Before Coffee

My hips hurt this morning in that specific way that announces itself before I'm fully awake.

Before coffee

Before coffee. Before I've had a chance to negotiate with the day.

There is a version of me — the one I was trained to perform for a while — that would have gotten up anyway. Pushed through. Made the thing happen. Called it discipline.

That version of me

That version of me was very productive and deeply unwell.

These days

These days I lie there for a minute and I just — listen. Not in a spiritual bypassing way. Not in a "my body is a temple" way that makes chronic illness sound like a lifestyle choice.

Just actually listening.

Most mornings the answer is: this is going to be a slower day. Okay.

Some mornings the answer is: something is actually wrong. Pay attention.

I spent years not knowing the difference. Treating every signal the same — either powering through or collapsing — because I had never learned to hear the nuance.

Living in rhythm

That's what I mean when I talk about living in rhythm. Not a perfect morning routine. Not a symptom-free body. Not getting it right.

Just — learning, slowly, to hear what's actually being said.

And then — this is the part nobody tells you — believing it enough to respond.

That second part is the work

That second part is the work.