It was time to take a break. For years, I have been running on auto-pilot, numb to everything around me, just running on empty gas. And for what? Well, I don't think I ever actually stopped to think it over, because everything else always felt more urgent. But what can be more urgent and important than doing what you love and being around loved ones? The commercial world has constantly thrust upon us the concept of hustling, a lot of which has nothing to do with our well-being, apart from the money, of course. Do we actually need everything that is popularly perceived as a necessity in the world we live in?
I think I am starting to crack, and if I don't take this as a sign, then there is something seriously wrong!! And this time, taking a break is not going to mean screen time. This time, I want it to mean good old hobbies - gardening, cooking, gossiping on the phone with my best friends, and the list can actually go on for a while!
Good one; all the beautiful gifts in the life comes unhurried. Often we need a break to acknowledge their presence. How subtle it would be to narrate the need of a break without actually writing about it. May be you find it in my response to the prompt. Do check out please. Have a good one
For most Covid was unbearable. For some isolation exaggerated pre-existing feelings of inadequacy. For others, the stress of change and uncertainty, amplified anxieties and fears. For me, however, it was a welcome break. At least initially…
As a teacher with roughly 11 years under my belt, I had just had the two most challenging years of my career. My students had many needs and I wanted desperately to meet as many of those needs as possible. I would arrive at school early in order to rework lessons to help maximize student engagement, then stay late to give kids a safe space after school, and in the in-between time I would act as a teacher, counselor, behavior specialist, and confidant to the young lives packed in my classroom throughout the day. I would then come home to my own two kids who were both under the age of six who needed my full attention. I was exhausted and was very nearing burnout.
Then in early 2018, my mother-in-law started to rapidly deteriorate from Alzheimer’s. On top of being everything for everyone at school and at home, I found myself helping my husband navigate the emotional roller coaster that is watching and caring for a loved one as they slowly slip away. We lost her in the spring of 2019 and after faithfully caring for his wife of 50+ years Andrew’s father suffered a heart attack the night before we were to start teaching the fall term. That school year was spent trying to play catch-up and clean up in every part of lives. We were drowning in a sea of emotional overload.
Needless to say, it was time for a break!
So, when the governor of Oregon issued the “stay at home” order on March 23, 2020, our household was finally able to stop and take our first collective breath in almost 2 years. Now I’m not claiming that the entire Covid lockdown was a positive experience for us because it certainly had its challenges, but we did fall into a slower rhythm that gave us the space we needed to heal and reset and for that, I am grateful.
The old clock on the wall of my living room strikes 9. I was submerged in the world of my own making for the better part of the pleasant winter afternoon. Reading between the lines on my laptop screen and occasionally focusing my attention on the 7-horses portrait in front of me, I looked like someone desperately searching for inspiration. After five writing sessions, the climax of my maiden mystery novel still eluded me. However, tonight on the Christmas Eve, I was hoping for my eureka moment. It was long past evening when the darkness completely swallowed the last trace of twilight. Suddenly, a gust of wind made me shiver and took my attention away from the monitor. Instinctively, I moved towards the attached terrace of my living room. The bright stars sparkled across the night sky. The whole atmosphere was filled with the festive spirit of Christmas carols. My mind drifted from the silent confrontations of my characters to the illuminated night sky. The constant buzz of the street caught my attention. A flash of the firecracker light struck the far end of horizon and in the moment, something shifted within me. The flurry of thoughts suddenly started to take shape. I moved towards my desk with a sparkle in my eyes. It was the time to complete the unfinished business.
The low, rhythmic hum of the ventilation system had long since stopped sounding like airflow and begun to sound like an engine running in an empty room. Outside the second-floor window, the afternoon light had flattened into that dull, grayish silver that usually signals either an approaching rainstorm or the invisible arrival of 5:00 PM. On the monitor, the cursor blinked with a steady, indifferent cadence—a small vertical line demanding a continuation that simply wasn't coming.
I pushed back from the desk, the cheap plastic casters of the office chair catching for a second on the frayed edge of the carpet floor mat before rolling free. The silence of the apartment felt heavy, almost solid, built up over six continuous hours of staring at spreadsheets, half-drafted emails, and open browser tabs whose purpose I could no longer recall.
