There is something about Hawaii that makes it difficult to hurry.
Maybe it is the sound of the ocean. Maybe it is the warm air. Maybe it is the fact that the sunsets refuse to be rushed—and somehow convince you that whatever you thought you needed to do can probably wait another 20 minutes.
Or maybe it was simply that I was there with Jeff, celebrating my 60th birthday, and for once I gave myself permission to be fully where I was.
Not posting. Not blogging. Not planning my next business idea. Not thinking about what I should be creating, improving, promoting, learning, or checking off a list.
I was simply….”There.”
And do you know what surprised me? I didn’t miss doing all the things.
Apparently, I Am Allowed to Just Be a Person
For the first week of my 60s, I stepped away from social media.
There wasn’t a big announcement or carefully designed digital detox plan. I didn’t set goals for what I would accomplish while I was unplugged—which, honestly, would have defeated the entire purpose. 😂
I just stopped.
I spent time with Jeff. I looked at the ocean. I noticed the light, the flowers, the food, the people, and the tiny moments that are so easy to miss when my mind is already three steps ahead of my body.
And instead of feeling guilty or anxious about everything I wasn’t doing, I felt relieved.
That part caught my attention.
Because I am someone who genuinely loves creating, learning, helping, sharing, and encouraging people. Those things are part of who I am.
But somewhere along the way, the things I enjoy can quietly become things I believe I should be doing.
More consistently.
More strategically.
More productively.
Because apparently even meaningful work can climb onto the spin cycle if we aren’t paying attention. Truth?
The World Kept Turning Without My Help
I know. Shocking.…the internet survived without my posts.
My blog did not pack a tiny suitcase and leave because I wasn’t writing. My business did not send an angry email asking where I had been. And the people I care about did not forget that I care about them.
Everything waited.
Meanwhile, I was laughing with my husband, celebrating 60 years of being alive, and remembering that my life is not something that happens in the leftover spaces around my work.
My life is the point.
That does not mean I no longer want to create, write, educate, or grow The Care & Glow Collective. I do. But Hawaii reminded me that I want those things to come from a life I am actually living and not from pressure to keep feeding an invisible machine that is always hungry for more.
More content. More followers. More productivity. More proof that we are doing enough. That machine never announces when we have finally arrived. It just hands us another list.
Doing Less Is Not the Same as Caring Less
This may be the lesson I am carrying home with me: Doing less does not mean I care less. Slowing down does not mean I have lost my ambition, passion, or purpose. Rest is not evidence that I am becoming lazy or falling behind. Sometimes slowing down is how we finally hear ourselves again.
For years, many of us have been needed by children, parents, partners, patients, coworkers, friends, and communities. We became very good at anticipating, organizing, carrying, fixing, and keeping things moving.
Those are beautiful strengths.
But after enough years of living that way, doing can start to feel safer than being.
Being still leaves room for questions such as:
What do I actually want now? What still feels meaningful? What am I doing because I love it, and what am I doing because I am afraid to stop?
Hawaii gave me enough quiet to begin hearing my own answers. Not all of them, mind you. I turned 60, not omniscient. But I heard enough to know that I want more room in my life.
More room to write because something matters to me. More room to learn without immediately turning the lesson into a business strategy. More room to care for people without making every connection productive. More room to be with Jeff, our family, our dogs, and myself. More room to notice my own life while I am living it.
Bringing a Little Hawaii Home
Of course, slowing down feels easier when there is an ocean outside your window, and someone else is making the bed.
Coming home is where the practice begins.
There are responsibilities here. There are routines, laundry, appointments, websites, emails, and three dogs who remain deeply unimpressed by my personal transformation.
But I do not want the lesson to disappear simply because the vacation ended. I want to pause before automatically filling every open space.
I want to ask whether something truly needs to be done—or whether I am doing it because constant motion has become a habit.
I want to let my blog become a place where I write from my life, rather than something I must constantly produce for.
I want to give myself permission to be consistent in a way that is sustainable, flexible, and human.
And I want to remember that a slower season is not an empty season. There may be growth happening beneath the surface that cannot be measured by a checklist, an algorithm, or a sales report.
Maybe You Need Permission, Too
If you have been feeling tired, unmotivated, or strangely resistant to something you normally enjoy, I see you.
It may not mean that you are failing. It may not mean that you need a better planner, a new strategy, or a pep talk about discipline.
You may simply need some room. Room to rest. Room to listen. Room to remember what feels like you.
You do not have to fly to Hawaii to begin, although I certainly will not discourage it. 😂
Maybe your version is sitting outside without your phone, taking a walk without turning it into exercise, drinking your coffee before it becomes cold, leaving one unnecessary thing undone, letting an ordinary moment be enough without photographing, sharing, optimizing, or explaining it.
At 60, I am beginning to understand that my life does not need to become bigger, faster, or more impressive to be meaningful. Maybe it simply needs to feel more like mine.
Hawaii didn’t give me a brand-new life plan. It gave me something quieter and perhaps more valuable:
Permission to stop pushing long enough to notice the life I already have. And that feels like a pretty beautiful way to begin a new decade.
You are exactly where you need to be. And perhaps you do not need to do more from here. Perhaps you simply need to be here.
A Gentle Question for You:
When was the last time you let yourself slow down without feeling as though you needed to earn it first?
I would love to hear what slowing down looks like in your season of life. And if you are still figuring that out, I hear you. Apparently, it takes a village to learn how to rest, too. ❤️
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