Daily return to myself

There’s something powerful about consistency, but it’s not the kind of power people usually talk about.

Most people imagine consistency as discipline, as intensity, as this loud, unstoppable energy that wakes up at 5 AM, drinks black coffee and never misses a day. But the kind of consistency I’m learning isn’t dramatic like that. It’s quieter. Softer. Almost private.

It’s the kind of consistency that doesn’t need an audience.

It’s the kind that simply says: I’m still here. I’m still trying. I’m still choosing myself.

For me, that consistency is my daily workout.

And definitely not because I’m obsessed with being in shape. Not because I’m trying to impress anyone. Not because I’m chasing some unrealistic version of perfection. But because every time I move my body, something in my mind settles. Something inside me gets a little clearer.

It’s hard to explain unless you’ve felt it.

There are days when my head is full. Full of memories I didn’t invite. Full of feelings I can’t always name. Full of old wounds that still ache even when life looks 'fine' from the outside. And on those days, working out becomes more than exercise.

It becomes a reset.

It becomes a way to breathe again.

It becomes the only moment where I feel like I’m not stuck in the past, because my body forces me into the present. Into the now. Into the simple reality of effort, sweat, repetition and control.

And maybe that’s why I love it so much. Because trauma takes control away from you. But consistency gives it back.

Even if it’s just a little.

Even if it’s just for an hour.

When I work out, I’m not just training muscles. I’m training my mind to believe that I can keep going. That I can handle discomfort. That I can build something slowly, patiently, day by day, without needing a perfect moment to start. And what I’ve learned is this:

Consistency isn’t about being strong every day. It’s about showing up even when you’re not.

Some days I feel energized, motivated, unstoppable. Those workouts feel easy. Those days feel rewarding. But other days? Other days I don’t want to do it at all. Some days I’m tired in a way sleep can’t fix. Some days I feel emotionally heavy. Some days my thoughts are louder than my confidence. And still, I go. Not because I’m forcing myself. But because deep down, I know that this is love.

Real love.

Not the kind that only exists when things feel good, but the kind that stays when things feel messy. The kind that says: I’m going to take care of you anyway. That’s what my workouts have become: a form of self-respect.

A daily promise.

A ritual.

And slowly, without even realising it at first, I started noticing something else: the workouts weren’t only clearing my head, they were changing the way I saw myself.

Because every time I show up, I prove something to myself.

I prove that I am not weak. I prove that I am not lazy. I prove that I am not broken beyond repair.

And maybe most importantly, I prove that I don’t have to stay the person I was forced to become.

Read this again. Im sure we all hide is somewhere. It matters!

Let me tell you something. There’s a version of me that was built out of survival .A version that learned to stay quiet, stay small, stay guarded. A version that had to adapt to what others wanted. A version that learned to be who people needed me to be, just to keep peace.

And for a long time, I confused that version with who I really was.

But the truth is… I was never meant to live only in survival mode.

I was meant to live fully.

And consistency has become my bridge between those two lives.

Because consistency isn’t just about doing something repeatedly. It’s about;

Becoming someone repeatedly.

Becoming someone who chooses growth.

Becoming someone who chooses healing.

Becoming someone who chooses peace, even when chaos feels familiar.

It’s strange how the smallest daily habits can become the loudest form of self-love.

People think healing is always emotional. They think it’s always therapy and tears and talking and unpacking everything. And yes, those things matter.

But sometimes healing looks like doing what you said you would do.

Sometimes healing looks like keeping your word to yourself.

Sometimes healing looks like putting your shoes on and going anyway.

Because every time I do, I’m telling myself: You matter. Your future matters. You’re not just trying to survive anymore.

And that’s why I’m trying to be better, not just now, but tomorrow too.

Not for validation. Not for approval. Not for anyone watching.

But because I deserve to meet the version of myself that I’ve always been capable of becoming.

I deserve to live without constantly fighting the past.

I deserve to love myself without conditions.

And that’s another thing consistency has taught me: I don’t want to love myself only when I’m 'perfect.'

I don’t want to love myself only when I’m productive. Only when I’m impressive. Only when I’m achieving.

I want to love myself for who I am.

Not for who they wanted me to be. Not for who the world tried to shape me into. Not for the version of me that existed just to be accepted. Just me, the real me. The one who is still healing. The one who still has days where it’s hard. The one who still carries the past but refuses to be defined by it.

Consistency, for me, is proof that I’m choosing my own life.

It’s proof that I’m not giving up on myself.

And maybe that’s what loving something truly looks like, coming back to it, again and again, even when it would be easier to disappear. Even when it would be easier to stay in the old patterns. Even when it would be easier to stay the same.

But you know what? I don’t want easy.

I want real.

I want growth that lasts.

I want peace that doesn’t depend on perfect circumstances.

So I keep showing up. I keep training. I keep building a version of myself that I can respect.

Not just today. But tomorrow. And after tomorrow too.

Because healing isn’t a moment.

It’s a lifestyle. My lifestyle.

And consistency is how I prove to myself that I’m worth the effort.

What about you?

Until next time, S.