When Rituals Keep Us Steady

This week reminded me—again—that growth isn’t a straight line. You can be doing the work, stripping away the old, layering in new rituals, and still feel the ups and downs as life keeps moving. Progress doesn’t always look like soaring. Sometimes it looks like noticing when you’ve drifted and gently steering back.

I felt crowded these past few days—maybe it was the snow pressing in, maybe just the weight of winter—but my anxiety got louder than my calm. I kept asking myself, What changed? And then I realized: my rituals were interrupted. No morning hot tub. I hadn’t saged myself in a few days. Those small, steady practices I treat like a luxury were actually my anchors. Without them, I drifted. It affected me in ways I don’t love—shorter patience, edgier tone, energy that could spill into conflict if I’m not careful.

Here’s what I’m learning:

- Rituals matter most on the days we think we can skip them.

- Feeling better doesn’t mean “I’m done.” It means “Keep tending.”

- Catching myself sooner is an act of love—for me and for the people around me.

I’m not interested in shaming myself for slipping. I’m interested in noticing faster and returning softer. So I’m creating tiny backups for the days when the hot tub isn’t happening and the snow crowds in:

- Two-minute reset: hand on heart, hand on belly, ten slow breaths by the window.

- Heat anyway: hot shower, warm tea, or a heating pad while I breathe.

- Clear the space: if I can’t sage, I’ll open a door, light a candle, or play one grounding song.

- Gentle check-in question: “What do I need right now to be kinder?” Then I do one small thing.

If you’ve felt my edges this week, thank you for your patience. I’m learning to catch myself earlier, to choose calm sooner, and to protect the peace in the room, not just in my head.

A ritual is more important than we think. As soon a I started feeling better, I forget. This is my reminder—to remember. To keep tending the practices that keep me steady, especially when life gets loud.

I’ll be over here, breathing, steeping tea, and remembering that coming back counts. Always.