Quiet Moments and Why I’m Done Apologizing for Them

Let’s talk about something I don’t usually share out loud.

In those rare moments when I truly disconnect from screens, work, notifications, and everything else that pulls at me, I crave quiet. Not the kind of quiet that feels like a vacuum where the silence actually makes your thoughts louder. That’s a hard pass. I’m talking about the kind of quiet where the world isn’t silent, but natural. Where I can hear the frogs singing at night, birds chatting to each other, squirrels and chipmunks chittering in the background. The breeze rustling through the leaves. Even the occasional buzz of a bug, though let’s be honest, the mosquitoes can buzz off if they come too close. It’s that kind of quiet that soothes the overstimulated parts of my brain without making it louder in my head.

And I love it three ways.

One: early morning, on a back deck with a coffee in hand, sun on my face, and this feeling of warmth that fills me all the way through. If I am in the city, I’ll take a nice easy rock playlist in the background.

Two: out fishing, where the water laps gently against the boat and everything feels still. It’s peaceful and calm, until that sudden, insistent tug on the line snaps me back to attention and I feel that rush of excitement that only fishing brings.

Three: curled up in a swing chair or a Muskoka chair outside, paperback in hand. This is the one time I reach for a physical book over my tablet, even if it means everyone can see exactly what I’m reading. But there’s something about flipping real pages while surrounded by nature that just hits differently.

These moments don’t come often. As a business owner, mom, and wife, someone or something always needs my attention. And realistically, I only get a few months a year where the weather cooperates and I can really sink into these rituals. But when I do, they refill me. They clear the mental clutter. They wake up the creative part of me that sometimes goes quiet under the weight of responsibility. My mother-in-law has more often than once made sure I get a moment of peace reading, only to watch me get up and find my notepad and pen when inspiration hits.

Still, I’ll admit... I don’t always talk about these pockets of joy. Sometimes it feels like they’re too much. Like I’ve “earned too many gold stars” just for sitting still and listening to the world around me. I’ve had people hit me with the classic “Must be nice,” but in that sharp, bitey way—the kind that’s dripping with bitterness, like I’ve somehow stolen a luxury they don’t think I deserve.

And you know what? It is nice. But it’s also intentional.

It’s a choice I make. My family supports me because they know it’s important to me. Aaannnndddd I’m done feeling guilty about it.

Because here’s what I’ve learned: these quiet moments are my timeouts to reflect, celebrate, or to dream. They’re how I mark progress, pause for gratitude, and reconnect to myself. They aren’t flashy or Instagram-worthy. But they’re real, they’re grounding, and they matter just as much as the business wins.

And honestly, why shouldn’t we talk about these things? Why shouldn’t we carve out space to do something that makes us feel like ourselves again? If sharing this helps one other person realize they can step away without everything falling apart, then I want to keep talking.

Maybe for you it’s a slow walk. Or a hot bath. Or journaling in the morning with your favorite playlist in the background. Whatever it is, I hope you find your version of this quiet. And I hope you protect it.

Because you deserve it. Not when everything’s perfect. Not when your to-do list is empty. But right now.