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If you looked back over the last five years of your life and I mean really took a deep dive would you be happy with how things went?
Would you see time spent in silence, without all the chaos and noise?
Would you see things you did just for yourself?
Would you see boundaries you once swore you’d honor… actually being honored?
Or would you see a life that got busy-fast?
Life happens. It always does.
The people we love slowly start expecting more instead of appreciating what’s already being given. We keep the peace. We say yes when we want to say no. We pour into others while quietly running ourselves dry.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:
you will not find peace, clarity, or answers in the noise.
You find them in the quiet moments when you reconnect with yourself, with God, the Universe, Source… whatever you call it. In the chaos, all we hear are problems. Demands. Everyone else’s needs.
When I looked back over the last five years of my own life, I saw a lot of turmoil.
Now don’t get me wrong there were good days. Days where I felt like I was winning. Days when I slowed down, let things go, surrendered instead of forcing. But I didn’t make those days a habit. I slipped right back into the noise because it was familiar. Comfortable.
And then I wondered why it felt like life swallowed me whole.
Comfort is sneaky like that.
It shows up as saying yes when we mean no.
As quieting ourselves for the sake of others.
As doing and giving because “that’s just what we do,” right?
Listen, if you feel overwhelmed, if you don’t know what you’re supposed to do next, if you feel deep down that you’re meant for more… you have to answer that call. Because if you don’t, the next five years will look exactly like the last five you just scrolled back through.
Change doesn’t come from big dramatic moments.
It starts in quiet mornings.
Peaceful evenings.
Five intentional minutes during the day where you stop, breathe, and return to yourself.
It starts in the silence.
In the surrender.
Not in the chaos.
Building new habits and replacing old ones takes courage. And consistency. And a willingness to say things like,
“Sorry, I can’t do that.”
“That doesn’t align with me.”
And yes… holding people accountable for their $hit and holding yourself accountable too.
It means not allowing others to expect more from you than they’re willing to give themselves. It means saying, “It’s my turn,” and actually meaning it.
Now I know some of you are reading this thinking, “Girl, that’s easier said than done.”
You’re not wrong.
But I did it.
It took discipline. And the decision to stop just surviving because there’s a huge difference between living and merely existing.
Society, family, friends, employers, churches, you name it, have taught women, directly and indirectly, to carry it all. Maybe it’s not said out loud anymore but look around.
Kids get sick...who’s expected to handle it?
House needs cleaning...who jumps in?
Dinner, homework, laundry, emotional support, directions to the ketchup shelf… all at once.
We do it. All of it. And we’re good at it.
But when did this become normal?
When did we agree to this?
We didn’t.
We did it a few times. It became habit.
Appreciation turned into expectation.
Instead of asking for help, we say, “I’ll just do it myself.”
Instead of sitting down with a book and a cup of tea, we do the laundry.
Instead of sitting under the stars for ten minutes and dreaming again, we do the dishes.
Instead of taking a bath, we convince ourselves something else needs to be done.
And so, we do that instead.
At one point, I asked myself a question one I didn’t like. And you probably won’t either. But nothing changes without honesty.
Here it is:
“Am I keeping myself busy, always saying yes, always pouring into others because if I actually sat with myself, I’d realize life is passing me by and I’m not truly happy?”
Sit with that for a minute.
Yeah.
That one hit me too.
Staying busy keeps us from looking at ourselves. From revisiting old dreams that got replaced with dirty dishes and full calendars. From asking who we used to be… and who we are now.
And listen I love being a wife. I love being a mother.
But you can be both and still be building a life for yourself.
Why do we wait until the kids are grown?
I did.
I say it like this:
“I went to sleep one night and woke up a wife and a mom.”
Then one day, “I went to sleep and woke up an empty nester.”
Suddenly it was just me. Empty rooms. A quiet I wasn’t prepared for.
If only someone had taught us that we could still be all the things and still be building a life for ourselves before those roles changed.
When I looked back over nearly two decades of my life, I noticed a pattern: I started many things, but I didn’t finish them. Not because I wasn’t capable but because I returned to what was comfortable. Out of habit, not design.
Sound familiar?
Maybe you decided to research business ideas. Or creative projects. Or ways to use skills you already have baking, crafting, organizing, managing a household like a CEO.
You were excited. Motivated. You gave it a few nights.
Then life happened.
A sick child. A struggling partner. Aging parents.
And guess who you put down?
You.
You told yourself, “It’s not the right time.”
“What was I thinking?”
“I don’t have the time.”
Instead of saying, “This season is hard, but I’ll come back to myself when I can.”
Days turn into weeks. Weeks into months. Years pass.
One disruption and we talk ourselves out of the care and attention we still need.
If you’ve read this far, you might be a little mad. At me. At yourself. Or both.
That’s okay.
I can call this out because I went first.
So, before part two of this little mini-series, I want to leave you with some homework.
Would you see time spent in silence, without all the chaos and noise?
Would you see things you did just for yourself?
Would you see boundaries you once swore you’d honor… actually being honored?
Or would you see a life that got busy-fast?
Life happens. It always does.
The people we love slowly start expecting more instead of appreciating what’s already being given. We keep the peace. We say yes when we want to say no. We pour into others while quietly running ourselves dry.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:
you will not find peace, clarity, or answers in the noise.
You find them in the quiet moments when you reconnect with yourself, with God, the Universe, Source… whatever you call it. In the chaos, all we hear are problems. Demands. Everyone else’s needs.
