Friday morning’s at the clinic are pretty quiet, so while making a cup of coffee, my coworker and I had a conversation about our weekend plans.

I told her how I’ve really been enjoying my quiet evenings at home lately. The kind where the dog is curled up next to me, the TV is on something I’ve already seen three times, and the biggest event of the night is deciding between popcorn or ice cream – let’s be honest, sometimes it’s both.

She looked at me and smiled, then said, “You’re always out doing things in the community, no wonder you want to stay home.”

It’s true—I’m involved in a lot. Between work, BNI, being a Chamber ambassador, other community events, and the whirlwind of everyday life, I’m usually on the go more than I realize.

But her comment also hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting.

Somewhere along the line, I became a homebody. Not the kind that’s hiding from the world—but the kind who has poured so much into the world, that home became the refill station.

Don’t get me wrong—I love being out in the community. I love shaking hands, hugging friends, planning events, showing up, and doing the work that matters, but lately, I’ve come to equally value the exhale that comes when I walk through my front door and shut the world out for a little bit.

It’s not laziness. It’s restoration. It’s recognizing that quiet isn’t empty—it’s full of peace. It’s a warm mug instead of a calendar full of commitments. It’s choosing to pause, even when momentum wants to keep rolling.

So yes, I’m still out there, doing the things, but I’m also here. At home, with a heart that’s learning to be just as proud of rest as it is of hustle.

If you’re reading this and feeling the same tug toward stillness, consider this your permission slip.

You’re allowed to slow down. You’re allowed to say no.

And you’re allowed to want nothing more than your own couch and a quiet night.

We don’t have to earn our rest. Sometimes, we just need to receive it.

—
Love. Give. Live.