I wasn't Resting. I was in retreat.
I stood at the kitchen sink in my high-rise apartment, staring out at the city skyline. And I found myself thinking about the old oak tree.
I stood at the kitchen sink in my high-rise apartment, staring out at the city skyline.
And I found myself thinking about the old oak tree.
The one I used to watch from my kitchen window in my previous home—the one that watched over birthday parties, late-night talks on the porch, quiet moments with coffee in the morning.
That tree was steady. Unchanging. A witness to the life I built there.
And now, standing here in a completely different place, in a completely different life, I felt it—the pull.
A part of me wanted to move forward. To step fully into this new dream I’d dared to claim.
But another part? Another part wanted to retreat into the comfort of what used to be, to convince myself that the dream didn’t matter all that much, to tell myself it wasn’t worth the risk.
Split energy.
I let out a sigh, resting my cup on the counter.
I’d left the house with the oak tree. I’d left the old life. I’d moved into this high-rise at 65 to be closer to my daughter, to live lighter, to start fresh.
But I’d brought the old patterns with me.
The ones that whisper: Maybe this dream is too big. Maybe it’s too late. Maybe you’ve been foolish to think you could be more than what you’ve always been.
And yet.
That oak tree—the one I can still see in my mind—never apologized for growing.
It never asked permission to stretch taller, to deepen its roots, to become.
So why was I?
I wiped my hands, took a deep breath, and made a decision.
I wasn’t going to shrink back into the past just because it was familiar.
I wasn’t going to let the old patterns follow me into this new life.
I was going to keep moving forward.
That moment at the sink?
That happened a year ago. January 9th, 2025.
That was my wake-up call.
Because here’s what I realized standing there:
This wasn’t rest. This was retreat.
And there’s a difference.
I didn’t know it then, but that moment—that choice to keep moving forward instead of shrinking back—set everything else in motion.
The 523 posts I’ve written since.
The 9750 folloers + 5,850 subscribers who’ve joined me.
The dream I kept choosing, even when the lull tried to pull me back.
It all started with recognizing the difference between rest and retreat.
And this week, I found myself there again. I have a new dream, not ready to announce, but hopefully soon and hopefully all of you will enjoy it!
Have You Ever Given Yourself Permission to Rest—Only to End Up Questioning Your Entire Existence?
That’s what happened to me.
I was determined to rest.
I napped. I played with my games on my phone. I did a few domestic chores but mostly just existed.
Good, right?
Until it wasn’t.
Somewhere in the quiet, something shifted.
My energy split.
I found myself spiraling into thoughts like:
“Maybe I don’t this dream is just too big.”
“Maybe I should just stop.”
“Maybe it’s not as important as I thought.”
Wait. Stop.
That was the moment I knew something deeper was happening.
Because here’s the truth:
When you start questioning your dream—not because of a real shift in passion, but because of a temporary lull—you’re not dealing with self-doubt.
You’re dealing with split energy.
What IS Split Energy?
Split energy is when part of you wants to move forward while another part is pulling you back into the safety of what you’ve always known.
It’s the tension between becoming and retreating.
At first, it just feels like you’re taking a break. No big deal, right?
But then, discomfort creeps in.
Guilt pops in for a visit.
And suddenly, instead of enjoying the rest you deserve, you’re questioning your whole path.
What’s actually happening underneath?
🔹 You’re avoiding the weight of your dream. The bigness of it. The responsibility of it.
🔹 You’re avoiding the discomfort of growth. Because real transformation? It asks us to change—and change is scary.
🔹 You’re falling back into old programming. Society has told us for decades that at a certain age, we should slow down, settle in, and shrink our ambitions.
I call bullshit.
And yet, this is exactly where most people back down.
They mistake the lull for a sign to stop.
They assume their discomfort means their dream wasn’t real.
They convince themselves they’re being “unrealistic.”
But here’s what I need you to hear loud and clear:
💡 Your dream is still yours. The lull is just part of the process.
Split Focus: When You’re Stuck Between Two Identities
Right now, if you’re reclaiming a dream that you set aside years (or decades) ago, you’re standing in the space between two versions of yourself.
🔹 The past version of you that followed the rules, did what was expected, and put everyone else first.
🔹 The next version of you—the one who is stepping into something bigger, bolder, and unapologetically yours.
And in that space?
There’s grief. For the past life you’re leaving behind.
There’s uncertainty. Because the new version of you isn’t fully formed yet.
