The Guilt of Slowing Down
Woke up this morning feeling… off. I didn’t want it to be Monday. I didn’t want my husband to leave for work. I felt lonely — which isn’t something I normally feel, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
John hated leaving me like that but encouraged me to invite my best friend over for a relaxing pool day. So I did. And it was nice… but for some reason, I couldn’t shake the guilt. I mean, I already had “relaxing pool days” on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Why should I get another one?
Part of me kept thinking I should be doing chores or something more productive — that I hadn’t “earned” this rest. But maybe the truth is, I didn’t need to earn it. Maybe what I needed was exactly what today was: soft company, sunshine, and space to just be. Even if I didn’t understand why.
Not every day needs to make sense. And not every moment of stillness needs to be justified.
John hated leaving me like that but encouraged me to invite my best friend over for a relaxing pool day. So I did. And it was nice… but for some reason, I couldn’t shake the guilt. I mean, I already had “relaxing pool days” on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Why should I get another one?
Part of me kept thinking I should be doing chores or something more productive — that I hadn’t “earned” this rest. But maybe the truth is, I didn’t need to earn it. Maybe what I needed was exactly what today was: soft company, sunshine, and space to just be. Even if I didn’t understand why.
Not every day needs to make sense. And not every moment of stillness needs to be justified.
