Taking a Step Back Isn’t Giving Up—It’s Healing on Purpose

For a while now, I’ve been quiet. Not because I had nothing to say, but because I needed space to hear myself think. Life got loud mentally, emotionally, physically and instead of pushing through the noise like I always used to, I chose to pause. To rest. To reflect. I’ve learned that stepping back doesn’t mean you’re weak or giving up. It means you’re listening to what your mind and body need. It means you’re choosing healing over hustle, presence over performance. And that, to me, is what healing on purpose really looks like.

It was time for a rebrand.
Time to re-evaluate.
Time to give myself the grace to really sit with how I was feeling without pressure, without timelines, without announcing a hiatus or mapping out a polished comeback.

Because the truth is, it didn’t feel right anymore.
And I needed to figure out why.

I’d open my laptop, heart full of thoughts, and just freeze. I’d stare at the blank screen, feel the weight of all the things I wanted to say, and then quietly close it again. It wasn’t writer’s block, not really. It was fear.

One of the most honest things someone can say is: “I’m scared.”

That invisible wall I kept hitting? It wasn’t a sign of weakness, it was my body and mind trying to protect me from vulnerability. From the risk of being truly seen.

Writing your truth is terrifying, especially when it’s messy. Especially when you know it might be misunderstood, or judged. It pokes right at those people-pleasing wounds and that deep-rooted craving to be accepted, to be “enough.”

But here’s what I’ve realized:
That exact space—the “I’m scared, but I’m going to say it anyway” that’s where your real voice lives.
Not the curated, polished version.
The raw, unfiltered you. And that’s what connects.

And I am a pretty damn good writer. Why is that so hard to acknowledge for myself?

I once asked myself:
If I’m not willing to take a stance on the hard things, what business do I have writing about anything at all?
That question shook something loose.
Because my blog? It was never meant to be a comfort zone.
It was always meant to be a safe space.
And those are two very different things.

A safe space means it's okay to be uncomfortable. It means telling the truth, even when it’s unpopular. Even when your voice shakes.

Some days, that truth might come out as a sassy opinion post. Other days, it’s a quiet reflection on motherhood, trauma, or healing. Both versions are me. Both deserve space.

And speaking of truth, can we talk about mental health?

I wish more people understood that mental health isn’t just in your head.
It’s in your entire body.

For me, it’s been racing heartbeats. Sudden sweating. Nausea that makes food feel impossible. It’s bloating that makes me feel self-conscious, even when I know what’s really behind it.

Anxiety isn’t just “worry.”
It’s your chest tightening, your breath shortening, your muscles bracing for an impact that never comes. It’s feeling like you’re in danger, even when everything around you looks fine.
It’s exhausting to live in fight-or-flight mode.

Depression doesn’t just cloud your thoughts, it settles into your bones. It’s the kind of fatigue that makes brushing your teeth feel like a mountain climb. It’s heavy limbs, aching joints, and a brain that feels like it’s running through molasses. It’s the way food becomes complicated, and even sleep doesn’t bring rest.

And trauma?
Trauma lives in the body.
It shows up in chronic pain, in the startle when someone speaks too loudly, in the tension that never fully leaves your shoulders. It lives in the smells that take you back, in the silence that suddenly feels unsafe. And no, we can’t just “snap out of it.”

So when people say “it’s all in your head,” they’re missing the point.
Mental health is physical.
It’s real. It’s valid. And it deserves to be taken seriously.

If you’ve ever felt like your body is betraying you because of your mental health, please hear me:
You’re not making it up.
You’re not weak.
You’re just carrying too much for too long—and your body is speaking the only language it knows.

Healing doesn’t just happen in the mind. It happens when we learn to care for our whole selves.
And it takes work.

Which brings me to something I’m still working through:
Resentment.

Letting go of resentment has been one of the hardest things I’ve faced in my healing journey.
For years, I didn’t even realize I was carrying it. But it was there, this invisible weight that grew heavier every time I replayed a hurt or held onto a slight. It stole time. It stole peace. It stole moments that could have been joyful.

Resentment makes you think you’re protecting yourself. That holding onto it somehow balances the scales. But it doesn’t.
It just keeps you stuck.

Letting go of it?
That’s a daily decision.
Some days, I do it well. Other days, I slip back into old patterns. But I see it now. I recognize it. And that awareness is a kind of healing, too.

I’m not pretending the pain didn’t happen.
But I am choosing not to let it control me anymore.

So as I return to this space, this blog, this little corner of the internet; I’m doing so from a place of honesty.

No filters. No pretending.
Just real words, from a real person, still figuring it out.
And if you’re still figuring it out too, welcome.
You belong here.

And now, for the part I’m really excited about…

There’s a big, beautiful shift happening here at what I am now calling Healing On Purpose. I’ve realized that while sharing my own story has been incredibly healing, what moves me most is hearing yours.

So starting now, I’m opening the blog to feature your mental health stories. Whether it’s about anxiety, trauma, healing, motherhood, addiction, or anything in between - if it’s your truth, I want to help you tell it.

This space was never meant to be just about me, it’s about us. A community of people who are brave enough to speak the hard things, to be seen, to say “me too.”

If you’ve been carrying a story in your heart and you're ready (or even a little bit ready) to share it, I’d be honoured to hold space for you here. There’s power in storytelling, and I want to use this platform to amplify voices that need to be heard.

More details on how to submit your story will be posted soon, so keep an eye out.
Until then, thank you for still being here.
Thank you for believing in healing, even the messy, ups and downs kind.
Here’s to truth, connection, and the next chapter of this journey.