Practicing the Pause

Discover how Practicing the Pause helps break self-sabotage cycles, build emotional accountability, and create lasting personal growth.

The Hidden Power of Pausing

Do you ever catch yourself reacting in a way that doesn’t serve you well, and yet you do it anyway? Maybe it’s just ‘who you are’, an old behavior, a defensive response, or even a coping mechanism that once kept you safe, but has been translated into self-sabotage.

If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. Our past experiences shape how we react in the present, often without us realizing it. In my experience, I’ve often felt as though a phantom author was scripting my life, replaying the same narrative again and again, like a scratched record.

But here’s the good news: you don’t have to stay stuck in the loop.

Acknowledging the Cycle

What Practicing the Pause Really Means

The first step toward change is recognizing a difficult truth: you are the common denominator in all of your relationships, stories, and outcomes.

It’s easy to point outward and say, “They always do this” or “That person made me feel...” But when we position ourselves only as the victim, we give away our power. We also rob ourselves of the accountability needed for expansion and growth.

This doesn’t mean past traumas are your fault. Many of us endured experiences beyond our control, especially when we were young. What it does mean is that, as adults, we do have control over how we manage our emotions and responses moving forward, and not only that, but it is our responsibility to learn how to manage our emotions and responses. 

The Practice of Interrupting Patterns

So, how do you begin breaking old patterns in the heat of the moment, when everything is hitting the fan, emotions are high, and the familiar response feels automatic?

The answer lies in something I call Practicing the Pause.

Every fork in the road is an invitation to Practice the Pause.

A Roadmap for the Mind

How Practicing the Pause Helps Break Old Patterns

Imagine you're driving along a familiar road. You're cruising on autopilot, barely thinking about the path itself – you could do it with your eyes closed. 

Suddenly, you hit a fork in the road (This might represent a moment of adversity, an offense, or a challenge). Historically, you’ve always turned left—reacting the same way, repeating the same cycle.

But this time, you stop. You pause.

In that pause, you recognize where the left turn always leads: more of the same. And because you paused, you notice something new; an alternative - the right turn.

This road is uncertain, unpaved, and uncomfortable. It will require work, patience, and courage. But it also offers a chance for something different: healing, growth, and freedom from patterns that no longer serve you.

Choosing the Road Less Traveled

Steps to Start Practicing the Pause in Daily Life

When you choose to practice the pause, you choose to:

• Stop reacting on autopilot.

• Consider the outcomes of both choices.

• Give yourself permission to try something new, even if it feels uncomfortable.

At first, the right turn may feel daunting. There are no clear lines, no guarantees. But with each pause, each new choice, the path becomes more familiar and less intimidating.

Consistency Brings Transformation

Change won’t happen overnight.

Practicing the pause is just that—a practice. Some days you’ll get it right. Other days, you’ll find yourself defaulting back to the old left turn. And that’s okay.

The key is grace and persistence. Remember, no destination is final. You can always “reverse,” pause again, and try a new route. With time, consistency, and patience, your emotional responses will shift.

What once felt impossible will become your new normal.

Why Practicing the Pause Matters

Practicing the Pause isn’t just about behavior change—it’s about reclaiming your peace, healing old wounds, changing thought patterns, and stepping into healthier relationships with yourself and others.

It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. Each pause invites opportunity for growth. Each right turn leads you further from self-sabotage and closer to self-empowerment.

Final Thought

Practicing the Pause is for you - for your healing, your growth, and your peace. It’s about learning to sit in the discomfort of the unfamiliar long enough to make a different choice. And with every choice, you’re not just breaking patterns—you’re rewriting your story.

So, the next time you come to that familiar fork in the road, remember you have the power to pause.

Reflections:

Consider a behavior you’d like to let go of…

• Have you ever considered where this particular behavior or thought pattern originated from?

• What behavior or thought patterns are you ready to practice pausing in your life?

For deeper consideration and clarity, I’d love to partner with you!

Let’s connect to discuss how I can serve you along your journey over a Discovery Call.

Never Seen

Ignored by the one you most want to be seen by

"I think that's my dad," I thought to myself. I sat on the small, single-stepped cement porch, gray paint chipping, red underneath. It was a summer's eve in front of the small yellow house. I watched an old white car, probably a Chevy or Ford, pull up. The sun was setting behind him, casting his silhouette - a tall, slender man with a black-rimmed cowboy hat, boots, and a white button-up shirt partially unbuttoned to expose his chest; sleeves rolled. In his right hand, a brown paper bag hid a bottle of liquor.

