Having kids changed the way I approach work. I apologize less and have hard stops that are nonnegotiable.

• In my 20s, I went to the hospital with stomach pain only for the doctors to tell me I was stressed.
• I worked late and on weekends and felt as if I couldn't operate any other way.
• Becoming a mom compelled me to change. I started practicing radical transparency about my needs.

In my 20s, I worked myself to a pulp. It got so bad that I actually ended up in the hospital with severe stomach pain, convinced I had an ulcer. I didn't. The doctors told me it was stress.

At the time, I brushed it off because I thought working yourself to the point of physical distress was just part of being a dedicated, ambitious employee.

I grew up thinking that you worked until you got your job done; there was no such thing as "not my problem" or "not in my job description." I worked late and on weekends without complaint, responded to emails at all hours, and took on extra projects without pushing back.

Then, I became a mom, and suddenly, I began suffocating under the weight of it all. My quiet acceptance of what it meant to be a good employee wasn't an option anymore.

I started loud living instead

The superpowers I thought were so inspiring to have, the ability to say yes to everything, weren't actually inspiring so much as depleting and unhealthy. With two small kids and the desire to have a fulfilling life outside work, I could no longer afford to let my job expand into every crevice of my existence, so I started doing something radical — or radical for me. I didn't just set boundaries. I got loud about them.

We hear a lot about "quiet quitting," which is often tied to slow disengagement from work because people feel overburdened and undervalued. But what if the answer isn't to withdraw but to recalibrate and move forward?

The philosophy behind what I call "loud living" is the opposite of quiet quitting. Instead of silently suffering under the weight of unreasonable expectations, especially self-imposed ones, we need to start speaking up, clearly and directly, about what we need.

As a new parent, I struggled with the fear that setting boundaries would make me seem less dedicated or, worse, less competent. For my entire career, I had equated saying "yes" to everything with being a high performer, a team player, and someone who could be counted on. But as I began implementing radical transparency about my needs and boundaries, I started to see how it also encouraged others to do the same.

I set clear work boundaries — and stuck to them

I no longer pretend to be available 24/7 because I'm not. And the reality is that few things are actually urgent. In my line of work, there's almost never a crisis that can't wait until the next business day. I lovingly refer to this as the "there are no livers on the floor" scenario — meaning unless you're a surgeon mid-transplant, that email, project, or Teams message might be able to wait. Most "emergencies" are pressure we put on ourselves to respond immediately, even when unnecessary.

My calendar reflects my reality. I block off time for school pickups and lunchtime drop-ins at the baby gym and don't take regular meetings outside my designated work hours. More importantly, I openly communicate these boundaries so no one is left guessing.

At first, I was terrified that my newfound boundary implementation would be met with resistance, frustration, or hostility. Would my coworkers think I was slacking off or that I wasn't as committed as I was before children?

Something surprising happened: My colleagues respected it. Not only that, but someone in another department told me she had always hesitated to shut down at 5:30 p.m. because no one else did. When she saw me doing it, and openly explaining why, she felt empowered to do the same.

I stopped apologizing

Parents, especially moms, are often expected to downplay or disengage with their caregiving responsibilities at work. I stopped doing that. Instead of saying, "I'm so sorry, I have to leave for nursery school pickup," I now say, "I have a hard stop at 5 p.m. because that's when my childcare ends." No apology, no guilt.

This shift reinforces the idea that family responsibilities are just as valid as work commitments, not just to my colleagues but to myself. And shocker: No one questions it. There might be some unstated frustration because meetings are challenging to schedule, but overall, everyone is pretty accepting.

I started applying loud living at home too

Loud living isn't just for work. It's for life. In addition to being open with my colleagues, I communicate more clearly with everyone in my life about what I need. Instead of just canceling plans, I tell friends when I'm feeling overwhelmed. And I'm clear with my partner about needing time for myself and other priorities. I remind myself daily that setting boundaries isn't selfish — it's essential for everyone.

By speaking up about my needs, I like to think I'm modeling something critical for my kids. I want them to grow up knowing they can set boundaries, advocate themselves, and create a life that works for them.

My journey to embracing loud living was prompted by parenthood, but this philosophy applies to everyone. Advocating yourself improves your work, your relationships, and your health.

Setting boundaries doesn't mean you care less. It means you care enough to protect what matters. When we start getting loud about that, the workplace — and the world — gets better.