Stillness or Stagnation? Are You Resting or Stuck

There have been times when I’ve sat in a quiet room and wondered if I was giving myself time to breathe or letting myself get stuck.

From the outside, those two things can look exactly the same.

I’m sitting still.

I’m not checking anything off a list.

I’m not making some big announcement.

I’m not taking a huge step forward that anyone else can see.

I’m just sitting there.

Breathing.

Trying to calm my mind before one small worry turns into ten more.

When I start overthinking or feeling anxious, I try to slow myself down.

I take a breath.

I try to stay in the moment instead of letting my mind run off into everything that could go wrong.

Being still helps me.

But even while I’m trying to calm myself, another thought sometimes shows up.

Am I resting, or am I getting stuck?

That question matters to me because I know there’s a fine line between taking a pause and staying in the same place too long.

I never want to call something peace when it’s really fear.

I never want to tell myself I’m waiting until I feel ready when the truth is I’m scared to take the next step.

Fear doesn’t usually leave before we move forward.

Sometimes we move forward while fear is still sitting right there beside us, talking too much and making everything feel worse.

So, I’ve learned that I can’t always tell the difference between stillness and being stuck by looking at what my life looks like from the outside.

I have to pay attention to what’s happening inside me.

Sometimes my life looks quiet while a lot is changing in me.

A decision may be getting clearer.

A boundary may be getting stronger.

A truth I’ve been avoiding may finally be too loud to ignore.

I may still be living in the same place, dealing with the same problem, or carrying the same unanswered question.

But something in me may already be changing.

That matters.

There are times when the biggest changes in our lives happen quietly.

We start getting tired of things we used to excuse.

We start noticing how we feel after certain conversations.

We start admitting that we’re exhausted.

We start realizing that keeping the peace has often meant keeping our mouths shut while everyone else gets to say whatever they want.

Nothing may have changed yet.

But something has started.

That’s what stillness can look like.

Stillness isn’t always peaceful.

Sometimes sitting quietly makes feelings come up that I’ve been trying not to feel.

Sadness gets louder.

Anger stops hiding behind the words, “I’m fine.”

Tiredness turns out to be more than needing one good night of sleep.

Being still can show me what I’ve been trying not to look at.

Being stuck usually keeps me doing the same thing over and over.

That’s the difference I’ve had to learn.

When I’m stuck, I’m often living the same day inside myself even though the date keeps changing.

I’m going over the same decision.

Accepting the same behavior.

Making the same excuse.

Going back to the same routine even though I already know it leaves me feeling worse.

After a while, things can start to feel normal just because we’ve been doing them for so long.

That doesn’t mean they’re good for us.

It just means we got used to them.

Being stuck has a certain feeling to it.

It doesn’t feel like I’m getting myself together.

It feels like I’m losing touch with myself.

I’m not resting.

I’m checking out.

I’m avoiding the next honest talk I need to have with myself because I already know it may lead to a hard choice.

That’s when rest can start pretending to be something it isn’t.

I can sit on the couch one night and truly need the break.

I can sit on that same couch the next night and use a show, my phone, and a snack to keep from thinking about something I need to face.

The couch isn’t the problem.

The show isn’t the problem.

The snack has done nothing wrong.

The real question is why I’m sitting there.

Am I choosing to rest, or am I hiding?

That can be hard to admit.

Sometimes I say I need more time when I already know the answer.

Sometimes I say I’m waiting for the right moment when I’m really waiting for the fear to go away.

Sometimes I say I’m protecting my peace when I’m really afraid of what may happen if I speak up.

Stillness feels different.

Even when I’m sad, tired, or unsure, there’s still something alive in me.

I may not know what I’m going to do next, but I still care about what happens next.

I’m still listening to myself.

I’m still paying attention.

I’m still trying to find my way.

That’s the quiet difference.

Being stuck says, “Nothing is going to change.”

Stillness says, “I’m not ready to move yet, but something is changing in me.”

From the outside, two women may look exactly the same.

Both may be sitting quietly.

Both may have stopped rushing.

Both may look like they’re doing nothing.

But one may be resting and getting her strength back.

The other may be afraid to move.

No one else can always tell which one it is.

Sometimes we can’t even tell right away.

I think that’s why we judge ourselves so quickly.

We look around and see other women changing jobs, buying homes, starting relationships, ending relationships, starting businesses, traveling, and somehow remembering to drink enough water.

Meanwhile, some of us are trying to get through a normal Tuesday without crying in the car.

It’s easy to believe everyone else is moving forward while we’re standing still.

But not all progress can be seen.

Sometimes progress looks like no longer calling someone who keeps hurting us.

Sometimes it looks like sitting with an uncomfortable feeling instead of running back to what’s familiar.

Sometimes it looks like admitting we’re tired before our body has to shut us down.

Sometimes it looks like finally being honest that what we called patience was really fear of starting over.

No one may notice those changes.

There may be no big moment.

No applause.

No picture to post.

But those changes affect what we’re willing to accept from that point on.

That isn’t being stuck.

That’s moving forward on the inside.

Still, I have to be honest with myself.

A quiet season doesn’t automatically mean I’m growing.

Sometimes I’ve waited long after I already knew what needed to happen.

I kept hoping for another sign.

Another talk.

Another week.

Another burst of courage that would make everything easier.

It never came.

At some point, being still had already shown me the truth.

Staying there longer was my way of refusing to deal with it.

That’s the line I try to watch now.

Instead of asking myself, “Am I moving fast enough?”

I ask, “Is anything getting clearer?”

Do I feel more like myself, or less?

Am I getting my strength back, or losing more of it?

Am I resting so I can step back into my life, or am I using rest to avoid it?

I may not always like the answer.

But I need the truth more than I need a comfortable excuse.

Being still has taught me that I don’t have to rush just to prove I haven’t given up.

I’m allowed to breathe.

I’m allowed to think.

I’m allowed to take my time with a decision.

I’m allowed to wait until I understand what I feel.

But I’m also allowed to admit when the pause is no longer helping me.

There isn’t a set number of days that tells us when rest turns into being stuck.

There isn’t a clock counting down somewhere.

I think we know by the way the quiet feels.

Stillness may hurt, but it makes a little more room inside us.

Being stuck makes that room feel smaller.

Stillness brings us closer to the truth.

Being stuck keeps asking us to look away.

So, when my life looks quiet, I try not to panic.

I breathe.

I listen.

I let myself be where I am without telling myself I have to stay there forever.

Because sometimes nothing is changing on the outside while courage is growing quietly inside us.

And sometimes we begin moving forward long before anyone sees us take the first step.

#EvolvingWomanhood