Close-up of grass and pink flowers in sunlight with a dark, blurry background.

Anchors.

These aren’t habits, hacks, or performance tools.

They’re just things I return to when I feel disconnected, unclear, or a little too far from myself.

Not all at once.
Never perfectly.

But enough to keep me grounded in what matters.

Take a minute.

Not every thought needs a response.
Not every feeling needs to be fixed.

Sometimes the smartest thing I can do is sit still and wait for the real answer to show up.
And it usually does.

But only if we give it space.

Let go of the mask.

It’s easy to slip back into pretending.

Especially when you’re leading.
When people are watching.

But the longer you wear the mask, the harder it is to breathe.

These days, I try to name what’s real.
Even if it’s messy, even if it costs me something.

It’s never comfortable.
And rarely easy.
But it’s always worth it.

Stay human.

We don’t need more heroes. We need more humans.

That includes me.

So I try to stop chasing the polished version of myself, and show up as the one who’s here.

Flawed.
Learning.
Still doing the work.

Honour the cost.

Some lessons cost something to learn.
Some seasons take more than they give.

It’s tempting to skip ahead, to rush into the “lesson” or the “growth.”

But I’ve learned that healing doesn’t happen on fast-forward.

So now, I try to slow down and sit with it.
To respect the cost, and let it shape me.

Hold the bar.

This one’s not about perfection.
It’s about staying in alignment with the kind of person I want to be.

Even when it’s hard.
Especially when it’s hard.

And even more so when no one’s watching.

I don’t always hit the mark.
But I try to notice when I don’t.
Then try again the next day.

Let things be what they are.

Not every problem needs solving right now.
Not every discomfort means you’re broken.

Some things just are.

Letting them exist without needing to change them immediately is something I’m still learning.
But it’s a relief when I remember.

You don’t need to do all of these.

Or any of them, really.

They’re not rules.
They’re just reminders.

Sometimes I forget them all.
Sometimes I fall away from all of it.

But when I’m lost, or tired, or questioning what I’m even doing, this is where I start again.

For excavation. For coming home to myself.