It’s been 99 days since I last posted

Although if I’m being completely honest, it’s also been surprisingly hard, because there’s been this unshakable feeling of guilt following me around.

It tells me I’m letting people down by not posting. That I’m letting myself down. And if I stay with that feeling for long enough, it opens up into something much deeper – a fear that I’m falling behind somehow, that I’m not living up to my potential, or that I’m failing.

I can’t help but wonder how many of us walk around carrying some version of this.

That constant sense that we’re not doing enough. Not achieving enough. Not becoming enough.

It becomes such a familiar soundtrack to life that we stop questioning it altogether and just assume it’s telling us the truth.

And honestly… I used to think that voice was a GOOD thing. It’s definitely helped my type-A personality stay focused over the years, and there’s no doubt it’s played a part in helping me achieve things.

But I’ve also started to see something else in it.

It has this tyrannical edge to it. It can become obsessive, endlessly demanding, and never really satisfied with where I am or what I’ve done. Every time I reach one goal, it quietly just moves the goalposts again.

When we think about self-criticism, we usually imagine the harsh inner voice – the one that says we’re incapable, that we’ll never amount to anything.

But there’s another voice that’s almost MORE deceptive than that.

Instead of telling you that you can’t achieve anything, it tells you that you’re capable of SO much more.

Sounds positive, right?

Except underneath it all, it’s still carrying the same message – that who you are, right now, isn’t enough.

That feels quite vulnerable to admit, but I also suspect it’s far more common than we realise.

And I think that’s part of what makes slowing down feel so uncomfortable sometimes.

Because when you take away the constant doing, performing, and proving, you’re left much more directly with yourself.

And if there’s even the tiniest niggling suspicion that who you are, as you are, isn’t quite enough… well, that space can feel VERY uncomfortable to sit in.

So of course we avoid it.

Sometimes by throwing ourselves back into achievement and productivity. Sometimes by turning towards distraction instead, like watching TV, scrolling social media, reaching for comfort food, or any of the myriad ways we try to numb or soothe ourselves.

And when you look closer, a lot of these patterns of guilt and striving don’t just appear out of nowhere.

They can come from parents and family, who carry their own hopes and expectations for us.

They can come from school, where praise so often feels tied to performance and grades.

They can come from work, where there’s always the constant pressure to be improving, progressing, climbing.

They can come from comparison – watching other people move through life and somehow assuming we’re behind.

And they can come from the wider culture we grow up in, where it often feels like hustle is celebrated above all else.

Is it really any wonder so many of us end up feeling like we’re constantly behind?!

Underneath all of it sits a very human fear of rejection, so we keep running. We keep trying to prove ourselves. We keep setting the bar a little higher, convinced that when we finally get there we’ll be able to relax.

The strange thing is, “there” never really arrives.

So over the past few months I’ve been trying to sit with all of this, just noticing.

And recognising that the part of me that’s always striving is probably just trying to protect me in the only way it knows how.

But maybe I needed to actually experience what it feels like to stop for a while.

Maybe I needed to see what’s still there when I’m not constantly doing.

Maybe I needed to test whether I actually believe the things I say – that my worth isn’t tied to productivity, that rest isn’t something I have to earn, and that slowing down isn’t failure.

During that time I’ve had some glorious lie-ins, meditated most mornings, rediscovered my voracious appetite for reading, cooked lots of amazing vegan food, and spent time camping in some beautiful parts of the UK.

None of it looks particularly impressive from the outside, but it reminded me what it feels like to just be alive without constantly measuring every moment against a yardstick.

I know that idea – of just accepting yourself as you are – can sound like it leads to complacency. I used to worry about that a lot.

There have definitely been moments where I’ve felt uncomfortable with the slowness, and the urge to jump back into “doing” hasn’t exactly gone away.

But something HAS shifted.

And perhaps the biggest surprise is this: I’ve started missing writing again. Not because I feel I should be writing… but because I actually want to.

And that difference is everything.

Because when we’re not constantly trying to prove ourselves, that’s when we’re finally free to create, work, and contribute from a place of joy rather than fear.

Sometimes we need seasons of doing, and sometimes we need seasons of stillness. And perhaps there’s a wisdom in allowing ourselves to move between them without guilt.