When I looked back over the last five years of my own life, I saw a lot of turmoil.
Now don’t get me wrong there were good days. Days where I felt like I was winning. Days when I slowed down, let things go, surrendered instead of forcing. But I didn’t make those days a habit. I slipped right back into the noise because it was familiar. Comfortable.
And then I wondered why it felt like life swallowed me whole.
Comfort is sneaky like that.
It shows up as saying yes when we mean no.
As quieting ourselves for the sake of others.
As doing and giving because “that’s just what we do,” right?
Listen, if you feel overwhelmed, if you don’t know what you’re supposed to do next, if you feel deep down that you’re meant for more… you have to answer that call. Because if you don’t, the next five years will look exactly like the last five you just scrolled back through.
Change doesn’t come from big dramatic moments.
It starts in quiet mornings.
Peaceful evenings.
Five intentional minutes during the day where you stop, breathe, and return to yourself.
It starts in the silence.
In the surrender.
Not in the chaos.
Building new habits and replacing old ones takes courage. And consistency. And a willingness to say things like,
“Sorry, I can’t do that.”
“That doesn’t align with me.”
And yes… holding people accountable for their $hit and holding yourself accountable too.
It means not allowing others to expect more from you than they’re willing to give themselves. It means saying, “It’s my turn,” and actually meaning it.
Now I know some of you are reading this thinking, “Girl, that’s easier said than done.”
You’re not wrong.
But I did it.
It took discipline. And the decision to stop just surviving because there’s a huge difference between living and merely existing.
Society, family, friends, employers, churches, you name it, have taught women, directly and indirectly, to carry it all. Maybe it’s not said out loud anymore but look around.
Kids get sick...who’s expected to handle it?
House needs cleaning...who jumps in?
Dinner, homework, laundry, emotional support, directions to the ketchup shelf… all at once.
We do it. All of it. And we’re good at it.
But when did this become normal?
When did we agree to this?
We didn’t.
We did it a few times. It became habit.
Appreciation turned into expectation.
Instead of asking for help, we say, “I’ll just do it myself.”
Instead of sitting down with a book and a cup of tea, we do the laundry.
Instead of sitting under the stars for ten minutes and dreaming again, we do the dishes.
Instead of taking a bath, we convince ourselves something else needs to be done.
And so, we do that instead.
At one point, I asked myself a question one I didn’t like. And you probably won’t either. But nothing changes without honesty.
Here it is:
“Am I keeping myself busy, always saying yes, always pouring into others because if I actually sat with myself, I’d realize life is passing me by and I’m not truly happy?”
Yeah.
That one hit me too.
Staying busy keeps us from looking at ourselves. From revisiting old dreams that got replaced with dirty dishes and full calendars. From asking who we used to be… and who we are now.
And listen I love being a wife. I love being a mother.
But you can be both and still be building a life for yourself.
Why do we wait until the kids are grown?
I did.
I say it like this:
“I went to sleep one night and woke up a wife and a mom.”
Then one day, “I went to sleep and woke up an empty nester.”
Suddenly it was just me. Empty rooms. A quiet I wasn’t prepared for.
If only someone had taught us that we could still be all the things and still be building a life for ourselves before those roles changed.
So, by now you’re probably wondering… how?
When I looked back over nearly two decades of my life, I noticed a pattern: I started many things, but I didn’t finish them. Not because I wasn’t capable but because I returned to what was comfortable. Out of habit, not design.
Sound familiar?
Maybe you decided to research business ideas. Or creative projects. Or ways to use skills you already have baking, crafting, organizing, managing a household like a CEO.
You were excited. Motivated. You gave it a few nights.
Then life happened.
A sick child. A struggling partner. Aging parents.
And guess who you put down?
You.
You told yourself, “It’s not the right time.”
“What was I thinking?”
“I don’t have the time.”
Instead of saying, “This season is hard, but I’ll come back to myself when I can.”
Days turn into weeks. Weeks into months. Years pass.
One disruption and we talk ourselves out of the care and attention we still need.
If you’ve read this far, you might be a little mad. At me. At yourself. Or both.
That’s okay.
I can call this out because I went first.
So, before part two of this little mini-series, I want to leave you with some homework.
Your Homework
1. Read this again. Slowly. Let the memories surface. Take what resonates, leave the rest.
2. Write down 10 goals.
4.Notice where you’re saying yes out of habit. Write those moments down.
5.Ask yourself one honest question each night: “Did I choose myself at least once today?”
That’s it. Simple. Not easy but simple.
We’ll talk about what comes next in part two.
For now, just sit with this.
You’re not behind.
You’re not broken.
You’re just being called back to yourself.
And this time… don’t ignore it.
1. Read this again. Slowly. Let the memories surface. Take what resonates, leave the rest.
2. Write down 10 goals.
- Five can be practical or external.
- Five must be about you. How you’ll carve out time to rest, dream, and reconnect.
4.Notice where you’re saying yes out of habit. Write those moments down.
5.Ask yourself one honest question each night: “Did I choose myself at least once today?”
That’s it. Simple. Not easy but simple.
We’ll talk about what comes next in part two.
For now, just sit with this.
You’re not behind.
You’re not broken.
You’re just being called back to yourself.
And this time… don’t ignore it.
This is the Quiet Rebellion.
No noise. No permission. Just truth.
No noise. No permission. Just truth.
