When Time Finally Slows Down

Last week I learnt more about mindfulness in therapy. Not the pretty kind - not the perfectly peaceful, slow-breathing, calm-mind version. The real kind. The messy, awkward, “how do I even stop thinking long enough to do this?” kind.

My therapist and I talked about how mindfulness can slow time down. That sentence stopped me in my tracks - slow down time. The idea that my anxious, fast-moving, overthinking brain could find stillness, even for a moment, felt impossible and magical at the same time.

I’ve always been an overthinker. A high-functioning, deeply anxious human who’s learned to survive by anticipating, pleasing, and doing. My mind runs a million miles a minute - what’s next, who needs what, what should I say, what if I let someone down?

When you live like that, your life becomes a checklist instead of an experience. I’ve said yes to so many things without ever asking myself if I wanted to. My therapist said something that’s been echoing in my head:

“Every time you say yes to one thing, you’re saying no to something else.”

Usually, that “something else” is me.

So, I’m trying something new.

I’m learning to pause - even for thirty seconds.

To actually taste my morning coffee instead of gulping it down while thinking about emails.

To feel the warmth of the shower on my skin without planning my entire day before I’ve even dried off.

To breathe in through my nose and notice what’s around me - sounds, smells, small details that remind me I’m here.

It still feels strange. My brain resists it every time. I start thinking about what I’m supposed to be doing instead. But I’m learning that mindfulness isn’t about being perfect at presence - it’s about noticing when I’ve drifted and gently coming back.

There’s something beautiful about how mindfulness stretches a moment. When I slow down, time feels different - softer somehow. It’s like the chaos in my mind untangles, even if just a little. And in that tiny pause, life doesn’t feel like something I’m rushing through - it feels like something I’m living.

I’m still learning.

I still forget.

I still catch myself running ten steps ahead of the present. But I’m starting to believe that being mindful isn’t about mastering calm - it’s about giving yourself permission to exist in this exact second.

If you want to try to learn this too, let’s start small together. Feel the warmth of a drink. Watch the sky change colors. Breathe deeper than usual.

Let time slow down - even for a heartbeat.

Because maybe this - this quiet, imperfect awareness - is where we actually start to live.

Thank you for being here 💕