When Simply Being is Enough
The world tells us to keep moving, to push through, to "stay positive"—but what if we gave ourselves permission to stop? To rest. To grieve. To simply be.
I’m sitting in my flowery chair, looking around my beautiful rented flat. By all accounts, I should feel proud, calm, and happy. And yet—anxiety creeps in. Instead of basking in contentment, I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop. When will this go wrong? How long before something falls apart?
I can’t help it.
It’s been only two months since I packed up my life and moved back to my home country after 12 years in the UK. I left behind a five-year relationship that felt stagnant, unfulfilling—a slow erosion of joy. People say it was brave, but really, it was the only choice I had. I couldn't see a future there, not even a year ahead, let alone a lifetime.
But I didn’t give myself the space to process any of it. The moment my bags were unpacked, I hit the ground running. No pause. No deep breath. Just a brief, half-hearted “Well done, you did it” before diving straight into the next thing.
And maybe that’s why today, it all feels like too much.
The Weight of Loss
Just months before my move, I lost my dad. I’m grieving for the first time in my life, and it’s a feeling I don’t know how to navigate. It hits in waves—sometimes a slow ache, sometimes a crushing weight. I catch myself thinking about him, reaching for the phone before remembering that I’ll never be able to hear his voice again. I miss him more than words can hold.
When I moved back, I thought I’d at least rebuild my relationship with my mum. But old patterns, old wounds, they don’t just disappear because we want them to. I tried. I really did. And once again, I was met with the same disappointment, the same hurt.
Now it feels like I’ve lost both parents. One physically gone, the other emotionally absent.
And the hardest part? I still wish it were different. I still wish I could call her up on a quiet Sunday, drop by for a cup of tea. But I know better now. I know the cost of opening myself up to the same pain over and over.
I say I’ve moved on, but the truth is, this loss lingers. It shapes my days in ways I can’t quite explain.
When the World Asks You to “Do,” But You Just Need to Be
Today, I feel empty. Tired. Unmotivated. I don’t have the energy to push through, to create, to show up. I had a YouTube video planned, but the thought of forcing myself in front of the camera feels unbearable. I don’t want to be seen like this—uninspired, exhausted, momentarily lost.
And yet, maybe this is the reminder I need.
Not every day has to be productive. Not every season is meant for action. Sometimes, healing happens in the stillness. In the not-doing. In the pausing long enough to feel everything we’ve been avoiding.
The world tells us to keep moving, to push through, to "stay positive"—but what if we gave ourselves permission to stop? To rest. To grieve. To simply be.
Because healing isn’t just about progress. It’s also about allowing yourself to sit in the messiness of the in-between. To acknowledge the exhaustion, the sadness, the numbness—without immediately trying to fix it.
If You’re Here Too…
If you’re feeling like this, know that you’re not alone.
It’s okay to take a break. It’s okay to not have answers. It’s okay to not feel inspired every single day.
And if you need a little support in navigating these moments, I created a Mindset Toolkit—a guide for when self-doubt, resistance, or overwhelm creeps in. It’s not about forcing yourself forward, but about giving yourself the space to find your way—on your terms.
Take care of yourself. The world can wait.