What I Tell Myself on the Hard Days (And Maybe You Need to Hear It Too)

We all have them—days that feel heavier, moments when the light seems just out of reach. On those tough days, I return to the basics.

What do I really need today to feel successful? Not in the world's eyes but in my own. Sometimes, success looks like crossing one thing off the list. Sometimes, it's just getting out of bed and choosing to try again.

I check in with my body. What is it asking for? A stretch? More water? Rest? Nourishment? When everything feels like too much, tuning into the physical brings me back to center.

Then I reflect. What's making this day feel hard? Is there something deeper at play? This gentle self-inquiry often brings insight—and that insight opens the door to grace.

One thought that often creeps in, especially on the hard days, is the comparison trap. We scroll through social media and see curated snapshots of someone else's life. The beach trip. The new job. The seemingly perfect relationship. And we think, "It must be nice."

But the truth is—those snapshots aren't the whole story. We don't see the struggles behind the scenes, the tears that came before the smile. Everyone is carrying something, even if they don't post about it.

Comparison is the thief of joy. So I ask myself: What brings me joy? What helps me feel connected to myself again?

It could be a quiet walk outside. Sitting on the front porch, letting the wind kiss your face. Maybe it's literally counting your blessings—mentally naming each good thing in your life, one by one. Perhaps it's binge-watching your favorite show under a blanket with zero guilt. Maybe it's silence. Or music. Or laughter with a friend.

There is something beautiful that happens when we honor what we truly need—without judgment. When we stop pushing and start listening, that's when the healing begins.

So, if today feels hard, give yourself permission to pause. You don't have to do it all. You just have to be. And remind yourself: You're doing better than you think. You are not alone. And this moment—this breath—is enough.