The other day I was folding my laundry, music playing in the background — just one of those quiet, ordinary moments where life is calm enough that your thoughts get a little space.
Then a song came on. A song from a time that still feels warm when it first brushes past me — until the warmth reminds me those moments aren’t here anymore.
For a second, it felt like I was back in it — that easy, familiar happiness.
And then… that quiet catch in my chest.
That reminder of what’s gone, and the way even the sweetest memories can carry an ache now.
I wasn’t just remembering.
I was pulled into it — the good and the loss mixed together.
And instead of letting the memory land and settle, I found myself circling it. Thinking, feeling, gripping, as if turning it over one more time might change the ending or soften the absence.
My hands stopped. Laundry paused. The present slipped.
Not peaceful remembering — but looping, stuck between love and longing.
That’s when I recognized it: I wasn’t honoring the memory.
I was ruminating — caught in the ache instead of resting in the gratitude.
And in that pause — standing there with a half-folded towel and a memory that suddenly felt too heavy — I realized how thin the line is between remembering and getting stuck.
Somewhere along the way, “working on ourselves” went from being a healthy habit to a permanent lifestyle category. Whole aisles in bookstores, podcasts, retreats, morning routines with 12-step journaling processes and herbal tonics… all dedicated to digging deeper into… ourselves.
And hey, self-awareness matters. Knowing your triggers, understanding your patterns, healing old wounds — that’s good, meaningful work.
But there’s a point where introspection stops being helpful and quietly turns into rumination — like we’re no longer discovering ourselves, we’re just circling with our own thoughts until we’re dizzy.
Introspection is like checking your mirrors while you drive.
Rumination is pulling over and staring into the rearview so long you forget to keep going... or where you were even headed in the first place.
And I get why it happens. Reflection can feel productive — even when we’re not actually moving forward. We tell ourselves:
“I just need to think it through a little more…”
“Let me replay that conversation one more time…”
“I’ll feel better once I figure out why I feel like this.”
"I've just got to process everything that has happened."
But eventually, processing subtly slides into marinating.
And marinating in our feelings doesn’t tenderize a thing. It just gets heavy.
How I tell the difference
For me, the shift from introspection to rumination usually shows up in these little ways:
• Introspection feels curious.
Rumination feels tight and anxious.
• Introspection has movement.
Rumination is a mental treadmill — lots of energy, no progress.
• Introspection says,
“What can I learn here?”
Rumination says,
“Why can’t I stop thinking about this?”
• Introspection ends in clarity.
Rumination ends in exhaustion.
And sometimes I don’t even notice I’ve crossed that line until I’m already looping.
Life has a way of nudging us backward like that — especially around tender dates or memories.
Grief has taught me this in its own way.
Some dates on the calendar invite deeper remembering, and on this one, I’m really noticing the line between reflecting and reliving.
There are moments I reflect and feel grounded — grateful for life and amazed at how God meets me in unexpected places and softens edges I didn’t even know were sharp.
And then there are moments when the thoughts come in circles. Not helpful, not healing — just heavy. More like an echo than a memory. Replaying difficult moments over and over on repeat in my head... no new insight or comfort, just feeling those hard feelings again and again.
That’s when I know I’m not processing or progressing anymore, I’m holding on a little too tightly.
Grief has its own rhythm — and sometimes the most loving thing I can do for myself is step back into today instead of walking around in yesterday.
What pulls me back into living
When I feel the rumination gears turning, these gentle reminders help:
• I ask — Is this thought bringing insight or just keeping me in place?
• Move my body — even a short walk shifts my headspace
• Pray instead of over-analyze
(God untangles things way faster than I do)
• Do one tiny real-world action
— fold a towel, dust around the TV, step outside with the dogs
Let a feeling pass instead of wrestling with it
Where do you notice that line for yourself — when honest reflection turns into looping thoughts? And when you catch it, what helps you hand it over instead of holding it alone?
Because healing doesn’t always happen when we sit with it longer. Sometimes it happens when we get up and live — even if we’re still carrying questions, or tenderness, or ache.
A quiet reminder
Self-reflection is a gift.
But so is fresh air.
And motion.
And conversation.
And noticing what’s still good right here, right now.
We don’t have to abandon introspection.
We just don’t need to live there permanently.
Glance inward, learn what you can, grow through the experience… then step back into life.
This is all really just me talking to myself - kind of a "note to self" in blog form. If it resonates with you in some way, then I’m grateful we get to walk through this kind of growth side-by-side. There’s beauty here, too — even if we’re still finding our footing as we go.
If you’ve made it to the bottom of this post, I’m guessing something here resonated—whether it’s navigating grief and growth, diving into natural wellness, or just trying to live a more intentional life in a fast-paced world.
This space is where I share what I’m learning (and unlearning), the tools that are helping me along the way, and the little things that bring joy, healing, and clarity—even on the hard days.
This space is where I share what I’m learning (and unlearning), the tools that are helping me along the way, and the little things that bring joy, healing, and clarity—even on the hard days.
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This isn’t about perfection or pressure. It’s about finding what supports us, what lights us up, and what brings us back to ourselves—together.
You’re invited to join my newsletter, Finding What Works—a weekly-ish note from me with practical wellness tips, nostalgic nods for GenX souls, and honest reflections from someone who’s still figuring it all out (but loves sharing the good stuff along the way).
This isn’t about perfection or pressure. It’s about finding what supports us, what lights us up, and what brings us back to ourselves—together.
Click here to subscribe and come along for the ride. I’d love to have you in my corner.
Have a question or something to share?
✨ My blog exists because I know what it feels like to keep everything jumbled in your head — like a messy pile of clothes you can’t sort through.
Writing it all down brings clarity, calm, and sometimes even healing answers I didn’t know I was looking for.
Honestly, that’s why I keep showing up to write — it helps me make sense of things.
Even if you have no intentions of ever publishing your work, I highly recommend writing stuff down. It doesn't have to be a literary masterpiece or even full, grammatically correct sentences... just dump those random thoughts onto paper... you'll see what I mean.
*This blog centers the GenX experience, simply because that’s the lens I live through—but anyone looking for connection, natural wellness, grief support, or a little real-talk in this messy stage of life is more than welcome.
