Practicing The Pause (Even when it feels uncomfortable)

Pausing sounds simple, doesn’t it?

Stop.

Take a breath.

Engage with stillness and pause.

But for many of us, the pause is not a gentle invitation. It feels frightening, overwhelming, even unsafe. In fact, we can actively resist it. Have you thought that if you have to practice the pause there is something "wrong " with how you are showing up without it? What stories do you tell yourself about "pausing"?

Why pausing can feel so hard.

We live in a culture where we have learned our worth is tied to what we do. From childhood, many of us inherited the belief that to stop is to be unproductive, and to be unproductive is to be ineffective, lazy, or even unworthy.

So when we pause, it’s not just or only about stillness. This intersection, this brief moment touches something much deeper within us. Pausing can feel like breaking a lifelong rule, a betrayal of the contract with society and ourselves that we unwillingly and unsuspectingly co-signed.

Sometimes we avoid the stillness as the silence is not peaceful. We might justify and explain

 " I don't have time for that!" , and break your promise to yourself in making time. or you say " I will later", but later never comes.

Stopping, pausing and pivoting from "busy" can feel like opening the door to a tsunami of emotions we’ve carefully cultivated to keep at bay.

You might also be afraid that your Grief, fear, anger, exhaustion, and shame can rise up in the quiet. Perhaps you already know it will and this is why there is avoidance to this pause.

No wonder the idea of stopping feels threatening.

Perhaps you don't know how to give yourself space, perhaps there is some part of you that learned and holds the belief that you are not worth time, effort or grace. This will take practice. Your uncertainty is natural. Your willingness is enough.

Pausing and the neurodivergent experience

For many neurodivergent people, the discomfort around pausing can feel even more complex. The nervous system may be wired for constant alertness, scanning, or movement. The demand to “just be internally still” can feel like an unbearable demand. The task switch itself can feel uncomfortable, which can create its own tension.

Stillness can also heighten sensory awareness: the ticking clock, the hum of the fridge, the rise of emotions that were masked in the busyness. Instead of calming, the pause can feel overstimulating, even overwhelming.

And yet, this is where gentleness matters most.

Pausing does not need to look like silence or stillness. It might look like pacing slowly, doodling while you breathe, rocking in rhythm, or pausing with music in the background. For neurodivergent nervous systems, the pause can be movement, rhythm, or ritual, an embodied way of creating space without shutting down.

The truth about the pause

The pause is not empty, and it is not failure.

It is a space.

A space where our nervous system can reset, where our emotions can breathe, where we can respond to ourselves in a deeper way rather than react with harmful beliefs and words. The pause, however brief is a place of expansion, of connection and safety.

It doesn’t have to be grand or dramatic. The pause can be:

• Two slow breaths before replying to a question.

• A hand on your heart as you whisper, “What do I need right now?”

• A deliberate moment of "Help me see this differently"

• A brief moment of silence in a heated conversation. This conversation may even be the imaginary one you ruminate on in the shower . Practice the pause here too.

• A choice to delay your “yes” until you’ve checked in with yourself. Practice of your boundaries.

• A sensory-friendly ritual of movement, sound, or texture that helps you notice you are here and grounds you. Perhaps, compressed clothing or a weighted blanket. I love my dungarees for this very space. I feel cocooned and supported.

• You might link an action of lighting a candle, or listening to a piece of music, a full body shake as the invitation and prompt for peace.

Pausing in the tender places of life

• In parenting or caring: When a child’s big emotions erupt, or our loved one with dementia causes us deep frustration and sadness, gifting ourselves the grace of the pause gives space for patience, curiosity, and empathy, instead of quick reactions.

• In grief: When loss fills every corner, the pause allows us to sit with sadness, honour memories, and acknowledge love without rushing through our grief. In this pause , however brief, we can honour the natural flow and experience of our grief, and in doing so, honour our deep needs in these moments.

• In neurodivergence: Pausing might not look like stillness. It might look like stimming, pacing, or finding rhythm. What are your ways ways of creating safety while making space to be?

• In daily life: In the smallest of pauses, we reclaim moments of presence with ourselves in a world that pushes us to keep going.

  
  

Leaning into the discomfort

Pausing may always feel uncomfortable at first. You may feel restless, guilty, or overwhelmed. That doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. It means you are meeting yourself in a new way.

I I have tried to meet myself in ways that allow the pause. Different things have worked at different times. There was never any real consistency. That is ok too. It can be uncomfortable, but, I never regret it. I can con myself into thinking I have paused simply thinking about what I'd do, such as lying listening to music while scanning my body, observing and letting go of tension, or promising I will journal. The resistance is sometime a lack of trust or safety in self or sometimes a fear of what I might come to know or feel.

When discomfort comes, try holding this truth:

“The unease I feel is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of healing and connection.

I am learning who I am.

I am enough".

A gentle invitation

The pause is not about doing nothing. It is about making space to be.

To notice.

To listen.

To feel.

Even if it’s only for a heartbeat, what might it be like to pause today? What are you experiencing? Offer compassion and care to these feelings and spaces.

I've learned I can increase the intention and action of the pause by purposeful planning. I subtly invite body doubling to this task in a meaningful way by attending Yin Yoga.

This is my weekly appointment with myself that allows me to practice the pause in cultivated safety and connection. I don't feel so vulnerable or resistant.

Practicing your pause may not change the world around you.

But it may begin to change the world within you.

If this reflection speaks to you, and you’d like to explore how to make pausing feel safe, supportive, and healing, or to dismantle your fears around your pause, I’d love to walk alongside you. You can learn more about my counselling work www.theemotionaledit.org or reach out to book a session.

With warmth and respect,

Dawn

Click Me

Your Story. Your Way. You Centred.

#peace #pause #grace #self-compassion #practicingthepause