When Nothing Feels Urgent Anymore
This
is part of the “Staying with Yourself" series, a real-time reflection on
the quiet, in-between spaces of personal growth. You are showing up even on the
days when nothing feels urgent, and no one’s asking how you are doing. It’s
quieter now but it’s real.
There’s a different kind of quiet that creeps in after the chaos fades. It doesn’t always feel like peace at first, but it feels like losing your grip on momentum, like maybe you’re doing something wrong for not constantly being in motion.
You used to live in fight-or-flight.
Every morning was a rush. You’d wake up already behind, already trying to fix,
prove, rush, and hold everything together. That state of survival felt normal
because it lasted so long.
Your nervous system only understood
motion, always solving, and proving, fixing. Now, the pace has
changed. Your nervous system is slowly relearning safety. You don’t have to
chase or hustle just to exist. Your energy isn’t dictated by panic anymore.
This stillness feels strange. You sip
your coffee slower, fold laundry without urgency, and your heart doesn’t race
the moment you open your eyes. There’s space between your thoughts finally, no
alarms going off in your body for no reason, and even
though you’ve longed for this peace, it’s strange to finally sit in it. There’s
still a voice in the background asking if you’re doing enough, moving fast
enough, chasing anything at all, but deep down, you know what this is. You know
something finally settled.
You’re not in survival mode
anymore. You’re no longer burning through life trying to meet deadlines that
were never really yours. That hum in your chest, the one that told you to go
faster is growing quiet and in its place is something unfamiliar: calm that
doesn’t need to be earned, a slower rhythm that doesn’t come from burnout, and
rest that no longer feels like a threat.
This is emotional resilience in
its most grounded form. It’s not loud or flashy and it doesn’t need to be
explained or documented. It exists in the space between what used to feel like
emergencies. It’s the exhale your nervous system never got before a
recalibration and a return to something steady.
So let it feel weird and let the
quiet stretch beyond what feels comfortable. This is what healing can look like
when you’re no longer performing it. You’re not coasting and you’re not behind.
Finally you are here no longer measuring your worth by what’s urgent or how
many plates you’re spinning.
This season is still sacred even
without the rush.
If this landed with
you, share it with someone else moving through a quiet season or save it for
the next day the silence gets loud again. Either way, stay close. This is just
the beginning.
Comments
Post a Comment