InHerSight Blog

According to InHerSight data, 92.5% of women are searching for remote work, and of InHerSight’s must-haves, the ability to work from home is the top pick year after year. We don’t get sweeping stats like that unless we ask our audience something depressing, like “Have you ever worked in a toxic work environment?” or “Have you ever experienced a pay disparity?” It’s easy to conclude that remote work is the answer to every workplace challenge women face.

Life is short. It’s true, tomorrow is never promised. But, if we're lucky, life is actually long. The average life expectancy is 84 years. That's roughly 28,800 days, 692,000 hours, and more minutes than any of us could ever count one by one. It's a fascinating paradox: life is short and long, all at once. But I think what people really mean is that time is precious. Not because there's so little of it, but because it's so easy to spend without noticing.

Two years ago, during a solo trip to Portugal, I booked a spot on a group tour to the coast. A national park, wine country, castle ruins, and a beautiful seaside town were all listed on the booking. As were seven other people. Until everyone canceled. Every single person. Manuel, my guide, met me outside a shop in Lisbon the morning of the tour. He was apologetic but optimistic when he told me the news: “It’s just us today, and the tour company will refund you if you’d rather not have a private tour.

Support for working dads isn't one-size-fits-all. Sometimes it's a well-planned parental leave and a team that makes it easy to truly disconnect. Sometimes it's a manager who leads with compassion during a difficult life transition or the flexibility to be present for your family without putting your career on hold.

Last week, my best friend and I discovered that her baby (due any day now) wiggles when she plays my voice memos aloud. For years, we've memoed throughout the day as we've lived in different states, but neither of us ever considered that over the past nine months, her little girl might have been quietly familiarizing herself with me: my tone, my "good morning," my "happy Friday." The whole thing is one of the sweetest, funniest representations of modern friendship that I’ve ever encountered.

A message from us InHerSight Love what you're reading? From career growth to midday meditations, our email lineup delivers thoughtful insights, relatable data, and space to just be. Add InHerSight to your inbox today. (It's free!) Subscribe › Last week, when we polled our audience about whether their thoughts on parenthood or having children had changed over time, I already knew what the most popular answer would be: yes, significantly.

A message from us InHerSight Love what you're reading? From career growth to midday meditations, our email lineup delivers thoughtful insights, relatable data, and space to just be. Add InHerSight to your inbox today. (It's free!) Subscribe › Have you ever watched Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? In the late ‘90s, when the show first aired, it was one of my family’s go-tos—so familiar to me that even now I remember exactly how watching it felt in my body. The music, the lights, the clock, the tension.

Motherhood, like work, is often defined by what doesn’t make it into a calendar invite: the nightly dinners that anchor a family after a long day, the chaotic bedtime routines filled with laughter and negotiation, the quiet after-school conversations that reveal what really mattered. It’s found in stroller runs and shared workouts, in walks through nature, in weeknight check-ins where everyone gets a turn to be heard. These aren’t grand milestones—they’re the rhythms that steady everything else.

A few months ago, I found myself wondering: would I ever call myself an artist? In my elevator pitch, I usually say I’m “a creative”—a noun that sits between how society frames my work and how it actually feels to me. A mix of corporate-sanctioned legitimacy and the feeling of constantly exhaling iridescent carbon dioxide. But an artist? What would people say if I called myself that? Would they scoff? Would I have to defend it?

Doing things the hard way is a dying art. Online, you can find a “low-effort” hack for everything: low-effort recipes, workouts, skincare routines, outfits, hairstyles, hangouts. Society subtly encourages—and glamorizes—efficiency and time-saving hacks, framing effort as something to be eliminated rather than embraced. But effort is good. Trying is good. Slowing down to give things the time they deserve is necessary—for growth, meaning, sustainability.