Michelle: Alright, Mark, I have a theory. The most dangerous advice we give ambitious people isn't 'follow your passion.' It's 'be responsible.' Because what if being hyper-responsible is the fastest way to wreck your own life? Mark: That's a provocative start, and it cuts right to the heart of the book we're discussing today: Present Over Perfect by Shauna Niequist. It’s this idea that the very things we think are our greatest strengths—our competence, our ability to get things done—can become the architects of our own burnout. Michelle: Exactly. And Niequist wrote this from a place of total collapse. She was a successful author, a speaker, living this seemingly perfect life, but she hit a wall. The book is basically her memo from the other side. Mark: It is. And it sold over a million copies because it tapped into this collective exhaustion, especially among women, in the mid-2010s. It became a kind of manual for escaping 'hustle culture' before that term was even everywhere. It’s a journey from a life of frantic, performative perfectionism to one of grounded, authentic presence. Michelle: A journey that, for her, started in a very specific, very un-glamorous place. Mark: A hotel room in Dallas, staring at the ceiling.

Mark: She describes this moment so vividly. She’s 36 years old, on another work trip, away from her two young sons, and she just has this crystal-clear thought. She says to herself, "If anyone else wants to live this life I’ve created for myself, they’re more than welcome to try. But I’m done. I need a new way to live." Michelle: Oh, I know that feeling. It’s that profound disconnect when your life looks great on the outside, but on the inside, you’re just… hollowed out. But what was she doing that was so destructive? On the surface, it sounds like success. She later diagnoses her core issues as gluttony and pride. What does she mean by that? It sounds so biblical, almost archaic. Mark: It does, but she defines them in a very modern way. The "gluttony" wasn't for food; it was for experience. The need to say yes to every trip, every opportunity, every coffee, to not miss out on anything. And the "pride" was this deep-seated need to be seen as competent, capable, and unflappable. To have it all together. Michelle: The ultimate responsible person. The one everyone can count on. Mark: Precisely. And she quotes the writer Richard Rohr, who says the skills that get you through the first half of your life are entirely unhelpful for the second. Her responsibility and drive built her career, but they were also dismantling her soul. Michelle: Okay, but this is where the book gets some pushback, and I think it's a really important point to raise. A lot of readers and critics have pointed out that her 'gluttony' for travel and experiences sounds like a problem of privilege. How does this idea of the 'hustle as an idol' apply to someone who isn't a successful author, but is just trying to pay the bills and can't afford to turn down a shift? Mark: That's a completely fair and necessary critique, and the book doesn't really engage with class or economic necessity. Niequist is writing from her specific context. But I think the core idea can be translated. The 'idol' isn't the specific activity—whether it's flying to a conference or picking up an extra shift. The idol is the underlying belief that your worth is directly proportional to your output. Michelle: So it’s the feeling that if you stop moving, you cease to have value. Mark: Exactly. It’s the belief that 'more'—more work, more money, more accomplishments—will eventually fill that inner void. She argues that it never does. It's a drug, and the hustle is the high. It gives you a rush, but the crash is exhaustion, resentment, and a deep disconnection from the people you love. Michelle: And that’s the breaking point. The moment you realize the drug isn't working anymore. Mark: That’s the Dallas hotel room. It’s the realization that the life you’ve built is no longer serving the person you are.

Michelle: So if the problem is this internal idol of 'more,' how do you even begin to tear that down? After that hotel room moment, her mentor sends her this incredibly blunt email that just says: 'Stop. Right now. Remake your life from the inside out.' What does that actually mean in practice? It sounds huge and terrifying. Mark: It is huge. And her journey out isn't about finding a better planner or a new productivity app. She uses this beautiful phrase from Shakespeare: a 'sea-change.' A profound, fundamental transformation. And a huge part of that transformation is illustrated by a simple metaphor she learns: the idea of 'taking down chairs.' Michelle: Taking down chairs? What does that mean? Mark: She tells a story about a friend, a pastor of a fast-growing church, who was overwhelmed by the growth. An older, wiser pastor tells him, "You kept putting up more chairs." Every time more people came, they just added more chairs, assuming growth was the only option. The wise pastor’s point was, you have the authority to stop putting up chairs. You can decide the size of your own life. Michelle: Wow. That’s like a mass unsubscribing. Not just from emails, but from obligations, from identities, from other people's expectations. That sounds liberating but also incredibly scary. You’d have to let a lot of people down. Mark: And that is the absolute core of it. That’s the work. She realizes that to live a life of presence, you have to get comfortable with disappointing people. You simply cannot be all things to all people and also be a healthy, present human being. You have to choose who you’re going to disappoint: the stranger asking for a favor, or your own child who just wants you to play Legos. Michelle: She has that heartbreaking story where she asks her son Henry what he wants more of in the next year, expecting him to say 'more trips' or 'more adventures.' Mark: And he just says, "More this. More time all together like this. And at home." It's a gut punch. It reveals the gap between the life she was performing and the life her family actually needed from her. Michelle: This is the hardest part for so many people, especially women who are socialized to be people-pleasers. What's the first practical step? Is it just gritting your teeth and saying 'no' more often? Mark: The first step, she argues, is even more internal than that. It’s learning the difference between 'fake-resting' and 'real-resting.' Michelle: I think I am an expert in fake-resting. That’s when you’re not doing your main work, but you’re still being 'productive'—doing laundry, answering emails, organizing the pantry, all while telling yourself you’re taking a break. Mark: You’ve nailed it. She says she was 'real-tired' because she was only ever 'fake-resting.' Real rest is true stillness. It’s silence. It’s doing nothing 'on purpose.' And you can't get there until you start saying no, not just to others, but to that internal voice that says you always have to be doing something. Taking down the chairs in your life creates the space for that real rest to finally happen.

Michelle: So, when you boil it all down, the journey of Present Over Perfect isn't about finding a better life-hack or a new time-management system. It’s not about optimizing your life. Mark: No, in fact, it’s the opposite. It’s a rebellion against the very idea that your life is something to be optimized. It’s a rebellion against the belief that your worth is something you have to earn, every single day. Michelle: It’s a shift from proving to presence. Mark: Exactly. Niequist's big insight, which is so beautifully captured in that foreword by Brené Brown, is that choosing presence—choosing to be real and messy and sometimes tired—is what actually leads to connection. Perfection builds walls; it’s an armor that keeps people at a distance. Presence builds bridges. Michelle: And the cost of not doing this is what she felt in that hotel room—a life that looks great on paper but feels empty inside. It's a quiet crisis happening to millions of people who are ticking all the right boxes but losing themselves in the process. Mark: It really is. It leaves us with a really powerful question to reflect on: What 'chairs' have you put up in your own life that maybe it's time to take down? What obligations or expectations are you serving out of habit, not heart? Michelle: That’s a heavy question, but a necessary one. We'd genuinely love to hear your thoughts on this. What's one small way you're choosing 'present' over 'perfect' this week? Find us on our socials and let us know. It’s a conversation worth having. Mark: This is Aibrary, signing off.