There was a time not too long ago when my mornings started with sweat, strength, and community. I would drop Frederick off at school and head to the fitness class of the day. I had rapport with the fabulous instructors, the playlists were bomb, and I spent my mornings with my fellow classmates lifting, stretching, and reclaiming our power before officially starting the day. I had a rhythm. On Saturdays that Frederick didn’t have an activity and I didn’t have a meeting, I’d get up for an 8:00 am Ballet Burn class and stay for a yoga flow right after. For about two years, I was in the groove—working out 4 to 5 times a week, hitting up my favorite classes at a spa that felt more like a sanctuary. The variety kept me engaged, the convenience kept me consistent, the movement kept me sane, and the community of women kept me accountable.

That routine was my anchor. It helped me carry the weight of work and mommyhood with a little more grace, a lot more endorphins, and a stronger back—literally and metaphorically.

Then came the election cycle. If you know, you know.

The chaos of campaign season collided with the chaos of my organization being toppled by its own board. Talk about whiplash. I was burned out, heart-bruised, and stretched thin. My mornings went from Pilates poses, free weights, and cooldowns to crisis management and caretaking. When I was finally able to return to my rhythm, I discovered that my beloved spa was about to get rid of its morning classes—the very ones that had built my consistency.

So I’ve been flailing, if I’m being honest. I’ve been floating between good intentions and the gravity of fatigue. I’ll even admit that personal bruises on my heart haven’t helped either. As a result, for most of this year, I’ve let the fitness part of my life sit quietly in the corner, waiting for me to come back to it, while at the same time, I’ve been letting stress and stagnant energy impact me in ways I can see and feel.

It’s time to do something about that.

I met with a dietitian about a week ago who gently let me know that I don’t eat enough. (Imagine that—trying to do all the things on a nearly empty tank.) I’m looking forward to working with her to create new habits that help me with my wellness goals. I’m learning to nourish myself better, not just with food, but with grace and planning. I’m making time to walk 3 or so miles before work some days ( I walk from my office to Arden’s Garden for a healthy breakfast and back) and I’ve started going back to class on Saturdays (again, when my schedule allows). It’s not five times a week—not yet—but it’s something. And that something is my gateway to finding a new rhythm.

This isn’t a “new year, new me” post. This is a mid-year memo to myself: Your body deserves consistency, not punishment. Your peace needs movement. Your joy lives in strength.

So I’m recommitting to my health, my energy, my fine. Not just the fine people see, but the kind of fine that makes me feel powerful in my skin again.

Baby steps. But I am stepping.

Soundtrack of My Life: I’m the Largest

(a lil explanation: I actually am the largest I’ve ever been in my life, AND this song with its beat and lyrics and flow helped me with my mental strength to keep going this morning in Ballet Burn when my muscles were screaming girl, whet is we doing and why?!)