Morning Exercise: The Importance of Movement
Mornings are often a mixed bag for me. There’s that initial resistance when the alarm goes off, the temptation to roll back under the covers and convince myself I can skip today’s workout. But I’ve learned that these first moments are crucial — not just for my body, but for my mind.
Getting up and moving, even if it’s just for 30 minutes, helps me create some space between sleep and the day ahead. It’s not about pushing limits or running a marathon — it’s about setting an intention for the day. Whether it’s a brisk walk, a quick run, or some light stretching, this small act of moving my body helps clear the mental fog. I find that without it, my thoughts feel more scattered, and I’m more prone to distraction.
There’s something grounding in just feeling my body work. The rhythm of my breath, the stretch of my muscles — it’s simple, but it centers me. It’s the foundation for everything else that follows. I’ve learned that when I skip this step, the rest of the day tends to feel off. Movement in the morning is my reset button, helping me approach whatever comes next with a clear head and a calm heart.
Preparing for the Day: Setting Intentions, Not Just Schedules
After my workout, I make tea — a habit that’s simple but important. It’s not about rushing into my emails or checking my calendar right away. Instead, I take a few minutes to breathe, to take a sip of my tea, and to settle into the quiet of the moment. This is the time I allow myself to check in with how I’m feeling, to notice if there’s any lingering tension or anticipation about the day ahead.
I often find myself reflecting on what I’m about to face, not just in terms of meetings or tasks, but emotionally. Coaching and therapy aren’t just about techniques or frameworks. They’re about connecting with people, holding space for their struggles, and offering a safe place for exploration. So, I remind myself that my role is to show up as fully as I can. Not perfect, but present.
I glance over my schedule for the day, but it’s not about rigid planning. It’s more about setting a loose intention. It might be something as simple as “I want to approach these conversations with empathy and patience” or “Today, I’m focusing on active listening.” These little reminders help guide me, but they’re flexible — because the reality of the day often unfolds in unexpected ways.
The Flow of the Day: Embracing the Natural Rhythm
As the day progresses, things tend to flow in a rhythm. Some parts feel effortless — the moments when a conversation clicks, when someone expresses a breakthrough, or when a light bulb goes off. And then there are times when it feels like I’m paddling upstream, where the words don’t come as easily, and I have to work a little harder to stay grounded.
It’s in these moments, though, that I’m reminded of why I do this work. Coaching and therapy are not about having all the answers. They’re about being present in the moment with the person in front of me. Sometimes the biggest insights come from just being there — from creating a space where someone feels safe enough to explore their own thoughts, even when they don’t have all the answers either.
I can tell when someone is grappling with something bigger than just their surface concerns. Maybe it’s not an obvious crisis, but there’s this quiet sense of unease. It’s a look in someone’s eyes or the way they hesitate when they talk about their future. Maybe they’re caught up in their routines and distractions, or maybe they feel disconnected from what really matters to them.
These aren’t always huge, dramatic moments. Often, they’re subtle. It’s in the way someone starts to speak about their life — a slight shift in tone, a word or two that gives away more than they intended. I pay attention to that. It tells me they’re ready to dig deeper, even if they don’t know it yet. They don’t need answers right away. They just need someone to listen.
Midday Break: Stepping Away for a Moment of Clarity
Around midday, I try to take a break, even if it’s just for 10 or 15 minutes. It’s tempting to keep going, to power through the day’s sessions and tasks, but I’ve learned that I can’t be my best self unless I step back for a bit. This isn’t just a physical break; it’s a mental one too.
Sometimes, I step outside and take in the air. Sometimes, I’ll just sit quietly, allowing my mind to wander. Whatever it is, the point is to pause and reset. It’s a chance to let go of any residual energy from a session, to shake off anything that may have lingered from the morning’s work. I try not to rush back into the day, but to re-enter it with clarity and intention.
I’ve noticed that when I take these small moments to step away, I come back to my work with fresh eyes and an open heart. It’s about staying connected to myself as much as I am to those I’m helping. Without those pauses, the work becomes draining instead of nourishing.
Late Afternoon: The Unseen Work and Reflection
By late afternoon, I’m usually feeling a mix of satisfaction and quiet fatigue. Not from physical exhaustion, but from the emotional energy that’s been exchanged throughout the day. People don’t just share their successes and wins with me — they also share their vulnerabilities, their struggles, and the parts of themselves they may not always show the world.
It’s this part of the work that often sticks with me — the moments when someone is brave enough to open up, to acknowledge something they’ve been avoiding or grappling with. And in those moments, I’m reminded that I’m not here to provide all the answers. I’m here to help people get in touch with their own wisdom, to offer a place where they can begin to make sense of their own story.
I spend some time reflecting on these sessions. I don’t analyze them immediately, but I let them settle for a while. There’s something powerful about giving space to a conversation after it’s finished. The insights can sometimes come later, in the quiet moments when I’m no longer “in the work” but just reflecting on it.
End of Day: Releasing and Resetting
When the day finally winds down, I take a few moments to close my laptop, tidy up my space, and breathe. It’s not a grand ritual, but it’s a gesture of closing the day. I don’t dive straight into distractions or fill the silence. Instead, I take a minute to acknowledge how the day went — the moments that felt meaningful, the moments that were harder, and everything in between.
As I get ready for tomorrow, I remind myself that this work is a continuous cycle. Every day is a new opportunity, a new chance to be present, to listen, to hold space, and to keep growing. Tomorrow will be a bit different, as each day is, but for now, I’m content with the work I’ve done. There’s no rush to get anywhere — just the satisfaction of showing up.
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