Click to listen

There’s something most of us don’t talk about when it comes to stillness:

It’s not always peaceful at first.

Especially when you’re used to moving.
Especially when your day is packed with things to do,
places to be,
and people who need you.

It’s weird or uncomfortable to sit down
and not immediately reach for your phone,
or open a tab,
or clean something,
or plan something,
or fix something.

You think being still will feel good.
Honestly, sometimes it doesn’t.
Sometimes your whole body fights it.
Because stillness can feel loud.

But it’s in that exact space where there’s nothing left to distract you that things start to shift.

You start to hear.

Stillness Isn’t Empty. It’s Just Been Quiet For A Long Time.

The truth is, when we stop… we notice.

We notice how tired we are.
We notice what hurts.
We notice the things we’ve been putting aside—little feelings, big thoughts, and things we never made time for.

That’s why it feels uncomfortable at first.

Because your nervous system’s used to running on high.
It’s used to little hits of dopamine.
It’s used to the next thing.

So sitting still isn’t just stopping your body
It’s retraining your brain.

And that can bring up stuff.

But that doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.
It just means you’re finally starting to listen.

The Body Has Been Talking. Stillness Is Just When We Finally Hear It.

There’s a question I love asking when I finally slow down:
“What do you need from me today?”

Not what your to-do list says.
Not what other people need.
Not what Instagram says is healing this week.

Just… you asking you.

What do you need?

Sometimes the answer is clear.
Sometimes it’s quiet.
But it’s always there.

And the more you ask, the more your body trusts you again.
You’re showing that you’re not going to bulldoze through everything.
You’re going to pause.
And actually listen.

That’s where the healing begins.

Stillness Doesn’t Mean Doing Nothing. It Means Doing Something That Matters.

Here’s the thing—
Stillness gets a bad rep because we think it’s lazy, unproductive, or passive.

But stillness isn’t passive.
It’s brave.

It’s you saying: I don’t need to prove anything right now.
It’s you saying: I trust that I can slow down without everything falling apart.
It’s you saying: I want to hear myself again.

Something powerful happens when you stop needing noise to feel okay.

You start hearing your voice again.
The real one.
The honest one.

And that voice?
It usually knows exactly what to do next.
But it won’t shout.
It will whisper.
And that whisper gets louder the longer you stay.

If You Want To Try This Today…

Pick a soft place to sit.
Set a timer for 10 minutes.
Turn everything off.

Close your eyes.
Breathe.

So, let your body settle.
You don’t have to figure anything out.
You don’t have to be “good” at this.
You’re just creating space.

And if anything comes up
a thought, a feeling, a truth
Please write it down.

Not to share.
Not to fix.
To witness.

Let your journal catch what your nervous system’s been holding.
Let the pause speak.

In Conclusion

Stillness isn’t weakness.
It’s wisdom.

And even though it might feel strange or even complex at first,
it’s in those quiet moments that the most honest parts of you rise to the surface.

You don’t have to run toward clarity.
You can sit still and let it come to you.

So today,
pause.
Breathe.
Ask.
Write.
And see what’s there.

Sending you so much stillness and beautiful revelations

Vee