Recently, two separate messages reminded me to slow down. I needed both.
Fall can bring a particular kind of urgency. Schedules fill, expectations rise, and the world around us seems to pick up speed. Without quite realizing it, we can begin to feel that we should be moving faster, too. Doing more. Making decisions. Becoming whoever we think we should already be.
In a message from Yung Pueblo, one line stayed with me:
“You need space to let the skillful you take a step forward.”
I love that idea. The thoughtful, intentional part of us needs room to participate. When we rush, it can be harder to notice whether we are choosing something that fits our lives now or responding from an old fear, hurt, or expectation.
I caught this in myself recently, feeling pressure to take a next step in my business. Before moving ahead, I paused long enough to ask: Do I actually want this right now?
What I noticed was how much I appreciate what is already here.
There may be a time for something different. But I do not need to turn that possibility into a present demand. For me, that is part of acceptance: allowing myself to be where I am and trusting that I can take another step when the time is right.
The second reminder came from the Trauma Specialists Training Institute, in a message about pacing as a compassionate part of trauma therapy. It brought me back to the importance of noticing when urgency rises and allowing enough space for someone to stay connected to themselves and the present moment.
I think about this with clients who are so ready to feel better. They want to understand themselves, change painful patterns, and do the hard work. That willingness matters. And sometimes, alongside it, comes another pressure: I should be further along. Why am I still struggling?
Even healing can become something we believe we are falling behind on.
We can want change deeply and still give ourselves time.
Sometimes the work is noticing the moment we begin to push past ourselves: our breathing becomes shallow, our thoughts race ahead, or every decision starts to feel as though it must be made today. We can pause there. Feel our feet on the floor. Look up. Ask what actually needs our attention now.
We can also look for what Deb Dana calls glimmers: small moments that spark a felt sense of safety, warmth, or connection in our bodies. A stranger’s kindness, sunlight through the trees, or a shared laugh might bring a softening in our shoulders, an easier breath, or a little warmth in our chest. Slowing down gives us a chance to notice that response and spend a moment with it, to let ourselves feel the goodness available to us.
Those moments belong in the picture, too.
A wider view can help us remember that today’s pressure is only one part of our lives. There is room for effort, uncertainty, appreciation, and things that are still unfolding.
In therapy, slowing down can create space to notice old patterns, listen for what is needed, and choose the next step with more steadiness and care.
So this is a reminder I am offering myself as much as anyone else: look up. Notice what is already here. Let your pace leave room for you to be present in your own life.
Give yourself space to slow down and let the skillful, intentional you take the next step.