A picture of me
There was a time I only paid attention to my body when it started indicating signs, during headaches, when the exhaustion settled in, when everything in me slowed down without permission, that was when I called it care. Coming to the realisation of it, I finally stopped that form of care
Now, I don’t wait for that version of me anymore.
I take care of myself when nothing is wrong. When there’s no pain to justify it, no visible reason to pause, no external sign that I should slow down.
I’ve learned that neglect is quiet at first, it doesn’t start with collapse, it starts with small things I ignore daily.
So my mornings are no longer rushed, they are claimed.
Before anything demands my attention, I give myself a moment. After waking up, I drink some water to stay hydrated, and sit in stillness, even if it’s brief.
Some days I stretch, some days I don’t, but I check in with myself. Not what I have to do, not what the day expects, but how I actually feel. That check-in shapes everything that follows.
During the day, I don’t push blindly anymore. I used to think strength meant ignoring discomfort, skipping meals, and pushing through fatigue. Now I understand the cost of that. So I eat when I should, i pause when I need to and I step away, even when there’s more to do.
Because, I learnt that running on empty doesn’t make me productive, it just delays the crash
My mind gets the same kind of attention in that not every thought deserves to be carried and not every problem needs an immediate solution.
I write things down, I slow things down, and sometimes I let things wait. I no longer treat every mental weight like it must be held all at once
Evenings have become more intentional, I don’t drag the entire day into the night anymore. I reduce the noise, limit distractions, and create space to settle. I eat, clean up, and prepare myself for rest. Sleep is no longer an afterthought, it is part of the routine
And then, my body shifts and adapts to it
Every month, there’s a phase where my energy drops, where everything feels slower, heavier, and more sensitive (monthly visitor). I used to resist it, to force myself to maintain the same pace. Now, I adjust, resting more, simplifying my tasks, and choosing comfort over pressure
I don’t perform strength during those days, I protect it.
This is what my routine has become, not perfect, nor rigid, just consistent attention. I no longer wait for my body to break before I care for it.
I show up daily, in small ways, while everything still feels fine because that is what truly keeps me well