My Morning Routine Isn’t Rigid. It’s Ritual. (And Honestly? Sometimes It Starts With Doomscrolling.)
Everyone and their self-optimization spreadsheet wants to talk about morning routines.
And listen—I get the obsession. There’s something really seductive about the idea that if you just string together the right steps in the right order, you’ll unlock this hyper-productive, well-regulated, glowing version of yourself by 9:00 a.m. Like if you just blend the greens and journal the thoughts, you’ll ascend into some spiritual LinkedIn influencer who never forgets their vitamins or texts back late.
But for me?
Morning routines aren’t about discipline. They’re about honesty.
And, more often than not, they’re about self-trust with a splash of delusion and an proffer (yes, I’m that girl and I don’t care what you think— self-optimizing protein shake and coffee has been my life line).
Here’s what my morning actually looks like:
I wake up.
Sometimes I walk. Sometimes I scroll. Sometimes I stare at the ceiling thinking about whether or not I should move to the woods or text my ex. (I do neither, but the thought is part of the ritual, okay?)
Most days, I go for a 30-minute walk—not because I have to, but because it helps me feel like I’m in my body. Sometimes I pick the same street and pretend I’m in a little village in Italy. Sometimes I listen to podcasts. Sometimes I raw dog it with my own thoughts. Risky, but character-building.
Some days, I pick up my phone first thing in the morning.
Gasp.
I know. The productivity police just fainted. But instead of spiraling into shame, I pause and ask:
What am I actually looking for right now?
Do I feel more connected… or more like I’m spiraling in comparison hell?
Is this helping me feel creative, curious, calm? Or am I suddenly convinced I need a new personality and a better apartment?
If it’s a no, I put the phone down. If it’s a yes, I give myself permission to stay awhile. (I am the authority here, after all.)
I set gentle boundaries. Not timers.
Like: “Okay, scroll until 8:45 and then we’re going to make coffee and move our body like we’re the main character.”
Then I follow through. Not because I have to—but because it feels good to.
That’s what routine looks like when it’s rooted in self-trust. Not shame.
Everything becomes a little ceremony if you let it.
Making coffee? Ceremony. **stir clockwise to invoke, stir counterclockwise to banish 😉
Choosing a mug based on vibe? Sacred act.
Taking vitamins? A spell for future-you.
Lighting incense? Mood alchemy.
None of it’s about hacking my way to being better.
It’s about being with myself like I’m someone worth showing up for.
And lately? That’s the whole point.
Here’s the truth most of us don’t want to say out loud:
We say we value things like rest, creativity, presence—but if those values don’t live in our actual behaviors, they’re just concepts.
Aesthetic ideals. Pretty words on a Pinterest board.
If you say you value rest, but override your exhaustion every time something feels urgent—do you really value it?
If you say you value creativity but haven’t made anything for fun since 2020—are you sure?
We love to name our values.
But living them? That’s the hard part. That’s the part that matters.
And here’s where the psych nerd in me lights up:
Your brain is wired to conserve energy and avoid discomfort. So if your routines feel rigid, punishing, or disconnected from your actual why—your brain will find sneaky little exit strategies.
That’s why it feels easier to scroll than journal.
Why you “accidentally” clean your whole kitchen instead of going on a walk.
Why the meditation app starts feeling like an attack.
It’s not failure.
It’s your nervous system avoiding pressure dressed up as “self-care.”
But here’s the good news:
When you build in small wins—when your routines are honest, not performative—your brain starts wanting to return to them.
Because safety feels good.
And consistency feels easier when you’re not at war with yourself.
This is how sustainable routines are built.
Not through hacks. Not through hustle.
But through honest check-ins. Gentle pivots. A little humor and a lot of grace.
That’s what my mornings are about.
Not perfection.
Not productivity.
Not collecting little gold stars on a habit tracker.
But presence. Flexibility with a backbone. Self-honesty that doesn’t turn into self-punishment.
Some mornings I write.
Some mornings I walk.
Some mornings I drink my coffee in silence and don’t open my laptop until noon.
Some mornings I make a full to-do list and crush it by 10:30.
None of it means I’m better or worse.
All of it means I’m here.
And I’m building a life that’s rooted in what actually matters to me—not what the internet told me a “good morning” should look like.
Because when I really value something?
I let it be real. Not perfect.
Things I’ve been asking myself in my journal lately:
Are my routines serving my values or someone else’s expectations?
When was the last time I made a decision based on what felt true, not what felt right?
What would shift if I turned my routines into rituals instead of rules?
Where am I expecting structure to give me something only self-trust can?
P.S. If you’ve ever spiraled over not “doing your morning right”—babe, I made something for you.
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It’s for when you:
Don’t feel like going to the gym and need a hype-woman with receipts
Are spiraling over a relationship you know you’re outgrowing
Feel weirdly ashamed for being overwhelmed even though you’re doing your best
Basically, it’s emotional CPR for your nervous system.
And it’s $7/month until August 1st.
👉🏼 Subscribe here.
Because you don’t need another rulebook.
You need reminders that you’re already doing better than you think.
Okay, love you. Mean it.
Go make your coffee like it’s an act of rebellion.
xx
