When Your Spark Flickers (and What It Teaches You About Yourself)

I’m writing this from a place I haven’t admitted I’ve been in for a while: I lost my spark. Not all at once and not in any dramatic way, but slowly, quietly, almost like a light dimming without warning. The past month felt heavy and foggy, and I caught myself searching for the version of me who usually feels steady, creative, connected, and full of purpose. For a little while, she was nowhere to be found.

But here’s the thing no one tells you about losing your spark: it shows you your own humanity in the rawest way. When life slows you down like that, you’re forced to sit with the parts of yourself you normally rush past — the tired parts, the overwhelmed parts, the self-doubting parts. Sitting with that version of yourself isn’t easy, but it does something important. It softens you. It teaches you. And honestly, it heals you.

This past month, I felt everything. The frustration, the doubt, the heaviness, the internal pressure to be okay, the fear of falling behind. I kept wondering if I had somehow lost myself. But somewhere inside that mess of emotions, something gentle started to rise again — a flicker, a warmth, a quiet reminder that my spark wasn’t gone. It was just resting. And slowly, it started to return.

It didn’t come back because life got easier or because everything magically worked itself out. It came back because I kept choosing to show up in small, imperfect ways. I kept trying again, opening my heart again, and reaching for others even when I felt empty. Every time I helped one person, every time I reminded someone they weren’t alone, I felt pieces of myself waking back up. It was like helping someone else handed me back a part of my own light.

I realized that the spark doesn’t return through perfection or productivity. It returns through courage — through the small, quiet decision to keep going. Sometimes healing isn’t a big comeback. It’s a slow re-lighting, a gentle “I’m still here,” a whispered “I’m trying,” an honest “I’m not giving up on myself.”

So if you’re in a season where your light feels dim, I hope you know this: you don’t lose your spark. It just gets tired when you carry too much for too long. And it always returns when you give yourself room to breathe. My spark isn’t blazing right now, but it’s glowing again, and that glow is enough. Because all I have to do is show up, breathe, and try to help one other person. Somehow, in doing that, everything becomes a little more okay.

Your spark is still inside you too — even if it’s quiet, even if it’s tired, even if it needs time. It’s coming back. And when it does, it will shine brighter because of everything you walked through to find it again.