There’s this funny thing that happens in midlife:
You can be good at your job, respected, trusted, and still have days where you sit at your desk thinking, “Am I even relevant anymore?”

It sneaks up on you in the quiet moments — the days when your inbox is slow, the meetings don’t need you, or the chaos you’re used to suddenly… isn’t there. And instead of enjoying the peace, your brain whispers, “Uh oh. Something’s wrong.”

But here’s what I’m learning:
Quiet doesn’t mean irrelevant. Quiet means stable.

For years, I equated being busy with being valuable. If I wasn’t juggling ten crises, answering every question, or being pulled into every conversation, I felt like I was disappearing. Like my worth was tied to how many fires I put out.

But that’s not relevance.
That’s adrenaline.

Relevance is quieter.
It’s steadier.
It’s built over time, not in the middle of chaos.

I’m starting to understand that I don’t lose my importance just because the day is slow. I don’t become invisible just because I’m not in the center of every conversation. I don’t need to reinvent my entire career every time I get bored.

Sometimes boredom is just… boredom.
Not a sign.
Not a warning.
Not a cosmic message that I need to burn my life down and start over.

Sometimes it’s simply a Tuesday.

And honestly? I have a great job. A stable job. A job that gives me room to breathe, think, and grow. A job that doesn’t require me to be in crisis mode to matter.

So I’m practicing something new:
Letting myself be relevant even when things are calm.

Letting myself matter even when I’m not busy.
Letting myself rest without assuming I’m falling behind.
Letting myself trust that I’m exactly where I need to be right now.

Because relevance isn’t something you chase.
It’s something you carry.

And even on the quiet days — especially on the quiet days — I’m learning that I still matter.