He walked towards me, it seemed like slow motion - a scene from an old western across the straw-like grass. But he wasn't walking to meet me. He went right past me without a word, opened the rickety screen door, and stepped into the living room.

"I think that's my dad," I said again to myself, frozen on the step, completely dismayed. "Was that my dad?" I asked myself several times. It couldn’t have been him, could it? If it were, why wouldn’t he speak to me? How could he walk right around me as though I were an object? It felt like he went through me; how could he not see me? 

Questions began to rustle through my little mind; a surge of wind released inside, leaves dancing on a blustery fall day.

Behind the Screen Door

I turned back to the screen door. Inside, I heard laughter - a song not often sung in my household, now coming from the kitchen. I leaned in, pressing my small, sun-kissed cheek against the dusty screen to hear what was being said and desperate to understand why they were laughing. I listened until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I turned my face away and stood paralyzed before the door.

I don't know how long I stood there, gazing at the handle. But it felt like minutes before I could muster the courage to extend my arm, wrap my tiny hand around the handle…and I paused again. In those few seconds with pause, a tsunami of "What if's...?" overwhelmed my entire body. It prevented me from opening the door. 

"What if they are laughing because they’re happy I’m not there? What if I don't belong? What if he doesn't want me there?" “What if he..?” The questions kept coming.

I finally reminded myself: my mom and big sister, Linda, were there. They wanted me. With that, I opened the door and stepped into the small, smoky living room. I made my way into the kitchen where all three sat around the dirty card table we used for dining. 

My mom’s bottle of Old English 800 Malt Liquor and one of her many stolen glasses from The Spare Room, never empty, sat before her. Across from her, this man, my dad, whom I’d met twice before. In front of him was his brown bag with the top of it wrapped snugly around the neck of the bottle; his right hand rested on the table and he held it tightly as though it might leap from his presence and fill someone else’s glass with the elixir he nursed. Linda sat on his left leg. I'd always been told he loved Linda. I used to wish I was her, to have known and been loved by him too.

The Interruption

The laughter and conversation continued as I stood to the left of my mom, waiting for acknowledgment. I waited. And I waited. Nothing. Not a word. I stood quietly, seeing the awkward smile on my sister’s face, listening to the laughter. It was like watching a TV show - I looked at them, but they did not see me.

Finally, I cleared my throat and said, "Hi." A silence fell upon us like an unforeseen invasion. They all looked at me. There was no warmth or welcome in either of my parents’ eyes. Instead, I knew in an instant: I had just interrupted something. In that split second, the fear of one of my many "What ifs?" became my reality - the reality that I did not belong.

"Go to your room." My little mind didn’t register it. I must've heard wrong. Why would I have to go to my room? I didn’t do anything...did I?

He said it again, "Go to your room." I stood there, feeling something hit me deep in my belly, unable to move. I stood and waited for my mom to defend me, to welcome me into that space, to tell him I did belong, that he was the intruder. And yet another part of me stood defiantly, knowing he didn’t belong. 

Who was this man? This man I’d met twice before, at age 3 and age 4. Who did he think he was?

The Lasting Imprint

Although they were few, with each encounter, he brought a deep pain that bled into the marrow of my soul, projecting disdain through his indifference towards me. This man, Falanco, better known as ‘Buck,’ had violated the tenderness of my young heart. This caused stony foundations to be laid, which later erected impenetrable walls as an attempt to guard it from the sting of rejection that seemed to taunt me in future relationships. That rejection later became an abyss of patterns and cycles I could not easily identify nor escape.

Fear of rejection and pain later became an inevitable attribute in each relational story of my life.

I looked my mom in her drunken eyes, silently pleading with her to say something, anything. To let him know I belonged, this was my home. But instead, she acceded to his demand for my departure: "Listen to your father and do what he says."

My dad never saw me. 

Not ever.

Final Thought

This profound childhood experience was just the first ripple in understanding connection, belonging, and the unseen impacts of our earliest moments. I'll share more about how these deep feelings of rejection manifested in my life, the challenging patterns that emerged, and ultimately, the path I discovered to not just understand these experiences, but to truly heal and embrace authentic connection in spite of them rather than allow them to continue to define me.

Reflections:

• In what moments do you feel invisible, and what would it take to change that?

• How would your life look different if you allowed yourself to be fully authentic and visible?

• What small, courageous step could you take this week to show up more confidently as yourself?

The first step to being truly seen is daring to look inward. Coaching gives you a safe space to do just that.

If these questions stirred something in you, let’s talk. Contact me to book a Discovery Call.