Can I be honest with you about something weird? The moment things slow down, I fall apart. We need to learn Stillness
Not in a dramatic, movie-moment kind of way. More like… the chaos stops, the calendar clears, and suddenly my body starts sending me invoices for everything I pushed through. Anxiety through the roof. This low hum of dread that something bad must be coming. And honestly? Part of me just starts waiting to get busy again, because that feels safer than the quiet.
I know. It does not make sense. But if you have ever felt that way, just keep reading.
Choosing peace is hard, but it’s possible
The Question I Always Ask Myself First
The first thing that pops into my head when the stillness hits is: what is wrong with me?
And I have been sitting with that question long enough to finally have a better answer: nothing is wrong with me. My nervous system just never learned what safe and slow feels like. It learned fast. It learned to survive. It’s learned to keep moving, or something catches you.
When you are a wife, a mom, an entrepreneur, the person everyone needs something from, your body eventually stops treating rest as normal. It starts treating it as suspicious.
My Nervous System Did Not Sign Up for This Life (But Here We Are)
The past two years have been a lot for me. I have been working through some real things with my mental health, slowly and gently decreasing medication, and trying to be kind to my body in the process. And one of the hardest parts? Realizing that I built a whole life around staying busy because busy felt like control.
Not because I am lazy when things slow down. Not because I am broken. But because my nervous system had to adapt to a lot, quickly. And it did what it was supposed to do. It kept me going.
The problem is, it never got the memo that peace is allowed now.
The Last One I Turn To (And Why That Needs to Change)
Here is something I do not say out loud enough: I know God is there. I really do. But when anxiety spikes and my mind starts spiraling, He is often the last one I reach for. Not the first.
I go to distraction first. I go to the next task first. I go to the next booking, the next shoot, the next thing on the list. Anything that makes me feel like I am moving forward and therefore okay.
I am really trying to get better at that. Turning to Him before the spiral, not after. It is a slow practice. Some days I nail it. A lot of days I do not. But I am trying.
I Actually Believe I Will Get There
I am hopeful. Like genuinely, not-just-saying-it hopeful. I believe I am going to get to a place where stillness no longer feels like a warning sign. Where can I sit in a quiet room without immediately starting to scan for what I missed or what is about to go wrong?
Where can I just be?
It sounds simple. It is one of the hardest things I have ever tried to do.
But I am not giving up on it. And I am not giving up on myself. Even on the days when the anxiety shows up, the second things get quiet, and I have to talk myself down from the edge of my own nervous system. Even then.
If You Needed to Hear This Today
You are not broken because stillness makes you anxious. You are not weak because rest feels harder than hustle. You are someone whose body learned to survive, and now you are slowly, gently teaching it something new.
That takes time. Be gentle with yourself about that.
We are figuring it out. One quiet moment at a time.