What Started Heavy Ended Holy
I woke up braced…and went to be in peace.
I woke up in a terrible mood this past Tuesday.
Not dramatic. Not catastrophic. Just… heavy.
The night before had been full of uneasy dreams — safety dreams. Robbery dreams. Dogs getting hurt. That low-grade undercurrent of “stay alert.”
I woke up already braced.
Graeme was running late, which made me late.
Emails from teachers.
A schedule that felt packed.
Money things hovering in the background.
The world generally feeling like it’s on fire if you open social media for more than five minutes.
It felt like too much before 8:30am.
And I could feel the spiral starting.
The Undercurrent
It wasn’t just one thing.
It was:
tension that hums quietly in the background
worry about Graeme’s friendships
finances and medical decisions
political noise and cultural chaos
the exhaustion of always being the steady one
Sometimes the heaviness isn’t a headline moment.
It’s just accumulation.
And I felt cranky. Short. Tired. On edge.
The Pivot
Instead of pushing through it, I did something different.
I turned on worship music.
Not because I felt holy.
Because I felt human.
At first, nothing changed.
Then slowly, something softened.
A song came on about how we all have mountains and valleys — and how maybe the answer isn’t fixing everything, but staying humble and kind. Saying please. Saying thank you. Looking people in the eyes. Opening doors.
Simple things.
And something about that simplicity steadied me.
Not because my problems disappeared.
But because my perspective shifted.
Movement Heals More Than We Think
Then I went to teach my favorite adult class at Cooper.
And I cannot explain it — maybe it was the cardio, maybe it was the humans, maybe it was both — but my joy bucket filled up.
When I teach, I feel alive.
Seen.
Encouraged.
Useful in the healthiest way.
Then Pilates.
Then counseling.
Then my babies and All Abilities.
Then sauna and bed.
What started heavy ended up being okay.
Actually… better than okay.
What I’m Learning
A bad morning does not have to become a bad day.
An undercurrent of fear does not mean danger is present.
My nervous system can start in protection mode and still end in peace.
And maybe most importantly:
Joy is not always found in the places we expect.
Sometimes it’s found in movement.
In community.
In serving.
In music.
In showing up.
And that doesn’t mean something is wrong with my life.
It means God scattered grace in more places than one.
The Real Miracle
Nothing dramatic changed yesterday.
My marriage is still complex.
Graeme is still navigating friendships.
The world is still noisy.
But I changed.
I chose:
worship instead of scrolling
movement instead of rumination
gratitude instead of grievance