Walking into the kitchen felt like stepping into a different time zone. The counter was cool under my hands as I leaned against it, waiting for the kettle to boil. There is a specific kind of mental fatigue that doesn't feel like tiredness in the muscles; it feels like over-saturation, as though every piece of information taken in throughout the day is sitting in a crowded queue at the back of the skull, waiting for a turn to be processed.
The kettle began its soft, escalating hiss. Through the small kitchen window that faced the inner courtyard, I watched a bird hop along the edge of a rain gutter, entirely unconcerned with deadlines, unread messages, or the vague sense of urgency that seems to govern human schedules. It flicked its tail, took flight, and disappeared over the brick roofline.
When the tea was steeped, I didn't take it back to the desk. That was the usual mistake—taking the break back to the place where the work lived, essentially drinking tea in front of a firing squad of pending tasks. Instead, I opened the back door and stepped out onto the small, fire-escape balcony.
The air outside was crisp, carrying the faint, metallic scent of damp asphalt and distant traffic. Down on the street, life moved at its normal, unhurried pace. An old sedan with a rusted muffler rattled past; a woman walking a stubborn Beagle paused at the corner while the dog investigated a fire hydrant with absolute, exhaustive focus. Watching them, the tight knot of artificial urgency between my shoulders began to loosen, just a fraction.
We build these strange, invisible walls around our days, convincing ourselves that if we just push through one more hour, clear one more inbox, or finish one more draft, we will finally earn the right to pause. But the work never actually ends; it just reshapes itself into new demands. The break isn't a reward for finishing; it's the fuel required to keep going without losing your mind in the process.
Breaks are really important for writing something creative and unique
Thanks for sharing and keep writing 💫
Just highlighting this part
We’ll be back in September with more nudges to keep you writing, as well as fresh articles, events and an exciting new offer for those looking to develop their writing skills who can’t come to our Zoom classes.
It was time to take a break. Time to step away from everything, to immerse yourself into the things long forgotten. Hobbies, recreation, enjoyment. The long stints of working day in and day out do nothing for the soul. The human inside of us needs more than food, clothes and shelter. The human experience isn’t to work tirelessly until collapsing from exhaustion to meet quotas and goals. It’s to enjoy the life we have, the world we experience. We are not designed to work ourselves to death in the pursuit of creating more wealth for those who have enough. Take a break. Take a good, long break. Not after many years of working to retire. Take a break now. While you’re young, while you have the health and mobility to experience the world around you. To engage with things that aren’t reserved for the wealthy or dreamers. Be a writer. Be an artist. Be a photographer. Be a hiker. Be an explorer. Be a child again. Take back what was robbed from you. You are not to be a cog in a machine. Millions of years evolving into the beings we are, capable of grasping the Milky Way galaxy in our minds and understanding the fantastical universe for which we exist as a speck in.
It was time to take a break and long time ago. You’re overdue.
Years ago, that koala photograph appeared in my wall calendar. The instant I turned the page to it, something in me went still. I was submerged in the quiet it offered...the soft grey fur, the closed eyes, the complete surrender to rest. Even in that absolute stillness, he seemed to speak. Without moving, without opening his eyes, he somehow reached across the distance between his peaceful branch and my frazzled mind, calling me toward calm.
All through that month I kept returning to him. Some days it was the only soft place I could find when my thoughts began to race and focus slipped away. Other days it was the gentle hand on my shoulder at night, reminding me I had gone too long without pausing. Every morning, before I even sat down, my eyes sought that small pocket of peace. It became a quiet ritual, a wordless conversation between the zen koala and the frayed edges of me.
When the month ended and it was time to flip the page, my hand wouldn’t obey. I tore the picture free from the spiral binding and pinned it to the wall, as if letting him go would mean losing the quiet invitation he kept offering. Years later he still stands there, carefully framed now, a steady sentinel beside the newer calendars that keep marking time’s relentless march. And still he offers the same gift: a lasting peace I can return to whenever the spiral begins - permission to close my eyes, breathe, and rest in the calm he has never stopped holding out to me.
