When You Can’t Do What You Love: A Gentle Reflection on Rest and Renewal

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"The pause is not the end - it's a part of the rhythm."

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When You Can’t Do What You Love: A Gentle Reflection on Rest and Renewal

I know this feeling well.

Like after undergoing stomach surgery from years of intense lifting - when my world changed. I couldn’t train or move like before, and all the usual ways I cared for myself were suddenly off the table.

Or when I’ve tried to nurture something small - a plant, a project - and watched it wither despite my care… feeling that sting of frustration rise.

These moments can make us feel disconnected from ourselves.

Unable to “keep up”, restless, tangled in thoughts like: “I’m falling behind”, “Will I ever get back to where I was?”

The body healing slower than we want. The mind spiralling faster than we can catch.

But here’s the truth I return to:

Even when I can’t do what I love, I can still love myself in the pause.

Recovery - from injury, illness, exhaustion, or even loss - is not linear.

Some days we’ll feel strong. Some days we won’t. But none of this means we’ve failed.

It simply means we’re human… and that life, like nature, moves in its own rhythms.

" I trust that I can start again gently."

When I feel stuck, these are some of the gentle things that help me soften:

A single breath - not to change or fix anything, but to meet myself here, in this moment. (Yes, I know I often speak of the breath - but it truly is the quiet thread that’s always with us, from our very first inhale to our final exhale. A soft anchor. A steady companion.)

Whispering to myself what I can do today - even if it’s something small… even if it’s simply choosing to rest, with kindness.

Trusting that growth is quiet work - often unfolding where we can’t yet see… roots strengthening in the dark, long before anything blooms.

And when things I’ve tended with love don’t thrive? I remind myself: starting over is never weakness. It’s a quiet act of courage… an invitation to begin again.

So if you find yourself in a season like this - unable to train, waiting for your body to catch up, or simply feeling like things around you aren’t going to plan - I’m gently with you.

You don’t have to rush back. You don’t have to force the next bloom. You can rest - fully and without guilt. And when you’re ready, the next chapter will unfold in its own time.

Until then, go kindly. That’s enough.

Eva.

" Even now, I am enough - exactly as I am."

P.S. These photos were taken on a quiet morning when my best friend took me to the sea for sunrise - though the sun stayed hidden behind soft mist.

She knew I needed it. My mind had been heavy with thoughts… about the things I love but can’t quite do right now. And that emptiness? It felt real. But maybe, just maybe, some pauses have a purpose. Maybe they make space for something new to arrive. Sitting by the waves, I slowly found my breath again. I felt enough. I felt rested. And in a quiet way, I felt renewed.

"But maybe, just maybe, some pauses have a purpose. Maybe they make space for something new to arrive."