Why I Took A Step Back ( & What I Found In The Quiet)

There’s a point on the path — usually after you’ve done the work, built the thing, held the people — when everything starts to feel... off.

Not broken.
Not wrong.
Just… heavy. Mismatched. Too full.

That’s where I found myself.

I had created something beautiful. I was holding space for women I adored. I was showing up — consistently, lovingly, responsibly. But underneath it all, I could feel something soft and insistent pulling at me:

Slow down.
Step back.
Listen.

At first, I ignored it. I told myself it was just a rough patch. I’d rest next week. Re-center after the launch. I just needed to tweak a few things and get through the season.

But the truth was, I was tired. Not just physically, but spiritually.
Tired of translating my soul into soundbites.
Tired of showing up when I needed to be held.
Tired of performing devotion instead of living inside it.

So I stepped back. Not with a dramatic exit or a 30-day sabbatical announcement. Just a quiet recalibration. A refusal to keep pushing.

And in that pause, I met myself again.

Not the version I had curated for the world. Not the one with the right words and the full calendar. The real one. The one who didn’t need to prove anything. The one who was still sacred even in stillness.

The quiet didn’t give me a business plan.
It gave me back my presence.

I stopped creating content for approval and started listening to what I needed to say.
I stopped mapping out launches and started mapping out how I wanted to feel.
I stopped asking, “What do they want from me?” and started asking, “What do I want to offer?”

And slowly, the pressure lifted. The clarity returned. And the work began to root again — deeper this time.

When women ask me how I’ve built a business that feels aligned, this is the part I share first:
You have to be willing to pause.
To question what no longer fits.
To let go of what’s working on the outside but draining you on the inside.

You don’t lose momentum when you step back — you reclaim integrity.
You don’t lose your audience — you find your voice.

Taking space wasn’t about stepping away from my work.
It was about stepping back into myself.

And from that place, I rebuilt everything.
Not to grow bigger — but to grow truer.

If you’re in a season of pause — or feel one approaching — I want to tell you this:
There is wisdom in the quiet.
There is power in your no.
There is nothing wrong with you for needing a break from the very thing you once prayed for.

That, too, is devotion.