Get out of the outside world (and your clothes)

First rule: the second I walk in the door, it’s goodbye to anything structured, tight, or remotely uncomfortable. I slide into my oversized loungewear, usually in some neutral tone that makes me feel like a minimalistic goddess with zero responsibilities.

It’s a full-body exhale. A signal to my nervous system: you’re safe now.

The light shift

Fluorescent lighting? Illegal in our house. I dim everything. Candles, Himalayan salt lamp, incense if I’m feeling a little extra earthy. Our apartment transforms from “place I exist in” to “soft little cave where nothing can touch me.”

The more the lighting feels like a meditation retreat in Tulum, the better.

The grounding snack and hydration ritual

Let’s not pretend I’m not craving something. I’ll usually make a herbal tea or a warm cacao with oat milk (comfort in a mug), and pair it with whatever feels grounding — sometimes that’s a bowl of berries, sometimes it’s just a piece of dark chocolate I pretend to eat slowly.

Always water.

A shower or bath that feels like a reset button

If I have time, it’s bath time — salts, oils, maybe dried lavender if I’m feeling ceremonial. If not, I’ll take a hot shower, slow and mindful, in dim lighting with good music.

It’s where I mentally wash off everything I absorbed that day — the opinions, the pressure, the “shoulds.” It’s not just hygiene. It’s energetic hygiene.

Screen off, senses on

Let’s be honest: I don’t always stick to this one, but I try to put my phone away after. The point is to stop consuming and start tuning in.

Sometimes that means journaling. Sometimes just lying on the floor like a cat in silence. Sometimes putting on a playlist that makes me feel like I’m in an indie French film.

Just… being. Feeling. Letting the day land.

Breathwork: where the real magic happens

I always end with breathwork — even if it’s just five minutes. It’s my nervous system’s favourite language. Some nights I guide myself through a pattern I know, other nights I let my breath do its own thing. The only rule is: I meet myself fully.

This is where I release. It’s where I come home to my body. To my truth. To the stillness underneath it all.

Gratitude before sleep

I don’t do forced gratitude. But even on the messy days, there’s always one thing I can thank life for — even if it’s just the smell of my pillow or the fact I made it through. I whisper it, softly. Almost like a prayer. Then it’s lights out, limbs relaxed, mind clear(ish).

So no, I don’t “bounce back” after a long day. I recover. Intentionally, slowly, softly.

Because burnout isn’t a badge of honour, and we weren’t put here to power through.

We’re here to feel, to glow, to resèt.