The Season for Pauses: Returning to What Matters
End-of-year reflection on writing, life seasons, slowing down in a fast world, and choosing depth, clarity, and intention as 2026 begins.
It’s been a month since I last wrote here.
If this was a productivity blog, I might start with an apology or a justification. Something about discipline, consistency, or falling behind.
Instead, I’ll start with the truth.
The last few weeks were full. Work travel across Asia, long days that spilled into evenings, family moments that mattered more than laptops… and somewhere in between, writing quietly stepped aside. Not because I stopped caring, but because writing, at least for me, doesn’t happen in the margins. It needs space. It needs stillness. It needs a mind that’s not already three conversations ahead.
And that space simply wasn’t there.
The Season for Pauses
One thing life teaches you, if you’re paying attention, is that everything moves in seasons or cycles. All women here can relate for sure.
There are seasons of acceleration, where decisions stack quickly and momentum carries you forward whether you’re ready or not. And then there are seasons of integration, where things slow down, settle, and make sense only in hindsight.
I’ve learned not to treat pauses as failures.
Stepping away from writing this past month wasn’t avoidance. It was a signal. A reminder that creativity isn’t something you squeeze in between meetings; it’s something you return to when your inner world has room again.
Now, with Christmas lights softening the evenings and a rare 10-day company shutdown, that room has finally reappeared.
And I realize something very important: I missed this.
Writing as a Way Home
I didn’t always think of myself as someone who writes.
I thought of writing as something you do when you have a point to prove, a strategy to outline, or an audience to convince. Lately, it’s become something else entirely.
A way to listen to myself.
A way to slow thoughts down enough to understand them.
A way to tell myself the truth, without needing to defend it.
Coming back to writing again this week feels less like restarting a habit and more like returning to a conversation I actually enjoy.
Drawing a Gentle Line Under 2025
As the year winds down, I’m not in the mood for grand summaries or dramatic lessons learned.
2025 was full. Transformative. Expansive in ways that only make sense once you’ve lived through them. Some goals exceeded expectations. Others evolved into something entirely different. A few quietly dissolved, and that, too, feels right.
If I had to describe the year in one word, it wouldn’t be success or growth. It would be stretch.
Stretching into new responsibilities and disciplines.
Stretching to see further and bring the meaning into a present moment.
Stretching my own edges - professionally, personally, emotionally.
And like any real stretching, it wasn’t always pleasant. Anyone who has tried to touch their toes after a certain age knows this feeling well. We all agree stretching is good for us. We just tend to avoid it precisely because it exposes how tight, resistant, and stuck we’ve quietly become.
Leadership works pretty much in the same way.
The discomfort isn’t a sign that something is wrong. It’s usually a sign that something is being lengthened, expanded, or loosened — muscles you didn’t realize you’d been guarding until they were asked to move.
Writing has become one of those stretches for me. And to my big surprise it has been recently recognized by the industry as I was named an IMERGEY Luminary 2025.
Looking Ahead to 2026
As I look toward 2026, I’m less interested in resolutions and more attentive to how I want my days to feel. Fewer rushed decisions, more time to think before committing. Less reacting to noise, and more deliberate choices about what truly deserves my attention.
While the world seems determined to move faster, I’m choosing to move with intention. To slow down even when acceleration is rewarded. To disconnect more often so I can hear myself think and feel without interruption.
I want fewer conversations, but deeper ones. Fewer inputs, but better signals. Less constant connection, and more moments where intuition has the space to speak before the calendar does.
I want to write more, not because it’s “on plan,” but because it keeps me honest. I want to protect time for thinking, moving, dancing, learning, and being fully present with the people I care about.
Ambition is still there. Stronger than ever. It’s just quieter now. More deliberate.
And perhaps that’s what maturity looks like.
As of Today
For now, I’m grateful for this pause between years. For the rare gift of unscheduled time. For the chance to sit with tea, thoughts, and a blank page and feel no rush to fill it perfectly.
If you’ve fallen off your own wagon lately, whatever that wagon happens to be, consider this your permission slip.
You’re not behind. You’re just in a different season.
I’m glad to be back here. Wishing you a joyful end of 2025, meaningful moments with the people you love, and a 2026 that unfolds with intention and clarity!
If this resonated, feel free to share it with someone who’s been quietly hard on themselves lately.
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