Slowing Down Enough to Hear Myself

I was never good at taking vacation.
It always felt like the world might fall apart if I didn’t get that one last thing done — a presentation, a launch, a proposal, a meeting. So for years, my vacations were really just work in new locations. I travelled often, saw the world — but never truly put the to-do list down.

When I left Aimfor, I created a “Closing Stockholm” checklist — tying up every loose end so I wouldn’t carry it with me. Then came “Closing Sweden,” which lasted a few days into the trip. After that, the lists turned into places I wanted to see and routes I wanted to take across New Zealand. Still structured, but the structure led me toward beauty, not productivity. That was the first layer of slowing down.

But old habits run deep.

When I saw that a cyclone was heading toward the North Island, I realised my planned route would be soaked in seven days of rain — and I might miss the Tongariro Crossing, the one hike I’d been dreaming about. So I dropped the plan. Changed direction. Headed south.

That small disruption stirred up something in me. A familiar tension. And in that moment, I could feel how much I’d actually softened — because the push didn’t fit anymore. It interrupted something quieter inside me. Something I hadn’t even realised I was listening to.

It took a few days to land again.
And then, I did.

I was in Wellington to feel into the city. The rain came, and I’d planned to visit Te Papa — but I didn’t feel like it. So I didn’t go. I drove to the campground and just… rested.

It was one of the most peaceful evenings I’ve had in a long time.
And still, I slept ten hours.

Three months off work, and I’m surprised by how many layers there are to shed.
Each time I think I’ve arrived, another one falls away.
Each time, I land a little deeper into presence.
Into stillness.
Into myself.

Lately, I’ve started noticing the quieter choices I make — not just what I do, but how I do it. How I wake up. How I move through my mornings.

I don’t set alarms. I stay in bed for a while.
I breathe.
I meditate.
I cook breakfast and eat it while immersed in nature.
Sometimes I journal my dreams.
And then the day unfolds however it wants to.

It’s simple. But it’s mine.

The more I slow down, the more I notice my own voice again. My own rhythm.
And with that, something else has become clear: I need less noise around me to keep hearing it.

So this morning, I removed the social media apps from my phone. Again. Not the accounts, just the apps. I’ve done this before — to see what shows up when I don’t have the constant fix of reels, messages, updates. But this time it feels different.

Back when I ran Aimfor, being online felt like part of my duty. Now… it doesn’t.

I’ve even found myself relying on ChatGPT too much — asking questions before letting my own thoughts form. So I’m stepping back from that, too. Not forever, just for now. Just to hear more of what’s already inside me.

And I’ve noticed something else: as I relax, I’m also becoming more restless.
It feels like something wants to move. To shift.
And I don’t think I’ll find what it is while I'm still filling the space with digital distractions.

A few new ideas are starting to take shape.
I haven’t found my place yet — not one I’d call home.
But over the next two weeks, I’ll be heading into the regions that feel the most promising.
Somewhere between the mountains and the sea, I hope to hear what’s next.

But for now, I’m just listening.