Seasons of Me - The Mindbliss Blog

Seasons of Me: Learning to Say No Without Apology

No one questions a tree when it loses its leaves.
We don’t accuse a garden of being unproductive when it lies fallow. We don’t shame seeds for being invisible underground.

And yet — how often do we shame ourselves for needing stillness, for saying no, for not blooming on cue?
For most of my life, I thought being unapologetically me meant being always on. Always available, always productive, always blooming. But the truth is: growth doesn’t look like that. Life doesn’t work like that. I don’t work like that.

I’ve come to see myself as a garden — constantly moving through seasons. And those seasons don’t follow a neat calendar. They vary in shade, intensity, and duration. Sometimes spring arrives quietly. Sometimes winter overstays. Sometimes two seasons live side by side in different parts of my life.
And through it all, I’ve learned that saying no is not selfish. It’s seasonal.

The Planting Season

Quiet Yes

These are the moments where I’m absorbing, learning, preparing — beneath the surface. Planting season is full of hope, but also solitude. It’s not flashy.

Here, my “yes” is gentle and intentional. I say yes to new ideas, but I protect the space around them. I say yes to nurturing, not rushing. Boundaries are the fence around my garden — not to keep people out, but to give what I plant a chance to root.

The Blooming Season

Full Expression

This is when I feel most seen. Aligned. I’m loud and present and fully expressed.

But blooming also takes energy. And sometimes people expect you to stay in bloom forever. I’ve learned that just because I can show up, doesn’t mean I should all the time. Saying no here might mean saying: “I’m visible, but I still need space.”

The Shedding Season

Necessary No

This is where I practice release. The pruning. The unlearning. The boundaries that feel like loss, but are actually growth.

Saying no here can feel heavy — especially when it’s to people or roles I’ve outgrown. But this is how I make room. This is how I honor what’s next.

I’ve learned to stop asking for permission to let go.

The Resting Season

Sacred Stillness

The world doesn’t often celebrate rest. It labels it lazy. Passive. Weak.

But in my garden, rest is sacred. It’s when things regenerate. When wisdom settles in my bones. When I say no not because I’m angry or overwhelmed, but because I simply need to be with myself.

Rest is not what I do after I’ve earned it. Rest is part of the earning.

There’s No One Way to Cycle Through

These seasons don’t follow a script. Sometimes I’m blooming in one area of my life and resting in another. Sometimes I loop back. Sometimes I don’t know what season I’m in until it’s already passed.

But what’s changed is this: I’ve stopped apologizing for not blooming all the time.
I’ve stopped forcing myself to stay in spring when winter is what I need.

My boundaries reflect my season — not my worth.
My no is not rejection. It’s recognition. It’s rhythm.

I am not here to be evergreen. I am here to be alive. And that means letting myself shift, shed, root, rise — and rest — again and again.