This summer I really took time off. Time to just sit on my porch. Time to read. My main goals looked very different from last summer’s breakneck pace—when I was busy decorating the cabin. I need to heal through rest and creativity.

This year, I gave myself permission to do less. I enforced a “do-nothing” policy. Now, my friends would probably laugh at that, because my version of nothing looks like a lot to them. But for me, it was a radical slowing down. And in that space of quiet, hard questions came up: Who am I? Do I have a future? Is there anything next for me? Do I matter?

That last one has been the secret question of my whole life. Growing up in a tumultuous home with a mother who couldn’t nurture her children, I didn’t realize I was asking it—but deep down I’ve always been searching for the answer. My way of coping was to strive and achieve, to prove my worth through accomplishment. In some ways, that drive has given me opportunities others haven’t had. But it has also left me mentally and emotionally exhausted.

So this summer, I set three gentle priorities:

1. Prioritize my health.
After nine years of perimenopause and now full menopause, my body has held on to weight no matter what I’ve tried. This summer, I focused on moving consistently: five workouts a week—three strength sessions plus two shorter ones—lots of walking, kayaking when I could, and simply being more active.

2. Paint more.
Most days I spent hours on my porch with a brush in hand. I continued weekly lessons with Kim Parker and even stretched myself into new territory with the shed mural. I put it off until late July because I wasn’t sure I could do it, but with encouragement from my mural coach Lori Siebert, I dove in. And I did it! That project reminded me how important it is to try, even when you’re scared.

3. Read more.
I sank into books, some I finished, some I didn’t. Some days I read from morning to night on the porch. It was deeply restful.

Through all of this, my nervous system finally had the break it had been craving. It felt like healing from the past 55 years. Anything that felt like pressure, I said no to. I needed to rest, to heal, to practice being both uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. That is the best way to describe how I felt this summer.

Now that I’ve been home for a week, I feel rested. Calm. Hopeful about the future. I know I’ll always be working on this: learning to find value just because I exist, not just because of what I do.

I realize this is very different from my usual posts, but I’m sharing because maybe you need the reminder too: sometimes we all need a change of pace and a change in priorities. You don’t have to go away to make it happen—you can choose rest and renewal right where you are.