Imagine pressing down on a slice of white bread. At first, it flattens completely under the weight of your hand, all the air gone, but if you stop pressing, slowly, little by little, it starts to rise again, edges lifting, air pockets expanding, not quite back to its original form but close enough to remind you of where it began.
This is where I am right now. In that process of rising back after months of being pressed down on without pause. The pressure just kept building, deadline after deadline, with that constant push to keep going.
It’s strange how long it can take to realize just how stretched you’ve been. At first, you convince yourself you’re managing, maybe even thriving on the momentum. Then the project ends, and suddenly it all hits you—the tight shoulders, the restless nights, the mind completely on overload.
It’s been almost a week since I finally hit the “pause” button. Day after day, I can feel myself slowly rising again—like a slice of bread trying to spring back. And yet, I can’t help wondering if it ever really returns to its original shape.
It probably depends on the ingredients, the process, the care that went into it. But maybe that’s not the point. Maybe hitting the “pause” button is to finally let ourselves feel all those feelings we’ve been hiding away behind our projects.