Any season of pause is, without question, an awkward season. I am writing this from inside one.
My private practice closed October of 2024. And my pause, this season right now, is me working through what I want my next chapter as a speech-language pathologist to actually look like.
That is harder to sit with than I expected it to be.
The List That Said It All
When I looked honestly at my career trajectory, here is what it read: graduate school with young children, clinical fellowship with elementary and late middle school aged children, school-based SLP while doing mama duty, PRN work to earn more, associate in a boutique private practice to grow, school-based again after moving to a new state as a newly divorced SLP, virtual during the pandemic, in-home work to earn more as a newly single parent, adult day clinic, solo private practice, contract evaluation only, and then, for the first time, not working as an SLP in any capacity.
When I read that list, my honest first thought was: I have been everywhere and I feel like I have been nowhere. The longest I have stayed in any single placement was three years, and that happened twice. A rolling stone collects no moss. A rolling stone also does not get to lay roots, which is a harder truth to sit with.
What Pushing Has and Has Not Given Me
I am someone who has typically pushed ahead to the next thing without a lot of reflection between steps. Most of that pushing was necessary at the time. Single parent. Bills. Children. Survival. There is nothing wrong with a season of pushing when pushing is what the moment requires.
But push does not offer space for honest self-checks. It does not offer room for intentional growth. And when push becomes the only speed you know, you eventually find yourself on the other side of a long career wondering what you actually want, which is precisely where I am.
The research on the power of pausing is compelling. Harvard Business Review has covered it: deliberate pauses between tasks and transitions provide actual cognitive benefits. They allow the nervous system to reset. They create space for new ideas and new direction that simply cannot emerge when you are always in motion.
What I Know Right Now
Instead of focusing on what I do not know, I have started focusing on what I do know. I very much love being in a helping profession. I enjoy the middle to high school population. Their caustic wit and occasional sarcasm are genuinely my kind of energy. I prefer in-person therapy over virtual. I am open to adult cognitive care settings and plan to invest in continuing education there. I enjoy a flexible schedule now that it is just me and my Frenchie Lola at home.
That list is not nothing. It is actually a lot of useful information for the next chapter, and I only got to it because I stopped long enough to ask.
An Invitation for You
I am writing this for the SLP who is currently in a transition, whether it is voluntary or not. Whether you left a position, closed a practice, took a leave, or simply feel like you are between one version of yourself and the next one.
Offer yourself a pause whenever you can. Plan it. Schedule it intentionally, so it has the full weight of your purpose behind it. Being still does not mean being idle. Some of the most clarifying moments of my adult life have happened when I was not doing anything at all.
Your next chapter is there. Let yourself rest long enough to see it clearly.
