The Pause is Where Change Lives

It started with a thought.
Hers, not mine.
Spoken aloud before coffee, before clarity, before any filter could kick in.

And I felt it.

The twitch in my jaw.
The pressure in my chest.
The quiet, familiar urge to snap.

But I didn’t.

I paused.
And in that pause, everything shifted.

Most people think change is a process… but sometimes it’s just a moment.
A moment where the old pattern tries to charge in and take over…and you don’t let it.

Because the truth is, most people don’t respond to the world.
They recoil from it.
Pre-programmed. Wired up. Fused with old wounds and reflexes.
Someone says something, does something, triggers something…and boom.
It’s off to the races.

We speak too fast.
We act too soon.
We say things that weren’t even aimed at the person in front of us…they were aimed at ghosts.
Echoes.
Versions of ourselves we haven’t made peace with.

And then? We regret.
We spin.
We justify.

All because we skipped one tiny but powerful thing:

The pause.

I’ve been guilty of it too.

As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve hijacked moments with my thoughts.
I’ve filled silence with noise.
I’ve needed to be heard more than I’ve needed to listen.
I’ve reacted like a volcano and left people wondering what they did wrong…when the truth was, they just stepped on a landmine I forgot to disarm.

But here’s the part that changed my life:

Instead of pointing fingers… I started pointing thumbs.
Asking myself where I’d done it.
Where I was still doing it.
And what I needed to do next to finally stop.

That’s when I started practicing something I call “The Storyboard Technique.”

It’s simple.

When someone I love is struggling, or stuck in shame, or spinning…
I don’t lecture.
I don’t fix.

I tell a story.

Usually one where I was the villain.
Where I messed up.
Where I reacted poorly.
Where I got it wrong…but eventually found my way back.

And then I just… stop.
I let the story breathe.
Let them draw their own conclusions.
Let them feel seen without being diagnosed.

Because that’s what most people need.
Not advice.
Just proof that they’re not broken.
That someone else made it out the other side.

And it all starts with a pause.

That sliver of silence between what happens and what we do next.
The fork in the road.
The millisecond that decides whether we break the cycle or repeat it.

That pause? That’s the whole game.
It’s the start of every new chapter.
The birthplace of growth.
The moment where intention finally gets a voice.

We think change is some grand reinvention.
A 90-day plan. A new identity. A sweeping overhaul.

But sometimes…
It’s just a breath.

Most people think change is a tidal wave.
Sometimes it’s just a whisper.
A choice.
A moment.
A pause.

That’s where the change lives.
And once you learn to live in that space,
you stop reacting…
and start rewriting.