nothing blooms year round
I realized I had been addicted.
Running an online company — one you don’t (and seemingly can’t) unplug from — will do that to you.
The fast pace of business was my autopilot. I fired on all cylinders, always. And I freaking loved it.
Owning and operating my travel company wasn’t just a source of dopamine. Looking back, it was the source of dopamine. My brain was obsessed with completing task after task, hour after hour, with little to no rest at all. The sense of accomplishment I felt on a daily basis was my personal drug of choice.
And then, after the dust settled and the sale of my company was complete, I felt this overwhelming void — almost like a lack of identity? Whatever it was, I hated it. And I wanted needed to feel the satisfaction of achievement again.
“So what’s next? I need something … anything to be next. And I need it now” was the basic thought process.
“Can I promise you something? You’ll get to use these gifts and talents again…” my therapist assured me.
Prior to deciding to sell my company, I started therapy. I’d been babysitting a real strong cocktail made of one half postpartum anxiety and the other half unresolved personal life trauma —generously garnished with the stress of leading a team of 15. Yum, right? And while this is totally not the point, therapy was just about the greatest thing I ever did for myself. If you’re looking for a sign to start therapy on your own, maybe this could be it? I 1000/10 recommend.
But back to the point:
“… you just might need to pause long enough to listen for what God has planned for you next. This season of life may need to be a season of small — a season of slow.”
Pause? Small? SLOW?!
The past several years had been anything but slow. I’d gotten married, moved across the country, started a business, moved back across the country, renovated a house, survived a pandemic, had a baby, and sold a company.
I wasn’t necessarily good at small or slow. Anyone else relate?
Naturally, I put up a good fight against this whole new concept of slow and small (also see: this website + online journal, an attempt at a weekly newsletter, and my travel advising courses). I fought it until — like my toddler fighting the nap I know she needs — I finally gave in.
Let me be real: in the beginning, slow and small felt like an out-of-body experience; a detox from the addiction. But then, I started to breath easier. To think clearly. To marinate in my new realization that nothing in nature blooms year round. And if true, then why do we as entrepreneurs (or creatives or moms or however you identify) think that we’re some kind of exception to the rule? Why do we try to live in a way that God never intended us to?
Personally, I believe there are times in life when hustling is required. But when the hustle or the grind becomes your only mode of operation - ever? That’s when you can find yourself in trouble (or, ya know, therapy).
And in continuation of this idea that nothing blooms year round, you should know that if you were to stay in a constant state of bloom, well — by nature, you would never be able to produce seeds to grow something new ever again.
If any of this is resonating, let me give you a gentle nudge: it could be your time to push life’s pause and go inward. To slow down for a bit. To make your life smaller and more simple for a season.
It very well could be the gift of needed time to rest. Time to produce new seeds. Time to plant them and allow them to grow slowly, deep in fresh soil. Time to bloom in an area you otherwise never would have had the margin for.
And by the way, you’re normal if this idea freaks you out a little (read: a lot). Believe me when I say that the old me would have been freaked out, too.
But hear me say confidently from the other side: pausing and slowing, small and simple… it turns out they aren’t so bad.
And, would you believe it? I’m no longer addicted.
A whole field of beauty has grown after my surrender to the slow. Like, for starters, I had another precious baby!
But possibly more relatable to the masses (or however many of you make it down this far): I’ve been kinder to myself than ever before. I’ve taken time to heal wounds in my life that were in desperate need of attention. I’ve had the type of conversations with loved ones that you put off for too long; the kinds that are both painful and life-breathing at the same time.
I’ve nourished my soul and journaled more and dreamed new dreams (more on those later, in their own time). I’ve read more books, less social media, and can hear myself think.
I redefined the word achievement — or rather, somehow both expanded on and simplified my personal definition of the word.
I’ve tried new recipes. I’ve laughed harder and taken longer walks and played with my kids endlessly.
The list could on and on...
But most importantly, I’ve gotten quiet enough to hear where God was leading next (by the way, did you hear we moved to Savannah?) and I’ve sat still enough to watch for the tiny details God has been working together for my good.
So if you need permission to come out of the bloom you’re withering in, or a sign to make the time to plant new seeds — this is it, my friend. You aren’t alone here.
Nothing blooms year-round, and neither should you.
1 Corinthians 3:6-7; I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow.
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