The Beauty in the Pause.

This season has been one of slowing down—of embracing the art of being rather than doing.

Prepped for surgery

On August 15th, I went in for surgery and have spent the past six weeks in recovery. During this time, I have been experiencing something rare in our fast-paced world: the beauty in the pause.

The last time I remember pausing like this was in 2020, during the pandemic, when as a collective we were forced to shelter in place. But that pause was different. It was a time filled with panic, shock, and uncertainty. I tried to embrace it, but I kept myself busy—taking online courses, learning new hobbies, even starting a business. I filled every quiet moment so my nervous system stayed in overdrive, until life resumed again.

This pause has been different.

My dog, Cash, enjoying the pause too

Instead of filling my days with constant productivity, I’ve allowed myself to slow down and simply be. My days have been spent rewatching comforting shows (any Downton Abbey fans out there?), snuggling with my dog Cash, wandering familiar trails, cooking nourishing meals, and reconnecting with the daily rhythms I often take for granted.

This pause has given me the space to deeply reflect on my wellbeing. I’ve spent time journaling, making art, reflecting, and deepening my self-awareness and self-compassion. I’ve even engaged in counselling with a focus on grief—something I deeply needed.

This past year, I lost my brother Derek. He went missing on December 16th, and for three months we poured our energy into searching, spreading awareness, and supporting his children. When he was found on March 6th, deceased, I was consumed by grief. When someone you love dies, you wish time would stand still—just long enough to process the pain. But the world doesn’t pause. Obligations continue, routines demand attention, and life insists on moving forward.

This recovery period gave me what I longed for: the chance to truly sit with my grief, to feel it instead of rushing past it.

Mindfulness teaches us to be present. Recently, during a somatic workshop, I learned a perspective that struck me deeply: to be present, we must first digest our past. I’ve studied mindfulness since 2017, yet I had never thought of it this way. Presence, for me, has sometimes been a way to bypass painful emotions. This reminder—to engage in healing, to make space for past traumas, and to feel what has long been unfelt—was both grounding and liberating.

Growing up in the 90s, I was often taught to push feelings aside. Upsets were dismissed. “Tough love” was the way forward. This lesson was a reminder of the importance of giving emotions the space they need to be acknowledged, expressed, and healed.

This is also why Well Child Niagara exists.

Forest sit spots and journaling

Our mission at Well Child Niagara is to create safe, supportive spaces for children and youth—places where they feel seen, heard, and valued.

Every class, program, and offering is thoughtfully designed to support children in fun, accessible, and meaningful ways.

Through movement, creativity, mindfulness, and play, they learn tools to process their emotions in healthy, mindful ways.

In doing so, they discover the beauty in pausing.

Because pausing is not passive—it is powerful. It is preventative, proactive medicine for the soul. When children learn to pause, they learn to meet challenges with presence, to navigate setbacks with resilience, and to flourish in a world that rarely slows down.

This season has been a reminder for me. And my hope is that it can serve as a reminder for you too: the pause is not empty. It is full of healing, reflection, and growth. There is a quiet beauty waiting there for us all.