The Grounded Glow

A gentle reminder for tired hearts and busy bodies

Lately, my creative engine has been running on high. There’s been so much beautiful, vibrant solar energy pulsing through: inspiration. New offerings. An energy of doing, creating, launching.

In a short stretch of time, I re-taught myself WordPress and launched two new websites, including this one, as well as one for my writing and coaching work.

It’s been exhilarating. Yet, I’m also being reminded that I can’t pour from an empty cup.

To give a little context, I grew up figuring out how to do everything by myself. I was walking to the grocery store, carrying food home and making dinner for my younger brother and me when I was 9 years old. (Classic GenX stuff.) As a teen, I used pamphlets to map bus routes and transfers, and found a summer job that let me save enough to buy a $500 car. Later, I put myself through college and grad school by taking out loans and juggling multiple jobs.

At 55, that core wiring hasn’t magically disappeared. I still know how to push. I still know how to handle things. I still know how to keep moving forward, especially when life gets uncertain (as it has become for me this year with a corporate layoff).

I’m stepping into entrepreneurship with real excitement and real heart behind it. And yet I can feel how easy it would be to slide right back into overwork without even calling it that.

The other night, I stayed absorbed in my laptop as my fiancé set plates of gnocchi and cannellini beans on the table for dinner. He didn’t seem annoyed. But something in me felt “off.”

I realized it was this: My actions didn’t align with my values. I personally don’t think it’s cool to let work interfere with meals, exercise, personal connection or self-care. It was a small moment, and also a very clear one. It made me realize I need rest and replenishment as much as I need creative drive and purpose. After all, a glow needs to be grounded. It’s right there in the name. 🥰

It wasn’t just the dinner table moment, though. There have been mornings recently when I was so deep in my laptop that I forgot to stand up, move my body, or even refill my water. In fact, I started this very post and planned to hit Publish before heading to yoga. (That old newsroom deadline energy is hard to drop.)

And then — I didn’t. I closed the laptop, put on my yoga pants and left the post unfinished. That choice, small as it was, felt like medicine.

Here are a few other ordinary things I’m learning to reclaim as sacred again:

• Reading a real book
• Listening to an inspirational podcast that steadies me
• Chores like cooking, gardening, cleaning and folding laundry
• Stepping outside to throw the ball for my dog for a while
• Walking in nature

None of these is a productivity strategy. They’re just ways to tell my body: You’re safe. You’re here. You don’t have to earn your right to rest.

I’m learning that balance isn’t something I have to perfectly optimize.

Oddly enough, the world keeps spinning when I slow down.