It was time to take a break.I saw glass shattered on the floor.They were screaming at each other .I can't take it anymore. Fist to her face.She was battered and abused.She chose her children and her life.A mother ,a wife,no more beatings .She ran to the greyhound and the bus drove away.From this terrible monster. Who looked like a Ole Pierce of clay.
The old clock on the wall had not stopped ticking, but somewhere along the way I had stopped listening.
Days had become measured by tasks instead of moments. There was always another email to answer, another idea to chase, another problem to solve. Even rest had become something to schedule rather than something to feel.
One afternoon I wandered into the garden carrying a cup of tea that had already gone lukewarm. I sat on a weathered bench with every intention of planning my next project. Instead, a robin landed on the fence a few feet away and stared at me as though it had been expecting me all along.
For several minutes, neither of us moved.
The wind slipped gently through the leaves, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and distant rain. Somewhere beyond the hedge, children laughed. A bee drifted lazily from flower to flower, never appearing to hurry, yet somehow accomplishing everything it needed to do.
It struck me that nature never apologises for pausing.
The tide retreats before it returns. Trees stand bare through winter without feeling guilty. Even the moon disappears from view before becoming whole again.
Only humans seem to believe they must constantly produce, constantly prove, constantly push.
I looked down at my notebook. Every page was filled with plans for tomorrow, but none of them mentioned today.
So I closed it.
Not forever. Just long enough to remember that life is not something waiting beyond the next achievement. It is happening quietly in the spaces between them.
The tea was still cold.
The robin had already flown.
Yet somehow, I felt warmer than I had all week.
Perhaps that is what taking a break really means. Not escaping life, but returning to it. Giving ourselves permission to breathe without earning it, to sit without explaining it, to simply exist without measuring our worth by what we accomplish.
The work will still be there tomorrow.
The question is whether we will notice the robin when it comes back.
Sometimes the most productive thing we can do is nothing at all.
Taking a break requires permission from yourself to temporarily drop the internal weight of expectation.
It means accepting that for the next fifteen minutes, an hour, or a day, the world will keep turning without your active supervision and that is a comforting thing.
Rest isn't wasted time; it's the soil in which clarity grows.
That if I stopped fighting… stopped explaining… stopped proving… somehow I’d lose.
Yesterday taught me something different…
A break isn’t quitting.
It’s putting down the sword long enough to remember, why you picked it up in the first place?
For months.. maybe years.. I have been carrying things that were not meant for one pair of shoulders. Court dates,single motherhood,five children who all need different pieces of me.
Grief that still sneaks up in grocery store aisles and quiet drives… Financial stress. Dreams bigger than my circumstances. Healing from things I never asked to survive. Some days I’ve become so used to surviving that I forgot what living felt like.
Yesterday I chose peace. Not perfect peace. Not “everything is fixed” peace.
Just enough peace to say…
“Today, I don’t have to carry every fight.”
There is a strange guilt that comes with resting when your life still feels unfinished.
The laundry still waits. The bills still exist. The future still asks impossible questions.
But so does my soul.
It whispers, “Sit down for a minute.”
The world celebrates people who never stop moving.
I’m learning to celebrate the people who know when to pause.
Because seeds don’t bloom the day they’re planted.
Muscles don’t grow during the workout, they grow during recovery.
It was time to take a break. For years, I have been running on auto-pilot, numb to everything around me, just running on empty gas. And for what? Well, I don't think I ever actually stopped to think it over, because everything else always felt more urgent. But what can be more urgent and important than doing what you love and being around loved ones? The commercial world has constantly thrust upon us the concept of hustling, a lot of which has nothing to do with our well-being, apart from the money, of course. Do we actually need everything that is popularly perceived as a necessity in the world we live in?
I think I am starting to crack, and if I don't take this as a sign, then there is something seriously wrong!! And this time, taking a break is not going to mean screen time. This time, I want it to mean good old hobbies - gardening, cooking, gossiping on the phone with my best friends, and the list can actually go on for a while!
