The Return: What a Pause Taught Me About Rest, Clarity, and Creating Again
It’s been a lot going on.
This summer, I finally gave myself permission to just be. No overthinking content calendars, no chasing a new version of myself, no “what’s next?” Just presence. And honestly? It changed everything.
I moved back into the city after a breakup that somehow turned into us falling back in love (that story is gonna be a crazy one to tell one day). I saw Beyoncé and was revived. I spent real time with my sister the kind where you talk for hours and realize how much you’ve both grown. I threw a workshop for my company, quit my job, transitioned fully into a private practice, and somehow ended up with a waitlist.
I grieved. I healed. I traveled. I lost 20 pounds and reconnected with my body in a way I hadn’t before. I turned 30, a milestone that feels both grounding and freeing. I built a steady TikTok following, paid off some student loans and debt (and yes, probably accumulated a little more, because life has range). Chicago has been making me proud lately, and while this country still has me exhausted I’m finding joy, softness, and grounding in my corner of it.
The Silence Between Seasons
Somewhere in between all of that living, I went quiet.
Not because I ran out of things to say, but because I needed to live the things I wanted to talk about.
I needed to rest without proving I deserved it.
To stop producing and start listening to myself, my people, my spirit.
And in that quiet, I realized something: I get spooked when things get good.
When life starts aligning, when opportunities come, when people actually listen to me it scares me. I pull back. It’s like some part of me still braces for the fall, even when I’m standing in the middle of something beautiful.
I don’t know if you’ve ever felt that way when things start feeling too good, too safe, too stable, and your brain says, “this can’t last.”
But I get it. It’s scary to be heard. To be seen. To know your words, your work, your presence actually land.
And even though I understand where that fear comes from, I’m learning not to let it dictate how I show up anymore.
Learning to Water the Now
Right now, I’m in a spot where things feel like they’re getting really good. Not perfect but aligned. I’m rearranging relationships, paying attention to who and what makes me feel good, and letting go of what drains me.
I’m open to new opportunities, and I’m nurturing what’s already here friendships, work, love, and the version of myself that’s evolving quietly behind the scenes. More than ever, I’m living in the present.
One of my clients shared something recently that stuck with me she chooses a word every birthday to guide her year. And honestly, I think I’m borrowing that. I don’t have my word yet, but I know it’s rooted in presence. In watering what is.
I’m no longer chasing how good it could get. I’m focused on how beautiful it already is.
At this point in my life — at 30 — I’ve seen enough to know that things fall apart sometimes. And not every ending has to mean something bad.
Sometimes things fall so they can grow back sturdier, softer, more intentional.
I have no doubt it’ll be good one day. But for now, I’m tending to what I know, what I feel, and what’s right in front of me.
Coming Back, Differently
This isn’t the kind of return that’s about catching up it’s about realignment. I’m not here to chase algorithms or force vulnerability into a caption. I’m here to speak from the soil of what I’ve lived.
Because the truth is, consistency doesn’t always look like posting every week. Sometimes it’s showing up to your own life first. Sometimes it’s trusting that your voice still matters even when it’s been quiet.
So here I am rested, rearranged, and re-inspired.
Ready to create again.
Not from pressure, but from peace.
And if you’ve been in your own quiet season, I see you. Don’t rush out of it. The world will still be here when you come back and you might just return clearer, softer, and more you than before.
