Stop Running and Sit With It

Something Warm:: Last Week 09/14

Mom, come sit.

I can be in the zone cleaning, preparing food, putting laundry away, but as soon as I hear those three words, my shoulders drop and my soul softens.

Those words remind me to slow down, to breathe, to sit with it.
To remember that I am no longer living in survival mode.

This year has been one of the most shattering years of my life,
yet in the cracks I’ve seen glimpses of beauty.
Glimpses of God’s love.
Redemption written across pages I didn’t think could hold it.

I didn’t realize how hard it would be to find peace in stillness.
To sit in the quiet without rushing to fill it.
To face my grief head-on instead of distracting myself with the noise of doing.

Last year was different.
Last year I detached without even knowing I was.
I ran on autopilot keeping the house in order, caring for my kids, working two jobs, all while seeing my therapist and fighting for something that was already slipping away. On the outside, I looked steady. On the inside, I was unraveling.
Detachment felt like the only safe place to be.

But now, as my boys ask me to sit,
they’re teaching me something I didn’t know I needed: presence.

Sit with the hurt.
Sit with the disappointment.
Sit with the truth that things were never what I thought they were.

Mom, I’ll help.

At thirty-four, as a single mother and artist working hard to provide for my kids and myself, I’m learning to lean into my community. To hold close to the ones who hold me. To not only sit with my feelings but to allow others to sit with me too.

Mom I’ll help.
Those three words remind me I don’t have to have it all together.
I don’t have to pick up every piece on my own.
I can release. I can rest.
I can trust that I’m carried too.

And when something breaks or falls apart, they remind me again with their gentle wisdom: “It’s okay, we can fix it later.”

That’s the heart of it, isn’t it? Healing doesn’t need to be rushed.
We don’t have to force things back into place before their time.
We can take it slow. We can let grace hold the pieces while we breathe.

Because even in the grief, even in the shattering, there can still be beauty.
Beauty in pausing.
Beauty in letting go.
Beauty in sitting still long enough to notice that what breaks us can also open us.

Maybe it’s time to stop running from the pain, and learn to sit with it.

“When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy.”
— Psalm 94:19

A Prayer for Us:

May this be a week we stop rushing to fix what feels broken.
May we give ourselves permission to sit with what aches,
to breathe in the quiet,
to let stillness do its holy work.

May we remember we are not alone in the shattering.
We are held.
We are loved.
We are allowed to take our time.

And when the weight feels heavy,
may we hear it again:

“Mom, come sit.”
“Mom, I’ll help.”
“It’s okay, we can fix it later.”

A reminder that we don’t have to hold it all together.
We can stop running.
We can sit, be carried, and let God meet us right here.

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mindful minute: a time to reflect and respond

Let’s take a moment to breathe deep and exhale together.
Inhale through the nose, and exhale with a deep sigh.

Listen:

Eloise - Left Side

Reflect: Journal Prompt of the Week (Feel free to share in Comments)
Write about a time you wanted to rush past your feelings instead of sitting with them. What shifted when you allowed yourself to pause and feel? Where in your life do you need to stop “picking up the pieces” and simply sit with what is?

Community, I invite you to finish the phrase on the comments.
Right now I am learning to sit with ___________ .

Remember:
You don’t have to pick up every broken piece right away.
There is beauty in sitting still, letting yourself feel, and trusting that healing takes time.

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Thank you for taking the time to explore cuídate, my sacred online space where I share writings filled with hope, truth, and healing. My life’s work is to inspire others to live with intention, love others, and lay our burdens down. If my work resonates with you or offers help, I would be grateful if you could share it with a friend or loved one in need.

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