Permission to Pause: Why Sensitivity is Strength in a World That Won't Slow Down
A reflection on sensitivity, urgency culture, and the quiet strength of choosing rest. Explore how childhood messages shaped our inner critic – and why reclaiming your right to slow down is a radical act of self-trust and healing. You don't need to earn rest. You already deserve it.
A Morning Like This
I woke up to a rainy morning and can't tell if it's one of those days so common in Colorado, where the sun eventually bursts through the clouds and takes the afternoon shift – I hope not. Some days, I like to be with my melancholia, especially when the weather matches my mood. The misty gray offers the perfect cover, like a friend holding up a towel while you change. If the sun comes out, it will feel wrong, too revealing – exposing what's behind the towel. And then the world would know what I was up to, and I'd feel their glare intimating my sin of sloth. How dare I take refuge? How dare I be exempt from meeting the day's demands?
But what I need more than anything on days like this is to retreat inward – to move slowly, gently, and reflectively. It's a state of consciousness the world tends to frown upon. Slowness is often treated like a weakness. It would be a fool's errand to sit out of the race, lest we jeopardize our honorable badge of busy.
There's something deeply reassuring about the opaque air. It's giving me a privacy I didn't realize I needed, a permission to just be. The rain somehow makes it okay to move at my own pace, my tears of tenderness blending in with the weather. Gone is that subtle guilt that often creeps in when the sun is shining and productivity calls.
On days like this, the competing sun feels almost obnoxious. It seems to urge me to get moving or fall behind. But I'm learning to pause and ask: Whose voice is that, really? It was never the sun. It's the way I've internalized the critical parent, the taskmaster, the unrelenting expectations of a world that rarely pauses.
I'm learning how to unapologetically sit out of the race. To fully receive the wisdom of the rainfall, the thunderstorms, the dim-lit skies. To listen to my own voice while I can still hear its whisper – because my life depends on it.
The Voices We Inherit
Many of us grew up in homes where we heard things like:
Keep crying and I'll give you something to cry about
Children should be seen and not heard
Stop being so dramatic
And you think YOU have it bad?
You're too sensitive
These statements are evidence of unhealed shame passed down through generations – shame that teaches us to reject our emotional worlds, to push down our sensitivity, and to strive for an impossible standard of emotional control. When we meet our needs with criticism, rejection, or contempt, it often creates a vicious inner critic – a harsh voice that tries to motivate us through pressure or perfectionism.
As a trauma therapist who practices Janina Fisher's Trauma Informed Stabilization Treatment (TIST), I've seen this pattern in hundreds of clients – and I've come to know this part in myself, too. But healing doesn't come from silencing the critic. That part carries the pain. To reject it is to continue the legacy of shame. True healing means listening to that voice with curiosity, building a relationship with it – not to obey it, but to understand what it's trying to protect.
That's where the work begins: developing an inner, loving parent – one who knows how to identify the need behind the inner critic and the child inside who's still tender from all those years of being told they were too much.
The Cost of Never Slowing Down
When we continue to ignore that inner voice that whispers for more rest, begging us to slow down, we will feel the consequences. Whether it's physical illness, a mental breakdown, or a crisis of the spirit, it's not a matter of if we will reach our breaking point–it's when.
Research consistently shows that chronic stress plays a major role in autoimmune conditions, chronic illness, and inflammation. Studies have found that individuals with stress-related disorders are significantly more likely to develop autoimmune diseases. The mind and body are undoubtedly connected. When we pay attention to what our bodies need, we are honoring all that they do for us. Just like a vehicle needs regular maintenance, so do we. Pressing on the gas when our bodies are asking us to slow down is just cruel.
We don't want to wait until the end of our lives to take an inventory only to discover that we gave our minds to technology, our bodies to corporate demands, and our souls to the expectations of everyone around us. Both self-esteem and life satisfaction come from being in ongoing relationship with our values and authenticity.
But I Have Things to Do
I get it. The reality is that some of us are especially stretched thin due to circumstances beyond our control. One of the most contemporary struggles of our time is that of the millennial generation: drowning in student debt, raising kids, and caring for aging parents all while trying to manage careers, relationships, and wellbeing. During these seasons of life, we need to be especially creative about how we find time to tune in and listen. The alternative is to lose ourselves completely.
I might be getting some eyerolls at this point. Ok Chels, but where am I supposed to find the time? I'm talking about one deep breath, a 2-sentence journal entry, or 5 minutes of quiet reflection. Research shows that we tend to underestimate the power of consistency, writing off small practices entirely unless we achieve some arbitrary effective dose. Studies have found that small, consistent actions yield greater results than sporadic bursts of intense effort. The reality is that small, consistent moments of intentionality beat sporadic attempts at perfection.
Here's the secret: Our purpose in life is not to finish the endless to-do list, and we couldn't if we tried. Instead of all-or-nothing thinking, try keeping a list of interests, goals, or hobbies you may want to pursue when life isn't so demanding. It's like telling yourself, I hear you, you matter, and we will come back to this when it's time.
Questions That Comfort the Inner Taskmaster
When my own critical parent rears up – especially when I'm tired, overwhelmed, or burnt out – I try to pause and ask myself:
What would balance look like right now?
