I used to believe that slowing down meant I was falling behind.

If my calendar wasn’t full, I felt anxious. If I wasn’t producing something, I felt useless. I measured my worth by how much I could juggle — and the idea of resting felt like failure.

Until one day, my body told the truth my mouth wouldn’t.

I was sitting at my desk, halfway through another “just one more thing” kind of day. My to-do list was so long it looked like a dare. I was dizzy, drained, and still pushing. Because that’s what I thought strong women did — they kept going.

But peace kept whispering, “You’re not stuck. You’re just tired.”

So I tried something radical for me at the time — I stopped.
Not for a weekend getaway or a self-care day. I just stopped for a moment. I sat there, breathed, and let the world keep spinning without my input.

And you know what? Nothing fell apart.

That’s when I started to understand — slowing down isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom.
It’s how you hear yourself again. It’s how you notice God in the small things — the sunlight, the quiet, the way your spirit exhales when no one’s asking for anything.

Rest doesn’t mean you’ve lost your drive. It means you’ve learned how to refuel.
Because burnout doesn’t prove you’re committed — it just proves you forgot to breathe.

Now I build margin into my days on purpose.
Not because I have it all figured out, but because I’ve seen what constant rushing costs.

Slow isn’t stuck. It’s sustainable.
And sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is pause long enough to remember who you are without all the doing.