The Permission to Be Still

There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from being in constant motion.

You’re either working hard at everything—pushing through meetings, projects, emails, obligations—or you’re hiding. Curled up with a book and tea, scrolling, binge-watching shows, making lists you never act on. You tell yourself you’re resting, but your mind never stops spinning.

For many of us navigating transitions—whether it’s a career shift, an empty nest, aging parents, retirement, or grief—the busyness becomes a way to avoid the discomfort of not knowing what comes next.

But here’s the truth: You can’t think your way into clarity while you’re still running.

When Rest Becomes Another Form of Avoidance

A few years ago, a friend recommended The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I bought it. And then it sat on my shelf for months.

I was deep in burnout at the time—working hard to support others through difficult workplace transitions while trying to hold myself together. I oscillated between two modes: hyperproductive stress response (doing everything, all the time) and complete overwhelm (hiding in my house with a book and tea).

Don’t get me wrong—I love a good book and a warm drink. But I wasn’t resting. I was procrastinating. I was using “relaxation” to avoid the things causing the stress in the first place.

Real rest would have required me to stop. To sit still long enough to notice what I was actually feeling. To acknowledge that something fundamental needed to change.

And I wasn’t ready for that yet.

The Spinning Never Stops

Even during downtime, my mind was racing.

I was busy—jumping from one emergency to the next, succeeding at most of it, but feeling like things were spiraling more and more out of control. I worried about unimportant things to distract myself from the things that were wrong, overwhelming, or out of my control.

I lived in constant stress—some self-inflicted, some imposed—for so long that I forgot how not to be stressed. Even when I tried to rest, I couldn’t shift down. My nervous system was stuck in high gear.

Psychologist Richard Louv describes this in Last Child in the Woods as a kind of restoration deficit. He was writing about children’s disconnection from nature, but the concept applies to adults too: we’ve become so overstimulated, so constantly engaged, that we’ve lost access to the kind of deep rest that actually restores us.

We’re not just tired. We’re depleted at a level rest can’t touch—because we’re not actually resting.

What Morning Pages Revealed

When I finally opened The Artist’s Way, I didn’t follow the program perfectly. I started and stopped. I skipped weeks. It took me much longer than the outlined timeline.

But when I did show up for morning pages—three pages of stream-of-consciousness writing first thing in the morning—something shifted.

Morning pages aren’t about producing good writing or solving problems. They’re about emptying your mind onto the page so you can hear yourself think.

And here’s what I started to notice:

Patterns. The same thoughts looping over and over—most of them rooted in fear or impossible expectations.
Unrealistic standards. I was holding myself to expectations that no one could meet, and blaming myself when I fell short.
Misaligned priorities. I wasn’t doing the things that mattered to me. I was doing the things I thought I should care about.

My character strength of prudence had taken over—out of self-preservation. I was prioritizing what looked “safe,” “reasonable,” and “responsible”: work, career, retirement planning, security, emergency preparedness.

But I wasn’t painting. Or drawing. Or getting outside. Or woodworking, baking, cooking, creating. I wasn’t spending meaningful time with the people I love.

I had a lot of interests—I’d never forgotten them. But I’d stopped making space for the things that make me feel alive and whole.

Because life isn’t just about the essentials. Even in the worst of times.

Transitions Force Us to Reassess

Whether you’re navigating a career change, an empty nest, aging parents, retirement, or loss—transitions have a way of stripping away the distractions and forcing you to confront what you’ve been avoiding.

Losing someone can make you realize you’ve been saying family is important while rarely spending time with them.

Changing jobs or retiring can spark self-doubt and questions about identity: If I’m not defined by this role, who am I? What do I actually value?

Mid-career professionals—especially those in their 40s, 50s, and beyond—are increasingly asking: Is this it? Am I just climbing a ladder I didn’t choose? What would it look like to live according to my values instead of others’ expectations?

Stillness is where those questions get answered.

Not in the busyness. Not in the distraction. In the quiet, uncomfortable space where you let yourself feel instead of fix.

The Practice: Modified Morning Pages

You don’t have to follow Julia Cameron’s program exactly. You don’t have to do it every day. You don’t have to make it perfect.

Here’s a simpler version:

Set a timer for 10 minutes.
Write whatever comes to mind. Don’t edit. Don’t censor. Don’t try to make it useful.

Let the spinning thoughts spill out onto the page.

You might write:

The same complaint five times
A list of everything you’re anxious about
A memory that surfaced for no reason
“I don’t know what to write” over and over

That’s fine. The point isn’t to produce insight. The point is to get the noise out of your head so you can hear what’s underneath.

What to Expect

It will feel silly sometimes. Do it anyway.

You’ll want to skip it on hard days. Those are the days you need it most.

You might not see progress immediately. I didn’t. But over weeks, patterns emerged. Clarity came.

It won’t solve your problems. But it will help you see them more clearly—and that’s where change begins.

The Resistance to Stillness

If you grew up being told that sitting still equals laziness, this will be uncomfortable.

If you’ve tied your worth to your productivity, slowing down will feel threatening.

If you’ve spent years optimizing yourself into exhaustion, permission to rest might feel like failure.

But here’s what I’ve learned:

Stillness isn’t lazy. It’s foundational.

You can’t reassess your values while running at full speed. You can’t set boundaries while saying yes to everything. You can’t recognize limiting beliefs while operating on autopilot.

Rest—real rest—is how you reconnect with who you are when you’re not trying to be everything to everyone.

What Stillness Makes Possible

When you stop spinning long enough to listen, you start to notice:

What you’ve been sacrificing that you don’t want to sacrifice anymore
Whose expectations you’ve been carrying that aren’t yours
What assumptions you’ve been making about what’s “realistic” or “responsible”
What you actually want—not what you think you should want

For me, morning pages helped me see that I didn’t need to be superwoman. I didn’t need to do 100 things at once. I didn’t need to please everyone.

I needed to paint. To get outside. To cook meals I actually enjoyed. To spend time with people I love.

And I needed to stop treating those things as optional.

Closing Thoughts

If you’re in the middle of a transition—professional, personal, or both—you don’t need more strategies. You don’t need a better plan.

You need permission to stop. To sit still. To let the noise settle.

Morning pages won’t fix everything. But they’ll give you space to hear yourself again.

And that’s where clarity begins.

Try This: 10-Minute Morning Pages

What you need:

A notebook or blank document (not your to-do list)
A timer
10 minutes of uninterrupted time

How to do it:

Set the timer for 10 minutes
Write whatever comes to mind—don’t edit, don’t judge, don’t stop
If you get stuck, write “I don’t know what to write” until something else comes
When the timer goes off, close the notebook and move on with your day

Don’t:

Reread what you wrote (at least not right away)
Share it with anyone
Try to make it “good” or “useful”

Do this for one week. Notice what shifts.

References:

Cameron, J. (2002). The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. TarcherPerigee.
Louv, R. (2008). Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder. Algonquin Books.
Seligman, M. E. P. (2002). Authentic Happiness: Using the New Positive Psychology to Realize Your Potential for Lasting Fulfillment. Free Press.

If you’re navigating a transition and need support finding clarity, I’d be honored to talk. Schedule a free discovery session and let’s explore what stillness and intention could look like for you.