The Year of Nourish: Trading Empty Routines for Filling Rituals

Looking back at the last few years, I see a clear, almost inevitable progression in the "Words of the Year" that have guided me.

Three years ago, I needed to just stop; my word was Pause.

Two years ago, I needed to find my breath again; my word was Renew.

Last year, I needed to tend to the broken bits; my word was Mend.

It feels like I have been in a long cycle of recovery—a necessary triage for a busy life…. the hamster wheel just keeps on moving. But as I stood on the threshold of this new year, I realized the emergency phase is over. The stitching is holding barely but it is. I don’t need more repairs right now.

What I need is sustenance. I need depth. I need to take this mended self and ensure it doesn't just survive, but actually thrives.

My word for the year is Nourish.

The Workaholic’s Dilemma

As a self-proclaimed workaholic… I come from a longline, "nourish" is a complicated word for me. It sounds soft. It sounds like slowing down, which my brain often interprets as "lazy."

For years, my operating mode has been output, output, output. I have worn my productivity like a badge of honor, deriving my sense of self from how much I could cross off a list in a day. I became highly efficient at running on fumes, convincing myself that the adrenaline of the hustle was the same thing as fuel.

It isn't.

I realized that you cannot constantly harvest from a field that you never water, or fertilized.

Eventually, the soil turns to dust. "Nourish" is my commitment to watering the field.

Routine vs. Ritual: The Critical Shift

In embracing "Nourish," I’ve had to examine how I spend my days. As a workaholic, I love a routine. Routines are efficient. They are the "what" we do: wake up, coffee, email, work, sleep. They run on autopilot and get things done.

But a life built only on routine is brittle. It’s functional, but it isn't fulfilling.

If routines are the skeleton of our days, rituals are the heartbeat.

A routine is drinking coffee while scrolling my phone to wake up.

A ritual is drinking coffee by a window, without a screen, taking five minutes to just be before the day demands my attention.

A routine is instagram post because it’s on my schedule and we’ve been told you must post more. I am committed to not allowing screen time or social medias pressure, feel forceful.

A ritual is lighting a candle, opening a specific notebook, and writing to connect with myself.

The actions might look identical from the outside, but the intention behind them is different. Routine drains; ritual replenishes. This year, I am interested in turning my hollow routines into nourishing rituals.

The Return to Morning Pages

To anchor this year of nourishment, I am returning to a practice that saved me once before, but one I abandoned when life got "too busy": Morning Pages.

For those unfamiliar with the concept (made famous by Julia Cameron), it is simple: three pages of longhand, stream-of-consciousness writing, done first thing in the morning. There is no wrong way to do it, other than to not do it.

To my workaholic brain, Morning Pages feel agonizingly inefficient. They aren't for publication. They don't solve an immediate work problem. They take 30 minutes that I could use to "get ahead" on emails.

But that is exactly the point.

Morning Pages are the anti-hustle. They are a safe container for my to-do list, my petty grievances, my half-baked dreams, and my brain fog. By dumping all the mental clutter onto the page first thing in the morning, I am clearing space. I am showing up for myself before I show up for the world.

It is a daily act of tending to my own inner landscape before the stampede of external demands begins. It isn't just a writing routine; it is a ritual of self-preservation.

Feeding the Soil

"Nourish" is not about bubble baths and treating myself (though there’s room for that, too). It’s about a deeper, grittier commitment to recognizing that I am a finite resource. So if you don’t see output showing up on social just know…. I am working on me.

After years of pausing, renewing, and mending, I am ready to build something lasting. And I know now that nothing lasts if it isn't fed. This year, I’m feeding the soil and the soul.

I would love for you to comment any of your rituals for showing up for you. Thanks for being here.