For weeks, maybe even months, I stared at blank pages.
Not because I had nothing to say, but because everything inside me felt too loud to write down.
I used to believe that consistency was proof of strength. That showing up, no matter how tired or scattered I felt, was the only way to prove I cared. But lately, I’ve learned something softer, something truer:
Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is step away.
I didn’t disappear because I gave up.
I disappeared because I was overwhelmed.
Because the pressure to create, to explain, to be “on,” felt heavier than my ability to carry it.
And here’s the truth no one tells you loud enough:
It’s okay to go quiet.
It’s okay to protect your mental health.
It’s okay to say, “I can’t do this right now, and that doesn’t make me a failure.”
We live in a world that rewards visibility and hustle, where silence can feel like defeat. But sometimes silence is where the healing happens. It’s where the noise settles, and you get to hear yourself again.
During these past weeks, I’ve been resting, untangling my thoughts, choosing softness over speed. I didn’t write because I needed space to remember why I started in the first place, not to chase applause, but to connect. To feel. To breathe.
So if you’ve been feeling distant from your goals, your people, or even yourself…
If you’ve been tired, unmotivated, or simply trying to stay afloat…
This is your reminder that you don’t have to do it all.
You don’t have to explain your silence.
You’re allowed to protect your peace.
I’m coming back slowly. Gently.
And I’m not promising constant content or polished perfection.
I’m just promising honesty. And presence.
Even if that means showing up imperfectly.
Because even Carrie Bradshaw took breaks between columns.
And maybe, just maybe, so should we.
