012 Permission to Pause: Rest without Guilt

Series: Your Wellness, Your Way: A Series on Emotional Freedom

Where Stillness Whispers Strength

A Reflection on Permission to Heal

The first blog in this series was Permission to Heal, where I wrote about something we rarely talk about: the need to allow ourselves to heal from the things inside us that keep us from living our fullest, most honest lives. Whether it’s the weight we carry on our bodies or the weight we carry in our hearts, healing begins with permission.

The first step in healing is recognizing that we’ve been hurt. Life isn’t easy. It can be cruel. People can be cruel. Whether it’s your family at home, your friends in the streets, or the kids you went to school with—we all carry wounds. And sometimes, those wounds get buried so deep we don’t even realize they’re still shaping how we live, how we love, and how we see ourselves.

Healing takes time. It takes courage to go inward and name the pain. It takes tenderness to say, “That wasn’t my fault.” Sometimes, memories resurface that we haven’t thought about in months, years, even decades. And the longer that pain stays buried, the deeper it settles into the fabric of our lives—quietly influencing everything.

When I gave myself permission to heal, I realized something else: I needed a pause. I needed time to sit with what was surfacing, to recognize what was hurting me and how it was showing up in my life. I had to learn to trust myself. I had to learn to listen.

Healing taught me to trust myself.

Pausing will teach me to listen.

The Emotional Weight of Constant Motion

But learning to listen meant confronting a hard truth: I didn’t know how to stop.

I’ve always been an independent woman. I don’t ask for help. I don’t rely on anyone else. I’ve never wanted to be a burden. That mindset has carried me far—but it’s also kept me in constant motion.

I’m always working, always moving, always doing. Even when there’s nothing urgent, I find something to fill the space. Take this blog, for example—it’s a lot of work. Writing each post, crafting a social media strategy, building a brand. And that’s on top of a full-time job, running a business, and helping my clients succeed in the food safety world.

The truth is, I enjoy being busy. I like feeling useful. I love helping people and watching them grow. I find joy in teaching the next generation about food safety. But when I’m not doing those things, I feel it—shame, guilt, that nagging voice that says I’m not doing enough. That I could be doing more.

I still don’t fully understand how a pause can help me. But I’m trying.

I used to think rest was a reward.

Now I know—it’s a requirement.

What Permission to Pause Really Means

Permission to pause isn’t about stepping away from purpose—it’s about stepping toward presence. It’s about showing up for myself when I need it most, instead of constantly prioritizing everyone else’s needs. It’s about honoring my physical, emotional, and spiritual needs with the same care I offer to others.

A body needs rest. That’s the bottom line. When we pause, we allow the body to do its sacred work—repairing, recovering, and rebuilding. Muscles grow stronger through rest. Growth hormones are released. Cells rejuvenate. Inflammation begins to ease. Rest isn’t weakness—it’s restoration.

The mind needs rest too. Pausing gives the brain space to consolidate memories, process emotions, and restore clarity. It’s in these quiet moments that creativity returns, problem-solving sharpens, and mental fog begins to lift. Alpha waves rise, and with them, a sense of peace.

And the spirit—perhaps most of all—needs rest. Stillness becomes a sanctuary for renewal, reflection, and deeper connection with God. Whether through prayer, meditation, time in nature, or uplifting music, rest becomes a spiritual practice. A way to quiet the noise and hear the whisper of truth.

Giving yourself permission to pause isn’t passive—it’s powerful. It’s the beginning of rest without guilt, where you honor your needs without apology and reclaim your energy with intention. It’s the path to your best-lived life.

The Spiritual Invitation of Stillness

But stillness isn’t just a break—it’s a beckoning. A sacred invitation to return to yourself and to God. It’s a moment in time where discernment replaces urgency, reflection replaces reaction, and divine timing is allowed to unfold. It’s the part of you that waits patiently for the answer, instead of rushing toward a decision that may not serve you well.

I often say, “Let me sleep on it,” when I’m faced with a big decision. That pause—simple as it seems—almost always leads me to clarity. It helps me ask better questions, make wiser choices, and recognize the path that’s truly meant for me.

In the silence of the pause, my voice becomes clearer. Instead of hearing everyone else’s opinions—what I should do, what I ought to be—the stillness helps me hear my own truth. And more importantly, it helps me trust it.

We often have the wisdom we need.

We just need the courage to believe it.

Stillness is where I remember who I am.

What I can do.

What I truly want.

My Turning Point

It wasn’t a dramatic moment—it was a quiet one. The kind that whispers instead of shouts.

At the time, I was working full-time at a company that ran production 24/7. I managed a department of five or six employees, covering all shifts. And when someone needed time off, I was the one who filled in.

That meant working first shift, second shift, and third shift—all in the same week. I didn’t know if I was coming or going. One day, I woke up at 6 p.m., thought it was 6 a.m., and drove to work. I didn’t even realize it was evening until I pulled into the parking lot.

That was my whisper. My body’s quiet cry for help. I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t resting. And honestly—I wasn’t even doing my job well anymore.

No one was winning. Not me. Not my team. Not the company. Something had to give.

So I made the choice to pause. I quit. I found a job that respected my time and didn’t require me to run myself into the ground. And you know what? My life didn’t fall apart. My career stayed on track. I was no longer living in a haze.

I learned to trust myself.

I didn’t lose momentum.

I found clarity.

A Gentle Invitation to Rest without Guilt

If any part of my story feels familiar, here’s a gentle invitation to pause—and listen to your own.

You don’t need a dramatic moment to justify rest. You don’t need permission from anyone else. You only need the quiet courage to ask yourself what you truly need.

If you’re not sure where to begin, here are a few questions to sit with. Let them whisper. Let them guide:

• What would change if you gave yourself permission to rest without guilt before you were exhausted?

• Where have you been pushing through when your spirit needed a pause?

• What does rest look like when it’s rooted in self-love, not guilt?

You don’t need perfect answers. You don’t need to answer today. Just let the questions settle. Let them speak.

Closing Reflection

Pausing isn’t a detour—it’s part of the path. It’s where healing deepens, clarity returns, and self-trust begins to bloom. If freedom is the goal—and for me, it is—then emotional freedom must include rest, silence, and softness. These are the practices I’m learning to embrace. Not perfectly, but with steady, intentional grace.

This is not the whole story.

You're allowed to pause.

You're allowed to listen.

You're allowed to rest without guilt.

You're allowed to heal in your own rhythm.