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Lately, I’ve been thinking about what it means to choose. Of course not in the grand, Instagrammable sense of life-altering epiphanies or dramatic leaps, but in the quiet, often unnoticed decisions that shape your days. May be it can be as simple as pushing myself for a five-minute morning stretch, writing gratitude, or just drinking coffee while looking at the morning sky while my cat purrs. It hasn’t looked productive and I prefer it that way…at least now I do.

It’s in the emails you don’t send, the ones you do without overthinking, the social invitations you decline, the boundaries you set any and all relationships. Sometimes it’s in choosing to cook a meal because your stomach is growling, and sometimes just because you “deserve” a treat. It’s showing up for yourself even when you’re exhausted. I’m obviously not consistent. Haven’t been for a while, but forgiving myself and trying again is also an act of choosing myself. Tiny acts, almost invisible, that quietly insist, I matter. My energy matters. My rhythm matters.

These choices often feel awkward, inconvenient, or plain boring. But cumulatively, they build a life that honours my own needs, rather than constantly bending over backwards to external pressures or expectations. I didn’t grow up with the mindset of choosing myself so my nervous system doesn’t reward me with the calm triumph…yet. But I’m showing up for myself for the first time in my life in ways that no one sees because they never ever did or understand. And may be that is the point.

Maybe it’s the slow accrual of these small choices that create a sense of alignment and commitment, and the courage to show up for bigger, more visible things when the time comes. So did I just crack the code to creative-conscious living? Of course not. But choosing yourself, day by day, in unglamorous yet luxurious and exhausting ways is quietly revolutionary.