Reflections On Wasted Time
Lately, I’ve been feeling paralyzed. As a new mom, every time my baby naps, I suddenly have twenty things I could do — laundry, work, cleaning, resting, catching up with a friend, reading… and instead of choosing, I freeze. The list feels endless, and I don’t know where to start.
This season has forced me to look closely at my relationship with doing and resting. I put so much pressure on myself to make the most of every free moment — to be productive, to not “waste” it. And in that pressure, I find myself stuck. The time starts to feel… dead.
But maybe it’s not dead. Maybe it’s just unclaimed energy — quiet space I haven’t learned how to hold yet.
I’ve been trying to see it differently. To allow for space that doesn’t have a purpose. To let the quiet moments be quiet — open, uncertain, soft. Not wasted. Just… being.
And that’s hard. Because when you’re building something — a dream, a business, a life — rest can feel risky. Like you’re falling behind. But I’m learning that things don’t always come together through force. Sometimes they need room to become what they’re meant to be.
That’s what inspired the collection TRANSCEND. It’s a reminder that not everything valuable announces itself loudly. Some of the most meaningful transformations begin in silence — in the pause, in the not-yet. These pieces are shaped by that in-between: soft edges, fluid lines, forms that feel like they’re still becoming.
The truth is, I don’t really know how to rest. I haven’t seen it modeled in a way that feels safe or nourishing. So it feels unfamiliar — even a little dangerous. What if I slow down too much? What if I lose momentum? But the fact that I’m even asking those questions tells me I won’t. I’m paying attention. I care.
And when I give myself that space — even just a little — I notice something shifts. Boredom turns into curiosity. Fog into clarity. The pause makes room for something new to arrive.
I’m learning that being is part of building.
Sometimes I anchor myself in small ways — a deep breath, a walk, reading something that doesn’t have a point. It’s not about being productive. It’s about being present.
This is what I’m learning to trust: nothing is wasted when it’s met with awareness. Even the quiet moments are doing something.
If you need the permission to pause, this is it. The quiet holds more than we think. And maybe, just maybe — it’s where we begin to transcend.