Have you ever had your long-awaited time off, only to sit there unsure of what to do with yourself? That oddly unsettling feeling when nothing is pressing you?
This summer felt different for me. Our schedule was set so that my daughter spent 2 weeks at home with us and 1 week at camp, and this cycle repeated three times. Since I can organize my work flexibly, I worked almost around the clock during camp weeks to get ahead on my tasks. That left me with 3 full weeks this summer with no work-related duties.
We cleaned the house, checked off beach days, enjoyed concerts, events, and family time. Then suddenly, I found myself in a pause: no work, no chores, no urgent to-do list. Just me, fully present as I am.
The Silence That Initially Frightened Me
For as long as I can remember, I never allowed myself this much “nothing.” I always found something to do—whether it was starting a load of laundry or cooking a warm meal—without realizing I was just chasing extra tasks. But this feeling was different. I wasn’t just resting or relaxing for a few hours; it felt like life around me had paused.
Maybe it was the sudden quiet after so much work, but I often felt unmotivated, even burned out. It was like I’d left something behind but couldn’t yet see what was coming next. Was anything coming at all? I was floating in a limbo, with a chest-tightening sense of identity crisis. Perhaps my upcoming birthday weighed on me, but mostly, it was that the last 5 years had taken me in a different direction than I originally planned.
When Drifting Becomes a Path
Five years ago, I completed a training focused on plant-based and vegetarian lifestyles, planning to become a professional journalist in that field. Instead, I wrote a book that sparked an unexpected wave of opportunities. I started consulting, teaching at two schools, and received professional collaborations and job offers without even applying.
I stepped into what many would call a dream career—but one I never really desired. I drifted with the current, embraced opportunities, and grew in many ways. I especially came to love teaching and met wonderful people. Even the “must-do” tasks taught me something. But now, in this quiet space, a clear feeling emerged: it’s time to return to what I originally wanted.
A Resume and the Energy Behind It
I hadn’t updated my resume in 13 years, so one evening I sat down and created one. I didn’t rush writing or sending it—I figured I’d decide by summer’s end where I wanted to apply and how I could add value as a freelancer with my skills.
Three days later, my phone rang: a friend—who later gave permission—recommended me for a spot that perfectly matched my skills. Coincidence? Maybe. But it felt like the silence that once scared me gently nudged me back on track without me having to do much more than reflect.
The Fertile Ground of Doing Nothing
Since then, I see doing nothing differently. It’s not emptiness but a source—a ground where I can clearly hear what I truly want. Though we think silence is empty, it actually holds our purest wisdom. When we let go of constant busyness and the need to prove ourselves, what’s most alive inside us emerges.
Maybe that’s why my life drifted from my original plans: I was so caught up in momentum that I didn’t hear the whispers of silence. But now that I’ve paused, I can remember the direction I want to take.
I don’t know if this new collaboration will be the goal or just another stop along the way. But I do know this summer, the doing nothing, and the “storm in the silence” were exactly what I needed to get here. Maybe this whole story is a reminder: sometimes the biggest changes come not when we chase them, but when we simply make space for them.
