What pausing taught me about writing, healing, and what success actually means
On August 30th, I was scrolling on my phone, checking where my book stood. Nothing dramatic. Just a quiet moment on an ordinary morning.
And there it was.

Nurture Your Worth at #1 in Amazon Top New Releases. #2 in Inner Child. #7 in Self-Help for Abuse. Bestseller status in multiple categories.



I sat with it for a long moment. I was grateful — truly, truly grateful. But what surprised me was that the gratitude was not really about the numbers. It was about everything the previous two years had asked of me to get to that screen.
This is that story. Not the highlight reel. The whole walk.
Year one: learning to write the book I was carrying
I did not sit down one day and produce a book. I sat down and learned how to produce a book, which is a very different thing.
My mentor, Michael Stevenson, taught me the skills. Structure. Voice. How to take what lives in a session with a client and shape it into something a stranger can hold in her hands at midnight when she cannot sleep. I had been doing this work for years. Teaching it on a page is its own craft, and I had to be a beginner again.
I want to name that honestly, because so many high-achieving women stall right there. We are so accustomed to being competent that being a beginner feels unbearable. I had to let myself be a beginner in public, in front of a mentor, at this stage of my career.
The pause: two months of not writing
And then, somewhere in the middle of it, life reordered my priorities.
Other things needed me. Real things, important things, things I was not willing to give half of myself to. So I made a decision that felt uncomfortable at the time: I put the manuscript down. For a couple of months, I did not write a single word.
The old version of me would have white-knuckled it. Written at 4am on top of everything else, exhausted, resentful, calling it discipline. I know that pattern intimately, and I know exactly what it produces: work that is technically finished and emotionally hollow.
So instead, I paused. And I reflected.
A pause is not the same as quitting. A pause is a decision. Quitting is a disappearance.
That distinction is everything. When I paused, I did not abandon the book — I chose, consciously, to give my full attention to what was in front of me, and to return to the book when I could give it my whole self. I told myself a date would come. I did not know which one.
What I did not expect was how much the pause would give back. The reflection I did in those two months changed the book. I came back with more compassion in my writing, because I had just lived through a season of choosing people over output. I came back understanding my own material more deeply, not less.
Going back: small, intentional steps
Returning was harder than starting. Anyone who has stepped away from a big project knows this. The blank page has grown teeth.
So I did not try to sprint back. I took small, intentional steps. One section. One paragraph. One conversation with my editor. Some days that was all there was, and I let that be enough.
This is the turtle in my work, and I lived it in my own project: every step you intentionally take is ONE STEP CLOSER to your goal. Not the fastest step. Not the most impressive step. The intentional one.
Small steps, taken on purpose, compound into a published book. They also compound into a healed nervous system. The mechanism is identical.

The part nobody warns you about: getting triggered by your own book
There were several points in this journey where the writing triggered me.
I was writing about worth, about the inner child, about what happens to a person who learns early that she is only valuable when she is useful. And the material did not stay on the page. It came for me. There were chapters I could only write in short sittings because my own body had opinions about them.
I could have edited around those places. Written the safer version. Stayed in the role of the expert who has already arrived.
I am so grateful I did not.
The chapters that cost me the most are the ones readers write to me about.
That is not a coincidence. Readers can feel the difference between a writer describing a wound and a writer who went back into hers to get the words. The discomfort was the tuition. The depth was what I bought with it.
And I want to say clearly: I did not do this alone or unsupported. I had my practices. I had my people. Going into difficult material without support is not courage, it is carelessness. Being resourced is what made it safe enough to be honest.
Elayna, and the humility of being edited
My book publishing coach/editor, Elayna, guided me through this entire journey. If you have never been thoroughly edited, I will tell you what it is: a masterclass in non-attachment.
You write a sentence you love. Someone who knows better tells you it is not serving the reader. And you have a choice — defend your ego, or serve the person who will one day read this.
Every time I chose the reader, the book got better. Every single time.
The night before the launch
The night before Nurture Your Worth went live, I did something that I now believe was the most important decision of the entire two years.
I prayed. And I said, in effect: I have given my 110%. I have followed the instructions my coaches gave me and I have executed them with intention. I have reached out to my friends, my clients, my family, and asked them to stand with me. There is nothing left that I know to do.
Whatever the result is, I accept it. Even if this book never becomes a bestseller. Because I know it will reach readers, and I know what it will do for them when it does.
And I meant it. That is the part I want you to hear. It was not a spiritual performance to manipulate an outcome. It was a genuine release. I surrendered the result to God, to the universe, and I went to sleep at peace.
Surrender is not giving up. Surrender is doing everything in your power and then letting go of your grip on what you cannot control.

August 30th
Which brings me back to that morning, and that screen.
Here is what I noticed about my own reaction, and why I am writing this post at all: the peace did not arrive with the rankings. The peace arrived the night before.
The rankings were a beautiful confirmation. They were not the source. If the numbers had been different that morning, I would have felt disappointment — I am human — but I would not have felt like a failure. Because I had already decided, before the results came in, what this whole thing was for.
What I now know success is
Success is not somebody calling you a bestselling author. It is not an award, a badge, a rank, or a stranger validating you in a comment section. Those things are lovely. They are not the measure.
Success, for me, is this:
- I gave 110%. Everything I had, on the parts I could actually control.
- I followed through. I did what my coaches told me to do, and I executed it with intention rather than with anxiety.
- The book will help someone. It will land in the hands of a woman who has spent her whole life proving her worth, and it will offer her another way.
By that definition, Nurture Your Worth was already a success on August 29th. The bestseller status simply meant it would reach more of the people it was written for. And that is worth celebrating loudly.
The five lessons of the two years
- ✨Pausing is a strategy, not a failure. Choosing to give your full self to what matters most in a given season is not abandoning your dream. It is protecting it.
- ✨Reflection during a pause is not wasted time. What I learned in those two months made the book better than uninterrupted writing would have.
- ✨Small intentional steps outperform inconsistent bursts. One paragraph, chosen on purpose, beats a heroic weekend followed by three weeks of nothing.
- ✨The work will ask you to grow. If your project never triggers you, you may not be going deep enough to help anyone.
- ✨Define success before the results come in. Whoever defines success after the fact will always be at the mercy of the scoreboard.
If you are in the pause right now
If you are sitting in the middle of something unfinished — a book, a business, a degree, a healing process — and you have set it down, I want to offer you this.
Ask yourself honestly: did I pause, or did I quit? A pause has a reason and an intention to return. If you paused, you are still on the path. You have not lost anything. You are simply walking a different section of it right now.
And when you go back, do not try to make up for lost time. Take one intentional step. Then another.
Two years, one pause, several difficult chapters, and a great many small steps — and then a morning where I sat with my phone in my hand and felt genuinely, quietly grateful.
You are closer than you think.
Be the Light.

Nurture Your Worth is available now on Amazon — #1 in Top New Releases, #2 in Inner Child, and #7 in Self-Help for Abuse.
Aruna Ramamurthy is an International Board-Certified Neuroscience-Based Emotional Success Coach, Master Clinical Hypnotherapist, TEDx speaker, and author. She works with high-achieving women who have outgrown the belief that their worth is something they must earn.
Leave a comment