Good one; all the beautiful gifts in the life comes unhurried. Often we need a break to acknowledge their presence. How subtle it would be to narrate the need of a break without actually writing about it. May be you find it in my response to the prompt. Do check out please. Have a good one
For most Covid was unbearable. For some isolation exaggerated pre-existing feelings of inadequacy. For others, the stress of change and uncertainty, amplified anxieties and fears. For me, however, it was a welcome break. At least initially…
As a teacher with roughly 11 years under my belt, I had just had the two most challenging years of my career. My students had many needs and I wanted desperately to meet as many of those needs as possible. I would arrive at school early in order to rework lessons to help maximize student engagement, then stay late to give kids a safe space after school, and in the in-between time I would act as a teacher, counselor, behavior specialist, and confidant to the young lives packed in my classroom throughout the day. I would then come home to my own two kids who were both under the age of six who needed my full attention. I was exhausted and was very nearing burnout.
Then in early 2018, my mother-in-law started to rapidly deteriorate from Alzheimer’s. On top of being everything for everyone at school and at home, I found myself helping my husband navigate the emotional roller coaster that is watching and caring for a loved one as they slowly slip away. We lost her in the spring of 2019 and after faithfully caring for his wife of 50+ years Andrew’s father suffered a heart attack the night before we were to start teaching the fall term. That school year was spent trying to play catch-up and clean up in every part of lives. We were drowning in a sea of emotional overload.
Needless to say, it was time for a break!
So, when the governor of Oregon issued the “stay at home” order on March 23, 2020, our household was finally able to stop and take our first collective breath in almost 2 years. Now I’m not claiming that the entire Covid lockdown was a positive experience for us because it certainly had its challenges, but we did fall into a slower rhythm that gave us the space we needed to heal and reset and for that, I am grateful.
The old clock on the wall of my living room strikes 9. I was submerged in the world of my own making for the better part of the pleasant winter afternoon. Reading between the lines on my laptop screen and occasionally focusing my attention on the 7-horses portrait in front of me, I looked like someone desperately searching for inspiration. After five writing sessions, the climax of my maiden mystery novel still eluded me. However, tonight on the Christmas Eve, I was hoping for my eureka moment. It was long past evening when the darkness completely swallowed the last trace of twilight. Suddenly, a gust of wind made me shiver and took my attention away from the monitor. Instinctively, I moved towards the attached terrace of my living room. The bright stars sparkled across the night sky. The whole atmosphere was filled with the festive spirit of Christmas carols. My mind drifted from the silent confrontations of my characters to the illuminated night sky. The constant buzz of the street caught my attention. A flash of the firecracker light struck the far end of horizon and in the moment, something shifted within me. The flurry of thoughts suddenly started to take shape. I moved towards my desk with a sparkle in my eyes. It was the time to complete the unfinished business.
It was time to take a break!
The low, rhythmic hum of the ventilation system had long since stopped sounding like airflow and begun to sound like an engine running in an empty room. Outside the second-floor window, the afternoon light had flattened into that dull, grayish silver that usually signals either an approaching rainstorm or the invisible arrival of 5:00 PM. On the monitor, the cursor blinked with a steady, indifferent cadence—a small vertical line demanding a continuation that simply wasn't coming.
I pushed back from the desk, the cheap plastic casters of the office chair catching for a second on the frayed edge of the carpet floor mat before rolling free. The silence of the apartment felt heavy, almost solid, built up over six continuous hours of staring at spreadsheets, half-drafted emails, and open browser tabs whose purpose I could no longer recall.
Walking into the kitchen felt like stepping into a different time zone. The counter was cool under my hands as I leaned against it, waiting for the kettle to boil. There is a specific kind of mental fatigue that doesn't feel like tiredness in the muscles; it feels like over-saturation, as though every piece of information taken in throughout the day is sitting in a crowded queue at the back of the skull, waiting for a turn to be processed.
The kettle began its soft, escalating hiss. Through the small kitchen window that faced the inner courtyard, I watched a bird hop along the edge of a rain gutter, entirely unconcerned with deadlines, unread messages, or the vague sense of urgency that seems to govern human schedules. It flicked its tail, took flight, and disappeared over the brick roofline.
When the tea was steeped, I didn't take it back to the desk. That was the usual mistake—taking the break back to the place where the work lived, essentially drinking tea in front of a firing squad of pending tasks. Instead, I opened the back door and stepped out onto the small, fire-escape balcony.
