No doubt—I cherish my right to vote, take pride in my work and pay equality and secretly chuckle at the bra-burning crusade. But with the feminist movement of the 60s and 70s, I feel like something got lost in the shuffle. In many ways, women’s lib made the modern woman’s life a lot more complicated. Throw family and economic pressures into the mix and we’ve built a recipe for depression, anxiety and a general about–face to the core fundamentals that make us whole.

Believe me, the drive to “super succeed” roped me in too. There was a time I thought I wanted that high-powered job. Health benefits, a 401K plan, and college funds for the kids all equated to family stability in my mind. I submitted numerous resumes, conducted presentations in front of advisory boards and was tantalized by sexy salaries and comprehensive compensation packages. I made it past first, second, and third-round interviews. I was hunted by industry recruiters and spent my downtime selling myself. It was a daunting task. Yet luckily, nothing ever fully panned out. I guess you could say my work-life-balance transparency outshined my professional drive.

You see—I get my Type A personality from my father. I love the feeling of achievement and taking the steps necessary to reach a goal. I’m a planner, a dreamer, and a motivator, always anticipating what’s around the next bend. But I also like to knit, cook, garden and wear dresses. I’m stuck between the juxtaposition of “Leaning In” and totally opting out.

My mother’s generation had it easier. Stay-at-home moms found complacency in hot dog casseroles and spent their days sipping drinks while congregating around the neighborhood swing set. I’m sure they liked their right to vote, too. And some even excelled at college coursework. But the “work-life balance” catchphrase just didn’t exist. Balance came intrinsically … sort of.

Plus—we turned out fine raised on hot dogs and mac-and-cheese; and we survived rolling around in the back of the Chevy Chevelle, sans car seats. Life for the then modern woman was a lot simpler and a lot less rushed.

Lately, I’ve found myself rushing—almost habitually. I rush to get the kids out the door in the morning, rush to squeeze in my lunchtime exercise routine, and rush to prepare dinner before complying to the strict bedtime schedule I’ve set. And all this rushing—for what?

Yesterday, I stumbled upon a Elsa Walsh’s throwback Washington Post opinion piece, “ Why women should embrace a ‘good enough’ life.” Walsh, now in her fifties, recounts her years as a journalist, mother and wife. She unveils that who she wanted to be in her twenties and thirties is not even close to who she is now. She questions Sheryl Sandberg, Facebook COO and author of Lean In, on her failure to ratify just how hard it is to have a demanding job and a fulfilling family life. Now, as Walsh longs for a work-life balance she never had, she challenges women to “… have full lives, not just one squeezed around a career.”

Sometimes I curse the women’s libbers for expanding our worlds outside of the kitchen and nursery (although I’d never admit that to my peers).  I now celebrate the fact that I never took that corporate job. You know—the one where, guilt-ridden, I’d need to take a personal day to attend a sick child.

And after years of rebuilding a path that has become my life’s work, I am happy pinching pennies in an effort to maintain my family’s lifestyle. I am finally okay with not overloading my plate, unplugging in an attempt to gain some “me” time, and playing hooky to enjoy a day in the woods. For me, straddling the edge of “leaning in” and opting out—getting my priorities straight, that is– came with maturity. Role No. 1 is mother and wife; everything else comes in a not-so-close second.

Don’t get me wrong. I take pride in my work. I enjoy producing copy that entertains and inspires. And I get a rush when my articles publish or when I’ve solved someone’s lifelong skincare issues with LimeLight by Alcone. But when given the choice, you’ll find me in the garden barefoot (pregnant? GOD NO!), digging for worms, with a summer spritzer in my hand and my children by my side.