Sacred Wilt: Trusting the Pause Before the Bloom
I thought the moment I left my draining job, I’d bounce back with a fresh burst of energy.
I imagined I’d write every day, moving my body joyfully, overhauling all the parts of my life I had neglected. I thought I’d feel clear, inspired, and ready.
But that didn’t happen.
What happened instead was a sacred wilt.
I slowed down. Way down.
I cried more than I created.
I needed naps instead of workouts.
I gravitated toward warm foods, soft clothes, and long silences.
And for a while, I wondered if I’d lost my spark.
But what I’ve come to understand is this: I wasn’t failing. I was following a deeper rhythm that had been patiently waiting beneath all the noise.
We don’t talk enough about what happens after burnout.
About the awkward, uncomfortable in-between. The part where your soul is still tender and your body is still remembering how to feel safe.
Where inspiration hasn’t bloomed yet — but the urgency is gone, too.
This is the wilt.
The sacred one.
It’s the part of the cycle where old leaves fall, but new ones haven’t grown in yet, where the energy that once bloomed outward turns inward to rest, root, and restore.
Where your nervous system finally exhales — and in that stillness, healing begins.
It can be hard to trust that a pause isn’t a full stop in disguise.
But if you’re in a season of slowing down, I hope you know:
You’re not behind.
You’re in rhythm.
Your energy and passion will return just in time.
Until then, let yourself wilt.
Let it be sacred.
Let it be enough.
Journal Prompts for the Sacred Wilt
What does my body actually need right now — not what I wish it needed, or what I think it should need, but what it’s quietly asking for beneath the noise?
Let this be a gentle check-in, not a to-do list. Start with the body, not the brain.
When I trace the path that brought me here, what patterns of overgiving, proving, or pushing do I notice?
You don’t have to fix them today. Just name what you see with kindness. Awareness is enough.
If this sacred wilt is here to protect and prepare me, what might it be trying to show me how I want to move forward?
What do I want to leave behind? What kind of rhythm do I want to rebuild?
