Before You Feed the World, Feed Yourself

This morning, I woke up at 6:15.

Before anyone needed me.
Before the animals were hungry
Before the world began asking.

The first half hour of the day was mine.

I brushed my body.
Moved slowly.
Breathed deeply.

Nothing fancy.
Nothing productive.

Just enough to come back to myself.

Then the Day Began
Cats circled my legs, meowing insistently.

Horses waiting to be fed and needing special hay preparations.

Dog was joyfuly waging her tail wanting her jummy breakfast and a walk in the forest.

The hours rolled on.
Laundry folded.
Lunch prepared.

A maintenance man came to fix the dryer.
Horses waiting patiently for thier steamed hay.

By noon, my body was tired — but somehow satisfied.

And I noticed something important:

This exact same day, without that first half hour,
could have felt heavy.
Draining.
Too much.

But it didn’t.

Most parents and caregivers don’t need more to do.

They need more moments to breathe.

To pause.
To anchor.
To remember themselves.

Starting your day with yourself isn’t selfish.

It’s sacred.

Because when your cup is full,
your care turns into love —
not exhaustion.

As I watched the steam rise from a pile of hay I prepared for the horses, it struck me:

Steaming hay is an act of care.

You prepare nourishment slowly.
You remove what could harm your loved ones.
You do it with intention.

Our morning routines work the same way.

They are the steam.

They clear what irritates.
Soften what’s rough.
Protect what’s precious.

Your energy.
Your patience.
Your love.

Before you feed your children.
Your partner.
Your animals.
Your work.
Your community.

Feed yourself.

Take the half hour.
Or five minutes.
Or even one deep breath that’s truly yours.

It’s not a luxury.

It’s how you make sure that everything you give later
comes from love —
not depletion.

Your peace is the quiet beginning
of everyone else’s wellbeing.

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