inside knowing that I was a failure and it was all my fault. I wasn’t compulsively checking scoreboards to measure my worth. It was the perfect, peaceful summer day. And if you’re in the thick of a Mary Kay no-sex-no-supper June, all you have to do to achieve peace, balance, and freedom is step away from the interminable striving that is life in an MLM.