What is mindfulness, really?
A year and a half ago, I wasn’t meditating, sleeping well, or calm. I was burnt out and emotionally flooded. I had built a life that looked productive and successful from the outside, but I was running on fumes from the inside.
It has taken me time—real time—to come back to myself. I have had to sleep, learn how to take breaks, breathe, notice, and be in my body again instead of stuck in my head.
I’m not fixed by any means—that’s not the goal—but I am a work in progress. I am healing.
How did I stray so far from my center?
If you’re here, reading this, I’m guessing you’re curious. Maybe you’re craving something different. Maybe you feel the pull to slow down—but don’t know how. Maybe, like me, you’ve reached a point where your old ways of coping aren’t working anymore.
So, before we talk about mindfulness, let’s look at a few questions you might reflect upon. I could have used a list like this to remind me that my operating style wasn’t doing me any favors.
Are you tired but wired?
Do you constantly feel behind, no matter how much you get done?
Do you find it hard to sit still, even when your body is exhausted?
Are you waking up in bed with a tense body—when you want to feel relaxed?
Do you notice your neck and shoulders tightening as you head to your kid’s activity—even though it’s something you want to enjoy?
Is your breath shallow, your jaw tight, your thoughts racing?
Are you relentlessly trying to stay connected to your values—and feeling like you just can’t, given the pace or pressures of your current life?
If you answered yes to any of those, you’re not alone. And you don’t need to be more productive.
You need space.
Mindfulness is a practice.
We often hear mindfulness described as something serene or still—like you’re supposed to sit on a cushion in perfect silence with no thoughts. Let me tell you: that’s not what it looks like for me. And that’s not the real definition.
I understand mindfulness as intentionally paying attention to the present moment with curiosity and compassion.
It’s not about emptying your mind. It’s about being with what’s real—in your body, in your breath, in your experience—and not turning away.
That means mindfulness can be:
A 3-breath pause before replying to that frustrating email
Feeling your feet on the ground in a meeting
Consciously thinking about your physical body—how it’s positioned, how it touches your mattress—to shift from mental spinning or nighttime tension
Washing the dishes while just washing the dishes
Noticing that your shoulders are clenched—and softening them
Realizing you haven’t peed in three hours and actually taking a break
Saying, “I need a minute,” and stepping away from an unproductive conversation
Choosing rest—whether that’s a nap, a walk, or doing nothing at all (and not beating yourself up about it)
Mindfulness is listening to your center. And acting from that, listening with kindness and compassion for you.
A helpful resource.
One super helpful resource on my journey was the book, Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle by Emily and Amelia Nagoski. It explains something we’re never taught: stress is not the problem—getting stuck in the stress cycle is.
Our bodies are wired to complete the stress response with some physical or emotional release: movement, connection, rest, or creativity. Without the release, we carry the stress—sometimes for years.
Reading Burnout helped me stop blaming myself and start caring for myself. It also gave me a language for how I felt: chronically “on” but rarely at ease.
When we know better we do better.
Take it from me: I’ve held stress in my body for years. It didn’t just show up one day—it built up over time. And I’ve felt the effects in every direction—from my sleep to my energy to my ability to focus. I’ve even been diagnosed with chronic stress and deal with executive functioning challenges that come with it. Uff da.
So no—this doesn’t disappear after one or two Peloton rides or a long weekend away. Finding tools that work for you, specifically you, is the answer. This is a journey—a journey of presence, a journey of learning to listen, soften, and care for yourself over and over again.
And I don’t say that as someone who has it all figured out. I say that as someone who must show up and practice daily. Because mindfulness and self-compassion are not things that you master, they aren’t things you master—they’re things you return to; they're a practice.
One breath.
One choice.
One act of kindness toward yourself at a time.