The Case for a Slow Morning (and What I Use for Mine)
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A warm cup of coffee in my favorite mug…
A warm cup of coffee in my favorite mug, the sun peaking through the trees in dusty pink and sherbet orange, and a few minutes before anyone needs me. I love to start my morning with intention.
Why slow mornings matter more when life is hard
For me, its important to have some time to myself in the morning, before breakfasts need to be made, backpacks need to be packed up, or kids need to run to the bus stop.
In the midst of treatment, quiet mornings were a good time to focus on other parts of life that weren’t related to medications, appointments, or procedures. These days, quiet mornings give me a moment to wake up, focus my thoughts, and write down my chaos list. I feel more prepared to tackle the day and what may crop up.
In the midst of grief, where I am straddling the stages of denial and anger, having a morning start that is peaceful and grounding helps me to focus on my day ahead and be more equipped for the instances where I am unexpected overcome with sadness or longing. I enjoy warm sips of coffee, while soaking in my “happy light” or the sunrise.
What “slow” actually means
I know social media feeds us an ideal of what a slow morning means, a fresh candle glowing in the background, a gorgeous glazed mug with steaming hot coffee or tea, a person in perfectly pressed matching pajamas with impeccable hair and makeup. Or a person geared up in a matching yoga set, preparing for yoga class with athletic greens in their thermos and a protein shake in the fridge. That’s not my reality. And its ok if that is not yours either, especially in hard times like infertility, grief, or transition.
For me, slow mornings are about intentionality. That can be a short practice or an hour of solitude before the chaos of the day. It is imperfect, but it is just for you.
For me, slow means having a cozy, grounded, intentional morning that sets my mood for the day. So, what do most mornings look like?
What I actually use
When I first get up, I slip on some fleece socks, trudge to the bathroom and soak my retainers. I put on my fleece robe and then, I head down the steps.
My husband usually gets up before me and turns our overhead LED lights on low using switches similar to these switches. The cozy lighting helps me to ease into my morning.
I grab my mug and fill it with coffee. I usually make a pot because I like to sip a few cups before getting the kids moving. I use a small porcelain plate that I inherited from my grandmother as a spoon rest, a spoon for mixing in my creamer or other treat, like creamed honey to enhance my coffee. I also love looking at the plate, its pretty and it reminds me of my grandma.
Once I have my coffee in hand, I crawl into my cozy Nicole Miller blanket, similar to this and turn on my SAD lamp to combat my seasonal affective disorder (in the winter), or enjoy the sunrise for the other three seasons. Sometimes I have a furry companion to keep me company.
I usually wake up with a flurry of thoughts, ideas, things to do swimming in my head. Once I am finally comfy on the couch, I grab my journal (this journal is similar to what I use, but with lots of color options) and favorite pens. I sit in the quiet and write my chaos list, all my thoughts, to-dos, things to buy. Anything that comes to mind, I jot down. Once I’ve run out of thoughts, I go through my list to pick a few priorities for the day or start my online grocery order. Everything else that remains on the paper is contained and no longer taking up valuable brain space for the day.
These rituals help set my day and give me time that feels all my own. Even in the midst of grief, this helps to keep me level.
How to start when you have nothing left
The day after my dad died, we woke up in an Airbnb. With all my feelings and thoughts swirling in my head, I was up early. I snuck out of the bedroom and made a cup of coffee, opened the window shades, and stood peering out the glass door onto the Potomac River as the sun rose, brightening the sky. It was quiet, the birds were only beginning to chirp, and a little steam rose from the water. A moment of peace. Its what I needed to start the day.
Peace, quiet, grounding.
Even away from home, I made it a priority to keep my slow morning practice.
What does your day like? Does it begin with chaos or quiet ritual? If you are in a hard season, be gentle with yourself. Set up practical expectations, whether its one thing or thirty minutes of ritual.
Do something for you to help set your day with intention.
If you want to start your morning with journaling, but have trouble beginning to write, check out my 30 Day Both/And Journal. This journal is chock full of reflections and prompts to guide you through your current season of life.
