It didn’t happen overnight. There was no dramatic turning point. Just a quiet realisation that things couldn’t carry on the way they were. I was existing, not living. Floating through days with no real structure – just a head full of noise, a body full of fatigue, and a phone full of distractions.

So I started making changes. Tiny ones. Messy ones. But they were mine.

And here’s where I began:

I struggle with self-discipline. Combine that with depression and anxiety, and you’ve basically got the fitness level of an 80-year-old woman. (for context- I’m in my 40s, by the way.) My procrastination is Olympic standards, my sleep pattern is more chaotic and that’s on a good day,  and my goals are more like vague wishes whispered into the void. I know that sounds bleak, but honestly, that’s been my reality for a while now.

And yet – I do try. I get these bursts of motivation, little moments of  “let’s do this!.” And then… the snooze button wins, again and again. Ten times, at least. And really, I’ve only got myself to blame—if I didn’t stay up watching that extra film, or chatting to friends online until 4am about absolutely nothing (seriously, what were we even talking about?), maybe just maybe, my reality would be different. And surprise, surprise – everything feels harder the next day.

My only real routine used to be:

• Wake up → check social media

• Fall asleep → check social media again

Not exactly groundbreaking stuff, and deep down, I knew that had to change.

Over the past few months, I’ve started to take accountability for myself, not in a “ new me” or a quilt driven, beat myself – up kind of way,  but in a quiet, slow, softer, slightly wobbly kind of way. I can’t fully blame mental health, even though it’s been a massive part of my journey and yes, it’s been hard learning how to live differently, but I’ve also been the one hitting snooze and avoiding the mirror. That’s on me.

Then something shifted.

A few weeks back, I went for a night walk with some friends. The end of it was rough – my hips were screaming, my feet hated me, and my old pal Pain came along for the ride.

But somewhere during that walk, especially in those quiet pre-dawn moments – when the sky is just beginning to change and the darkness starts to lift – I felt something I haven’t felt in ages: peace. Proper, bone-deep peace. That kind of stillness you wish you could bottle and sell. (And trust me, I’d be a millionaire by now if you could.)

Sometimes healing doesn’t look like a breakthrough, it looks like boots by the front door, a snooze button only hit twice, and showing up for yourself before the world wakes up.

Since then, I’ve been experimenting with morning walks. Nothing fancy—just getting out before 6am. Just me, the road and a very sleepy version of myself creeping out of the house, and weirdly it’s been easier than I thought, maybe Barry (anxiety) might not wake up until 7. Who knew?

And without even meaning to, I started a routine. My clothes and boots are laid out the night before. The snooze button only gets tapped twice (progress!). Some mornings I’m out by 5, sometimes 6. The light feels different at that hour—clearer, softer, kind of like the world hasn’t quite made its mind up yet. My body’s stiff from sleep, but not in full pain mode yet, and that makes walking feel more doable.

progress isn’t always loud. sometimes its just getting out of the front door before Barry (anxiety) has a chance to catch up.

I aim for about 4,500 steps in my hour walk. I try not to check my phone. Just me, my headphones, and a podcast. Though recently, I’ve left the headphones at home. It’s been nice – listening to the early morning sounds, getting to know my own thoughts again. Turns out, I’m actually kind of good company. I even say funny things in my head. And I’m learning to sit with my emotions rather than running from them (which, let’s be real, I was never much of a runner anyway).

I’m learning to just sit with how I feel, not to fix it or numb it- but just feeling it. Because like it or not, we have to work through our emotions at some point don’t we? So I may as well do it in the fresh air and comfy boots.

I don’t have to fix my whole life overnight, I’m starting with a walk, a cup of coffee and the decision to keep trying.

The best part of all this? Café Nero opens at 7.

No queues, no chaos. Just the smell of fresh coffee, the quiet hum of the world waking up, and me, cup in hand, slipping slightly on my walk home, grinning like a loon like its the most normal and perfect thing in the world.

Because in that moment, it kind of is.