Ramona Crabtree-Falkner on How Learning to Soften Changed My Life

There was a time in my life when softening wasn’t even in my vocabulary.

If you had asked me then what mattered most, I would have told you: working hard, doing it right, being seen as capable, holding everything together—perfectly. I was a woman who prided herself on being the “go-to,” the one who could do it all. Hustle wasn’t just a season; it was a way of life.

And underneath it? A deep belief that I wasn’t enough unless I was achieving something. I couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t let go. If I wasn’t proving my worth—whether through work, service, or endless productivity—I felt I was failing.

There was no space for softness in that version of me. Softness felt like weakness. Rest felt like laziness. And so I pushed harder, striving for external validation in everything I did.

But here’s the truth: you can only run on empty for so long.

Years of operating this way led me to burnout—not once, but more than once. And eventually, my body intervened in a way I could no longer ignore.

After a major health event and surgery, I was forced to stop. For the first time in years, I physically could not “do.” No working, no fixing, no keeping up appearances—just stillness, day after day. I remember those first few weeks vividly. At first, I fought it. The urge to get up and “get back to it” was so strong.

But slowly, something began to shift. In the quiet, I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t known in years. I realized that life still moved forward even when I wasn’t controlling it. The world didn’t fall apart because I rested.

That experience cracked something open in me. I began to question: What if the way I’ve been living isn’t sustainable? What if it’s not even necessary?

Of course, the unraveling wasn’t overnight. It’s been a decade since that turning point, and still today, I consciously choose softness again and again. It is an ongoing practice—not a destination.

I started by making small changes. I became intentional with my schedule. I stopped glorifying busyness and began honoring open space in my days. I honored my body’s signals instead of overriding them. I redefined what “success” looked like—not by how many tasks I accomplished, but by how I felt at the end of the day.

Most importantly, I learned to offer myself grace. The voice of perfectionism still whispered at times, but I began to meet it with compassion instead of compliance. I reminded myself that rest and ease are not indulgences—they are necessities.

What surprised me most is what softening created: space for creativity, deeper connections, greater clarity, and, ironically, more true productivity. I accomplished more—not by doing more, but by aligning my actions with intention instead of force.

Perhaps even more profound was the change in how I felt. The joy returned. My health improved. I became more present in my life. I stopped chasing external validation and began cultivating inner fulfillment.

If I could share one thing with other women who are caught in the same cycle I once was, it would be this: softening is not giving up. It is not a failure. It is a reclamation.

We are not designed to live in constant hustle. Our bodies and souls need rhythms of rest and renewal. To soften is to honor those rhythms—to trust that we can be both strong and gentle, both capable and at ease.

Even now, I still catch myself in old patterns at times. The world around us continues to praise busyness and productivity at any cost. But I have learned that my well-being matters more. My peace matters more. And that by softening, I show up in life as my most authentic self.

For me, learning to soften changed everything. It gave me back my joy, my health, my creativity. And perhaps most importantly—it gave me back myself.