There’s resistance. Because the easiest thing to do would be to retreat into the familiar.
But you won’t.
Because you already woke up.
You already know there’s more waiting for you.
You already feel the pull of something greater.
And once you’ve seen it, you can’t unsee it.
What You’re Really Afraid Of
Let’s be honest about what’s actually happening in the lull.
You’re not questioning the dream because it stopped mattering.
You’re questioning it because:
What if you try and fail?
What if you’re “too old” to start over?
What if people think you’re being ridiculous?
What if you invest everything and it doesn’t work out?
These fears are real. And they’re valid.
But here’s what I know:
The regret of not trying will always outweigh the discomfort of trying.
So the question isn’t, “Do I still want this?”
The real question is:
“How do I tell the difference between rest and retreat?”
“And what do I do when the lull tries to pull me back?”
Rest vs. Retreat: How to Tell the Difference
REST feels like:
Recharging
Softening
Breathing room
Coming back to yourself
Your body saying “thank you”
RETREAT feels like:
Numbing
Avoiding
Shrinking
Disconnecting from your dream
Your soul saying “wait, where did you go?”
Here’s the test:
After your rest, do you feel MORE connected to your dream or LESS?
If MORE: That was rest. You needed it.
If LESS: That was retreat. And it’s time to come back.
What I Did After the Oak Tree Moment
After I wiped my hands and made that decision at the sink, I didn’t force myself to “do the work.”
I didn’t sit down and paint for three hours.
I didn’t write a business plan.
I did something smaller.
I spoke one sentence out loud with my hand over my heart:
“The dream is still real. The lull is lying.”
That’s it.
And something shifted.
Not dramatically. Not like lightning.
But my nervous system exhaled.
My soul came back online.
I reconnected.
Because here’s what I’ve learned:
When you’re in the lull, you don’t need to DO everything.
You just need to do ONE thing that reconnects you to the truth.
One sentence. One breath. One choice.
That’s enough to break the spell of retreat.
In my next essay, I’m going to show you exactly how to manage split energy when it shows up—the four practices that help you stay in your power even when the lull tries to pull you back.
But for now, just know this:
If you’ve been questioning your dream lately, you’re not alone.
And the dream? It’s still waiting.
An Invitation
If these words have been landing for you—if you’ve been reading for weeks or months and something keeps bringing you back—there’s a reason for that.
You’re recognizing something.
Not just in my story, but in your own.
The pull between who you were and who you’re becoming.
The dream that got sidelined that’s now whispering again.
The part of you that knows there’s more—and refuses to settle for less.
The Daily RE‑WIRE is for women who are done shrinking.
Done performing. Done being convenient. Done waiting for permission.
It’s for the ones who are reclaiming what was buried, reinventing what no longer fits, and reigniting the life they were always meant to live.
When you join as a paid subscriber, here’s what you receive:
Daily essays like this one—honest, unfiltered, soul-led writing about what it actually looks like to rewire your life at this stage.
Monthly guides delivered at no extra cost—practical tools like the Joy Ledger, “Building Trust with Yourself,” and “Reclaim. Reinvent. Restore.”
Live video sessions.
And most of all: a community of women who refuse to believe it’s too late.
There’s no content vault. No bonuses designed to convince you. No upsells.
Just this work. This voice. This steady practice of coming home to yourself.
If you’re ready to stop retreating and start reclaiming—
If you’re done negotiating with yourself about whether you’re worth investing in—
If the dream is still whispering and you’re finally ready to listen—
This is your invitation.
👉 Join The Daily RE‑WIRE
You’re not too late. You’re not too much. You’re not starting over.
You’re just finally becoming who you always were underneath all the should-haves and could-haves.
And that? That’s exactly where you’re meant to be.
Heart it if you’ve ever mistaken retreat for rest. Share it if someone needs to hear this today.
I was trying to listen to your podcast with the man....gosh it was a busy day...but I still haven't finished. Questions abound but what were ya'll talking about PDF? Also I really appreciated that he was defining acronyms...clueless here on some. Thanks ❤️ so much.
At 70, widowed and reeling from the aftermath of a toxic relationship chosen too soon, I had to convince myself that just sitting on the moderately sizeable inheritance left by my wife was folly and that purchasing a condo was the next step in my dream of being content, secure and independent. The next step in this new journey is to actually replace the hand-me-down sofa I have been lugging around with me for the past 6 years and buy the "too expensive" one that looks just like the one in the vision of my new life. After all, it IS $900 more than I think my old self deserves.