I used to think the hard part was the breaking.
But sometimes, it’s the pausing that undoes you.
There’s a pause in every story that feels like the end, but it’s not. I call it the comma, that space between who you were and who you’re becoming. Sometimes it can feel more disorienting than any disaster.
For me, that comma came like the eye of a hurricane.
I’ve literally stood outside during the eye of a hurricane, that eerie stillness where everything suddenly goes quiet. It’s so peaceful and quiet. It’s the backside of the storm that does the real damage.
I was surviving in the States, but that’s all I was doing. Running two businesses, holding down a full-time job, and living on edge. It wasn’t sustainable. And deep down, I knew it.
After years of exhaustion, I finally stepped off the hamster wheel. But now I don’t know how to just breathe. I wasn’t falling apart in a dramatic way. But it was wearing me down. Quietly.
Saying yes to Mexico felt like a reset. A moment that felt like a deep breath — an exhale.
But here’s the part I didn’t expect:
Life after the comma is still messy.
We live with flooding. We live in the unknown. Some days still feel heavy. And I’m still adjusting to the quiet, the simple, the slow way of life here.
In the quiet there is space for a type of grace I didn’t have room for before.
I’m still learning how to be still. How to not brace for the next crisis and just remain calm.
The comma is where God catches us.
It’s not the end.
It’s the space where the next sentence gets written, not in chaos, but in quiet surrender.
Maybe you’re in a comma season too.
If you are, don’t quit in the pause. Don’t go back to what broke you.
Don’t go back just because you don’t know what’s next.
The pause isn’t the end.
It’s where the next part of the story gets written.
Keep walking.
Life after the comma is waiting.
– Trish 💛
