Women need real moments of solitude and self-reflection to

Hear the wisdom of Barbara De Angelis, who spoke with clarity for the souls of countless women: “Women need real moments of solitude and self-reflection to balance out how much of ourselves we give away.” These words are not mere counsel, but a reminder carved from the deep struggles of those who have borne the weight of others upon their shoulders. For the nature of womanhood has so often been to give, to nurture, to sustain the lives of children, partners, families, and even entire communities. Yet the well that gives without pause risks running dry. And so the need for solitude and self-reflection is not luxury, but necessity, the sacred pause that restores life to the giver herself.

The meaning of this truth lies in the balance between selflessness and self-preservation. Too often, the world praises sacrifice, but neglects the silent danger that lies in constant giving without renewal. To sit in solitude is to hear the quiet voice of one’s own heart, a voice drowned out by the endless clamor of duty. To practice self-reflection is to gaze into the mirror of the soul, asking not, “What do others need of me?” but “What do I need of myself to remain whole?” These moments are as vital as food or water, for without them the spirit withers even as the body labors on.

Consider the story of Florence Nightingale, who gave her strength to the wounded soldiers of the Crimean War. Day and night, she tended their wounds, becoming known as the “Lady with the Lamp.” Yet even she, the great healer, recognized the necessity of retreat. In moments of exhaustion, she withdrew into silence to write, to pray, to regain the inner light that allowed her to continue her sacred service. Had she not honored her need for reflection, her lamp would have burned out too soon. Her example reveals that even the most devoted servants of humanity must guard time for their own replenishment.

This teaching resounds beyond individuals to entire societies. A people who demand endless labor from women—whether in home, field, or marketplace—yet do not allow them space for selfhood, sow imbalance in the very fabric of their community. For when women are denied rest and reflection, the whole family, the whole nation, suffers from the loss of their wisdom, creativity, and strength. Just as fields must lie fallow to yield richer harvests, so too must the soul of a woman be granted time to rest in silence, so that her giving may flow again with vitality.

The lesson is profound: one cannot pour endlessly from an empty vessel. To give authentically, one must first be rooted in strength and clarity. This is why the call for solitude is not selfishness, but wisdom. In silence, one gathers back the scattered fragments of the self. In reflection, one discovers again the sacred “why” behind the sacrifices made. These inner practices restore not only energy, but purpose, so that giving becomes not a burden, but a gift offered freely and with joy.

Therefore, let us draw forth practical guidance. Each person, especially each woman, should carve out sacred times of stillness. A quiet walk, a journal of thoughts, a moment of prayer, or even sitting alone in the soft glow of dawn—these are not idle acts, but life-giving rituals. One should guard these times fiercely, as one guards treasure, for they are the source from which all strength and generosity flow. And when the demands of others press heavily, remember that saying “yes” to oneself is often the truest way of saying “yes” to others in the long run.

So let this wisdom be carried into the future: to balance giving, there must be moments of solitude. To sustain others, one must first sustain oneself. Just as rivers are replenished by hidden springs, so too must the soul of the giver be replenished in silence. In this way, life finds its harmony, and the gifts of women—nurture, love, wisdom, and courage—will continue to shine upon the world, not as burdens carried, but as blessings freely given.