What do I need rather than what should I do?
What am I afraid will happen if I don't complete every task?
These questions help me step out of urgency and into a more grounded, nurturing rhythm – one that honors the truth of my body and my sensitivity. The answers tend to bring with them a sense of clarity, helping me take the next balanced step in my day.
Small Acts of Rebellion
Sometimes I still struggle with saying no and slowing down. After all, my inner taskmaster believes my worth is tied up in what I get done and how well I do it. But these days, I kindly ask the taskmaster to take a seat with the parts of myself that draw from a deeper knowledge of what really matters. It's like we all sit down to have a conversation where all parts get a say, and we make decisions together.
The way this looks is different for everyone, but here are some approaches that work for me:
Pauses: A deep breath – or a few – can shift everything and reconnect us to our present needs.
Review the calendar: I choose the non-negotiables, and on low-energy days, I let everything else become optional.
Mindfulness: Brewing tea and feeling the warm mug in my hands, cuddling with my dog, or meditating for a few minutes are ways I tap into the present moment.
Gentle movement: Yin yoga, mindful walks for reflection (not fitness), or foam rolling to release muscle tension.
Schedule restoration: Overwhelm is my body asking for care, so I make sure to schedule more time for self-care later in the week – sometimes a massage, time with a friend, or a Sunday with nothing planned.
Notice how most of these take under 5 minutes to complete. The hardest part is turning these small but powerful tools into daily habits. I suggest picking one to start with and setting a phone reminder. I love finding ways to make technology my tool, not my prison.
Living Intentionally in Small Moments
For those wanting more structured approaches to intentional living:
Daily: Start your morning with intention through reading, meditating, journaling, or choosing an affirmation. These consistent acts build up over time, reminding you what matters before daily distractions pull you away.
Weekly: Make your calendar work for you, not the other way around. Spend time at the beginning of each week taking personal responsibility for your time. If we aren't mindful about how we use our time, we risk spending it mindlessly.
Monthly: Pick one day each month to explore your area of focus. We can't prioritize everything at once. Sometimes the focus is health, other times relationships or career. Accept that you may not have time for everything, and that's okay.
Yearly: Use birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays as rituals for self-reflection. I love writing myself a letter on my birthday and reading it later to see how much I've grown and accomplished.
I've learned it helps to start small. Change takes time, and it's worth considering that trying to change too much at once leads to feeling overwhelmed and ultimately giving up. Finding one small step in the right direction is all it takes to move toward a more authentic life.
Rest as Revolution
When I live in a perpetual state of urgency, I strain my nervous system and experience those familiar highs and lows: push, push, push – crash. Rinse and repeat. This yo-yo method isn't sustainable and can lead to problems with mood, sleep, and physical health. I'm at the point where I refuse to join what feels like a race to inevitable burnout.
In Tuesdays with Morrie, Morrie says, “If the culture isn't working, don't buy it.” That wisdom is at the foundation of my work with clients. The artificial definitions of success, impossible standards of beauty, and glorification of charismatic extroversion don't serve most of us. When I encounter a social norm these days, I ask, Who is this serving? If it's not me or my community, I simply don't buy it.
I'm not saying it's easy. We're bombarded with emails, social media, and platforms literally engineered to hijack our attention. But I'll stick to my quiet revolution of releasing material obsessions, limiting beliefs, and false messaging that says I need to be anything other than what I am to be whole and worthy.
In this respect, sensitivity is undoubtedly a quiet strength – not despite the lack of appreciation for introverted or imaginative types, but because of it. To carry on being your sensitive self in a world that glorifies big personalities and constant productivity is itself a declaration of courage. We must find our worth from within, which as Pia Mellody reminds us, is the only place it can truly exist.
Your Turn: One Small Step
I'm curious – what's one small way you might give yourself permission to slow down this week? Maybe it's taking three deep breaths before checking your phone in the morning, or scheduling 10 minutes for tea without multitasking.
If this resonated with you, I'd love to hear about your own rainy day wisdom or the voices you're learning to quiet. Share your thoughts in the comments below – there's something powerful about knowing we're not alone in this gentle rebellion.
And if you're ready to explore deeper healing work around sensitivity and trauma, learn more about working with me here. Sometimes we need more than self-care – we need someone who understands the tender work of reclaiming our right to rest.
There Is Room for You
These days, I listen to the voice inside me that's asking for rest and reflection. I've lived long enough to know what happens when I don't. As Bessel van der Kolk says in The Body Keeps the Score – and I can attest to that.
But we don't have to wait until we burn out to make changes. We can begin now, with small acts of nourishment and care.
To my fellow highly sensitive people: I want you to know there is plenty of room for you in this world. There is no amount of sensitivity or need that is too much. You belong here.
In a culture that glorifies big personalities, fast living, and constant productivity, I'm here to remind you: there's a whole world of us walking the gentle path – with quiet strength, not in spite of our sensitivity, but because of it.
So when the world feels too fast, too loud, too much – may you find your rainy days. May you find your friendly cover of mist and quiet, and may you trust that your softness isn't a flaw. It's your way home.