The air outside was crisp, carrying the faint, metallic scent of damp asphalt and distant traffic. Down on the street, life moved at its normal, unhurried pace. An old sedan with a rusted muffler rattled past; a woman walking a stubborn Beagle paused at the corner while the dog investigated a fire hydrant with absolute, exhaustive focus. Watching them, the tight knot of artificial urgency between my shoulders began to loosen, just a fraction.
We build these strange, invisible walls around our days, convincing ourselves that if we just push through one more hour, clear one more inbox, or finish one more draft, we will finally earn the right to pause. But the work never actually ends; it just reshapes itself into new demands. The break isn't a reward for finishing; it's the fuel required to keep going without losing your mind in the process.
https://teachingwonder.substack.com/p/its-time-to-take-a-break?r=257ds3&utm_medium=ios
Breaks are really important for writing something creative and unique
Thanks for sharing and keep writing 💫
Just highlighting this part
We’ll be back in September with more nudges to keep you writing, as well as fresh articles, events and an exciting new offer for those looking to develop their writing skills who can’t come to our Zoom classes.
It was time to take a break. Time to step away from everything, to immerse yourself into the things long forgotten. Hobbies, recreation, enjoyment. The long stints of working day in and day out do nothing for the soul. The human inside of us needs more than food, clothes and shelter. The human experience isn’t to work tirelessly until collapsing from exhaustion to meet quotas and goals. It’s to enjoy the life we have, the world we experience. We are not designed to work ourselves to death in the pursuit of creating more wealth for those who have enough. Take a break. Take a good, long break. Not after many years of working to retire. Take a break now. While you’re young, while you have the health and mobility to experience the world around you. To engage with things that aren’t reserved for the wealthy or dreamers. Be a writer. Be an artist. Be a photographer. Be a hiker. Be an explorer. Be a child again. Take back what was robbed from you. You are not to be a cog in a machine. Millions of years evolving into the beings we are, capable of grasping the Milky Way galaxy in our minds and understanding the fantastical universe for which we exist as a speck in.
It was time to take a break and long time ago. You’re overdue.
Years ago, that koala photograph appeared in my wall calendar. The instant I turned the page to it, something in me went still. I was submerged in the quiet it offered...the soft grey fur, the closed eyes, the complete surrender to rest. Even in that absolute stillness, he seemed to speak. Without moving, without opening his eyes, he somehow reached across the distance between his peaceful branch and my frazzled mind, calling me toward calm.
All through that month I kept returning to him. Some days it was the only soft place I could find when my thoughts began to race and focus slipped away. Other days it was the gentle hand on my shoulder at night, reminding me I had gone too long without pausing. Every morning, before I even sat down, my eyes sought that small pocket of peace. It became a quiet ritual, a wordless conversation between the zen koala and the frayed edges of me.
When the month ended and it was time to flip the page, my hand wouldn’t obey. I tore the picture free from the spiral binding and pinned it to the wall, as if letting him go would mean losing the quiet invitation he kept offering. Years later he still stands there, carefully framed now, a steady sentinel beside the newer calendars that keep marking time’s relentless march. And still he offers the same gift: a lasting peace I can return to whenever the spiral begins - permission to close my eyes, breathe, and rest in the calm he has never stopped holding out to me.
The devil himself
It was time to take a break.I saw glass shattered on the floor.They were screaming at each other .I can't take it anymore. Fist to her face.She was battered and abused.She chose her children and her life.A mother ,a wife,no more beatings .She ran to the greyhound and the bus drove away.From this terrible monster. Who looked like a Ole Pierce of clay.
Wow!!!
# It Was Time to Take a Break
The old clock on the wall had not stopped ticking, but somewhere along the way I had stopped listening.
Days had become measured by tasks instead of moments. There was always another email to answer, another idea to chase, another problem to solve. Even rest had become something to schedule rather than something to feel.
One afternoon I wandered into the garden carrying a cup of tea that had already gone lukewarm. I sat on a weathered bench with every intention of planning my next project. Instead, a robin landed on the fence a few feet away and stared at me as though it had been expecting me all along.
For several minutes, neither of us moved.
The wind slipped gently through the leaves, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and distant rain. Somewhere beyond the hedge, children laughed. A bee drifted lazily from flower to flower, never appearing to hurry, yet somehow accomplishing everything it needed to do.
