I Needed More Than Rest—I Needed Reconnection

Somewhere between unread Slacks, back-to-back Team meetings and the pressure to “just keep pushing,” I lost track of what made me feel like me.

I took time off this year. Not to travel. Not to celebrate.

I took time off because I was exhausted—and not in the poetic way people say they are.

I was emptied out. Numb. Staring at my own life like it belonged to someone else.

So I sat in the quiet. At first, it felt good—like unclenching a fist you didn’t know you were holding.

But then it got uncomfortable. Because once the noise stopped, I had to face the real question:

What does Jazmine even like to do—outside of being useful to other people?

I didn’t have an answer.

That realization hit harder than I expected. I had spent so long on auto pliot—doing what needed to be done, showing up, producing, fixing, pushing through—that I’d forgotten what I liked. Not what made sense. Not what was monetizable.

What made me feel joy for no reason at all?

I had to start from scratch. At 40. With no hobbies.

Just instincts and some faint memory of who I used to be before exhaustion became a personality.

So I started small.

I picked up my camera again. Not for content. For curiosity. I downloaded CapCut and clumsily taught myself how to edit video. I logged back into Duolingo and started re-learning a language—not for work, but because I wanted my brain to reset. The owl also has super aggressive reminders if you don’t practice everyday which is a nice kick in butt before procrastation sets in.

I walked slowly through neighborhoods, taking pictures of trees and windows and sidewalks that reminded me the world doesn’t run on urgency.I curled up on the couch while it rained. No laptop. No multi-tasking. Just me and the quiet hum of peace.

It wasn’t dramatic. There was no big breakthrough.

But piece by piece, I felt myself returning.

Not as the hyper-productive version. Not as the “put-together” one. But as someone who remembers what it feels like to sit on a beach, book in hand, and not perform healing—just experience it. Oh how I made my therapist proud within a few sessions.

Because here’s what I know now:

Rest is not just about sleep or silence.

It’s about reconnection.

With your body. Your joy. Your instincts. Your rhythm.

It’s about doing something that doesn’t scale.

Something that doesn’t go in your LinkedIn bio.

Something that doesn’t answer to a single calendar invite.

So if you’re in a season of emptiness, this is your reminder:

You don’t need a passion project.

You don’t need a five-year plan.

You need a thread that leads you back to yourself.

One page.

One walk.

One photo.

One word in a new language you may never be fluent in—but still want to try.

Not everything needs to be a strategy.

Some things just need to be yours.