Slow Morning Routine: Turns Out, Getting Back in Bed is an option

I didn’t post a blog post last week, just because it felt too forced. I haven’t even posted on my Instagram in over a week. The HORROR!

Why?

Honestly, it felt like performing, or more like needing to mark off another notch on my goal of 52 posts this year, or growing a following and having something to show for it.

A few weeks ago, I felt a deep pull to stop posting altogether.

And what did I do?

I posted about wanting to stop posting, how ironic is that?!?!

Deep down, I knew it was a distraction. It was the same old cycle: performing, pleasing, trying to measure up.

Trying to be liked. Trying to be everything for everyone, even though I preach that "you can't be everyone's cup of tea."

Funny to think full circle how my blog has morphed into a journey of ME trying, and many times failing, to live out my own tag line: Dial back the noise, focus on what truly matters.

I honestly saw this place as a way to teach others, but it is actually teaching me.

The Mask of People-Pleasing

Let me start from the beginning.

For many years, I have worn a mask, the mask of people-pleasing.

No matter how much I preach and lean into the idea that what other people think of me does not matter, it is something I truly struggle with.

I want to be liked.

I want to be known.

I want to be made for more.

Those are a lot of “I” statements – I KNOW!

I don’t think I have an ego to go along with these “I” statements, but honestly, at this stage of life, I am questioning that as well.

And let me be real clear: the mask has served me well.

I’ve made a name for myself. I’m well-liked, or at least I think I am.

I’m a people person and can work a room like it’s my job.

Oh, it is...

Performing While Falling Apart

Last year was a hard year.

I had a lot of stress. I competed in Dancing with the High Point Stars—literally performing.

Let’s just say... I will never do that again.

Then I lost a close friend.

Rather than grieving, I stuffed it and moved on to the next thing. It was International Women’s Day when she passed, and off I went to work an event. I showed up, put on my mask, and did what had to be done.

Never skipped a beat, but I was actually breaking inside. Or more like numb if I had to be honest.

By summer, life delivered more challenges. My kid had some tough moments, and I found myself teaching her how to show love and grace even while I was screaming inside. Jesus never said it would be easy to live like him.

If you didn't know my secrets, you would not have been able to tell, I kept it together.

Because people were watching.

When a hurricane hit the North Carolina mountains, my sanctuary, I woke up with shingles, yea, you read that right, shingles at the ripe age of 41.

Even then, I joked about it and kept working. Speaking of jokes, did you know they prescribe anti-herpe meds for that? Ha—I was way too happy when I went to pick up those meds.

I didn’t stop to rest. I didn’t stop at all. I was literally in my office on a video call with the doctor, questioning what was going on with the itchy spots on my hip.

Burnout and a New Beginning

By November, it was official: I was burnt out.

I was literally sitting in a personal development workshop on burnout, hosted by my job, and I was the visual aid for everyone to see.

How’s that for irony twice in one blog post?

That marked the start of me trying to let go and figuring out what I’m doing to get myself out of this mess.

So I started this practice: I get up early, grab the most delicious cup of coffee (homemade creamer and all), and crawl right back into bed.

Completely the opposite of the productivity experts.

I had tried all the things:

Working out? Nope.

Working to get ahead? Absolutely not.

I needed something easy.

So, there I go, hopping back in bed every morning since November.

We are six months in, and I have perfected the art.

My Slow Morning Routine

So I don’t just hop back into bed and drift back off to sleep; rather, I sip my coffee, read my Bible, talk to God, and just think.

It’s my quiet pause before the day begins. I call it my think time, and it’s honestly become one of the best parts of my entire day.

No phone.

No outside world trying to get in.

Just me and Jesus.

And through it, I’ve realized something:

Maybe all those years ago, when I envisioned myself 10 years down the road and all I saw was myself alone on a hiking trail...Maybe God knew something I didn’t. That I need to stop trying to perform and be okay with being me.

I don’t have it all figured out, but for now, this is where I’ve started. Maybe, just maybe, this quiet space with coffee and Jesus is just as sacred as any hiking trail.

And for today, that’s enough.