It struck me that nature never apologises for pausing.
The tide retreats before it returns. Trees stand bare through winter without feeling guilty. Even the moon disappears from view before becoming whole again.
Only humans seem to believe they must constantly produce, constantly prove, constantly push.
I looked down at my notebook. Every page was filled with plans for tomorrow, but none of them mentioned today.
So I closed it.
Not forever. Just long enough to remember that life is not something waiting beyond the next achievement. It is happening quietly in the spaces between them.
The tea was still cold.
The robin had already flown.
Yet somehow, I felt warmer than I had all week.
Perhaps that is what taking a break really means. Not escaping life, but returning to it. Giving ourselves permission to breathe without earning it, to sit without explaining it, to simply exist without measuring our worth by what we accomplish.
The work will still be there tomorrow.
The question is whether we will notice the robin when it comes back.
Sometimes the most productive thing we can do is nothing at all.
Sometimes, it is simply time to take a break.
It was Time to Take a Break
From taking on problems of others and also my mistakes
To release the bondage
That kept me bound
Familiar spirits stayed around
The Light was shining
Bright through me
I released the weight
While waiting to live free
The break I took
Was for the best
I chose to worship Jesus
No one or nothing over Him
Discern confusion
Put it in its place
Break free from control
Break free from pain
Break free from fear
As I hold someone else’s umbrella
While I stand out in the rain
Break free from comparison
Break free from my past
I am built to be made Whole
Like the Energizer Bunny
I Last
It Was Time To Take A Break
Written By Teresa Denise Harden
“As I hold someone else’s umbrella
While I stand out in the rain”
These lines in particular really made me pause - such a lovely image. Thank you for sharing your work with us :)
Taking a break requires permission from yourself to temporarily drop the internal weight of expectation.
It means accepting that for the next fifteen minutes, an hour, or a day, the world will keep turning without your active supervision and that is a comforting thing.
Rest isn't wasted time; it's the soil in which clarity grows.
That was fun, looking for excuses to get used to my new fountain pen
It was time to take a break.
The coffee had been sitting beside the laptop for minutes and had gone cold, as if it too had had enough of the day.
Outside, the wind pushed a few leaves across the courtyard, slowly, without haste, like people who no longer have anything to prove.
In the room, only the refrigerator hummed; otherwise, everything was still.
I leaned back and looked at the empty chair opposite me, as though it might give me a sensible answer.
On the table lay the stack of unfinished tasks, just high enough to make itself important.
I nudged it a finger’s breadth to the side and took one deep breath.
Then the phone chimed with a reminder that sounded as if even it had forgotten why it existed at all.
It Was Time to Take a Break
I used to think taking a break meant giving up.
That if I stopped fighting… stopped explaining… stopped proving… somehow I’d lose.
Yesterday taught me something different…
A break isn’t quitting.
It’s putting down the sword long enough to remember, why you picked it up in the first place?
For months.. maybe years.. I have been carrying things that were not meant for one pair of shoulders. Court dates,single motherhood,five children who all need different pieces of me.
Grief that still sneaks up in grocery store aisles and quiet drives… Financial stress. Dreams bigger than my circumstances. Healing from things I never asked to survive. Some days I’ve become so used to surviving that I forgot what living felt like.
Yesterday I chose peace. Not perfect peace. Not “everything is fixed” peace.
Just enough peace to say…
“Today, I don’t have to carry every fight.”
There is a strange guilt that comes with resting when your life still feels unfinished.
The laundry still waits. The bills still exist. The future still asks impossible questions.
But so does my soul.
It whispers, “Sit down for a minute.”
The world celebrates people who never stop moving.
I’m learning to celebrate the people who know when to pause.
Because seeds don’t bloom the day they’re planted.
Muscles don’t grow during the workout, they grow during recovery.
Even God rested.
Maybe breaks aren’t interruptions to the journey.
Maybe they are part of it.
Today I’m not chasing every answer.
I’m not trying to predict every outcome.
I’m simply allowing myself to breathe.
Tomorrow I’ll pick up what’s mine to carry.
But today…
It was time to take a break.
"Even God rested. God point!