I don’t have it all figured out. I’m not waking up at 5 a.m. with a perfect routine, drinking green juice, doing yoga on a balcony. Most mornings, I’m just trying to pull myself out of bed without scrolling through my phone for an hour and spiraling into existential dread. Some days, I don’t even manage that.
But here’s the thing—I’ve learned that I don’t need a perfect routine to take care of myself. I just need moments. Small, imperfect, sometimes messy moments of care. Little pockets of softness in the middle of everything else.
So, no—this isn’t a list of beautifully curated rituals. This is just a glimpse into what I try to do on mornings when I want to treat myself a little more gently. Not every day, not always well, but often enough that it makes a difference.
I Try Not to Grab My Phone Immediately (But Sometimes I Do)
Let’s just get this one out of the way: I know the “don’t check your phone first thing” advice. I know. But honestly? Some mornings, my phone feels like a lifeline—something to distract me from the heaviness that sometimes sits on my chest before I even sit up.
But on better days, I wait. Even if it’s just for five minutes. I lay there and let myself exist quietly. No headlines. No noise. Just me, the ceiling, and the thought that maybe today doesn’t have to start in a rush.
Sometimes I just stare at the wall and breathe. Sometimes I put a hand on my chest and just feel my heart beating. That alone is enough of a win for me.
Moving My Body a Little (Even If It’s Just Stretching in Bed)
I don’t always get up and do full stretches. Some days I’m too tired. Some days I just don’t feel like it. But when I do manage to move—even a little—it helps.
It could be a simple twist while I’m still lying in bed. Maybe circling my ankles, shrugging my shoulders, reaching my arms over my head and just letting out a big sigh. It’s not “exercise,” but it feels like a quiet conversation with my body. Like I’m saying, Hey, I see you. Thanks for being here.
Sometimes I roll out a yoga mat. Most times I don’t. But if I move—even for a minute—it shakes off some of the heaviness.
Sitting in Silence, Even for 30 Seconds
There are mornings when I can’t bring myself to meditate or journal or do anything “productive.” But I can sit. I can close my eyes for a few seconds and just… be.
No music. No timer. No deep insights. Just quiet.
Maybe I place my feet on the floor and feel their weight. Maybe I take one full breath and let it out slowly. That breath alone feels like something sacred on days when everything else feels scattered.
Washing My Face Slowly
This one’s surprisingly grounding. On mornings when I feel disconnected or numb, I go to the sink, splash cold water on my face, and wash with gentle soap.
It’s a ritual, even if I don’t call it that. I watch the water run through my hands, feel it against my skin, and try to be present with that moment.
Some days I whisper to myself: You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re doing your best. Even if I don’t fully believe it, saying it helps.
A Warm Drink I Don’t Rush Through (If I Can Help It)
Whether it’s tea, coffee, or just hot water with lemon—if I can make myself a warm drink and actually sit with it, it shifts something in me.
I don’t always sit in silence. Sometimes I stare at the mug while my mind races. But the warmth of the cup in my hands? That feels grounding. Human. Like proof that I’m here. That I’m allowed to start slow.
If I’m lucky, I take it near a window. Watch the sky. Let light in. Or just sip with the curtains still closed and remind myself that the day doesn’t need me to rush into it.
Journaling When I Have the Words
I don’t do this every day. Sometimes writing feels like too much. But when the feelings are swirling, when I wake up heavy, writing helps.
It’s not pretty. Not the “dear diary” kind. It’s usually messy and raw. Sometimes angry. Sometimes tired. Sometimes just a list of how I’m feeling:
- Numb
- Anxious
- Lonely
- Weirdly okay?
Letting it out, even if it’s just one sentence, creates space in my chest. It helps me put the swirling mess somewhere other than my brain.
And on the rare days I reread what I wrote, I feel proud of that past version of me—because she didn’t push it down. She let it out. She made space.
Making Peace with “Not Productive” Mornings
This might be the biggest shift for me.
I used to beat myself up for not having a structured morning routine. For not “maximizing” my mornings. For waking up late or lying in bed too long or just… not doing enough.
But these days, I’m learning that rest is not laziness. That softness is not weakness. That sometimes the most powerful thing I can do is let myself be where I am—without rushing to change or fix it.
If the only thing I do is make my bed and breathe deeply once, that’s enough. If I move slow and speak gently to myself, that’s enough. If I don’t do anything at all but survive the morning, that’s more than enough.
Letting the Day Be What It Needs to Be
I don’t always start the day with a plan or an intention. I don’t always have clarity. But I try to whisper something to myself before I begin:
Let this day be what it needs to be. Let me be who I am today, without shame.
Sometimes that means being productive. Sometimes it means crawling back into bed for a while. Sometimes it means crying before breakfast and laughing at lunch.
I’m not aiming for perfection anymore. I’m aiming for gentleness. And trust me, that’s more than enough.
In Case You’re in the Same Place
If your mornings are messy or hard… if you wake up tired or sad or just uncertain… if your “rituals” are more like soft intentions than structured routines—same. You’re not alone.
You don’t need to have it all figured out to care for yourself. You don’t need candles or fancy routines or even consistency. You just need a few moments of honesty. A little softness. A small pause where you ask yourself, What do I need right now?
That’s all I try to do. Some days I answer. Some days I don’t. But asking is already an act of care.
So here’s to mornings that don’t always make sense. To trying again tomorrow. To showing up, even when it’s messy.
And to the quiet, powerful choice of being kind to yourself—even when it’s the hardest thing to do.
Ayerhs Magazine 