Micro Habits That Help Me Stay Sane (Even When Life Is Full to the Brim)

Life is full right now. My husband and I both work full-time. I’m finishing a book I hope to publish soon, and I’m launching a small business from the ground up. We’re navigating the emotional and logistical demands of three aging parents, five adult children, and seven grandchildren ranging in age from just two days old to twelve.

The energy it takes to launch something is completely different than simply maintaining it. Add in the unpredictability of real life and the mental load can feel endless. But even in the middle of all this, I don’t feel burnt out or bitter. And it’s not because I’ve figured out some secret. It’s because I’ve started practicing micro habits that help me stay grounded.

Let’s jump into the ones that have made the biggest difference.

1. Start the Day With One Completed Task

Not a long to-do list. Not a major accomplishment. Just one thing. Make the bed. Drink a full glass of water. Put away the basket of laundry at the foot of the bed. Wipe down the kitchen counters before heading out the door.

It doesn’t really matter what it is. The point is to start the day with something finished. It builds momentum and reminds you that you’re capable, even before the day pulls you in ten different directions.

2. Write it Down

There was a time I journaled every morning. I still love it, I’m just in a season where my energy is focused on writing my book. But even now, when I jot something down whether it’s a thought, a prayer, a reminder, or a dream, it brings me clarity. It makes me feel like I’m meeting myself on the page instead of losing myself in the chaos.

3. Create a Sacred Space

This doesn’t have to be elaborate. But wherever you spend time your office, a favorite chair, the corner of your porch….make sure it feels good.

Add a blanket you love, a candle that makes you feel at peace, or a lamp that gives off the kind of light that makes you want to exhale. Even if it’s just a small space, let it serve as a sanctuary. You deserve a place that welcomes you.

4. Plan the Week Like

Sundays are my power day. I meal plan, I check my calendar, and I move items from my “Get Sh*t Done” list to actual time blocks.

This isn’t about being rigid. Its frontloading decisions and separates decision from action. Reducing stress and decision fatigue. When I already know what I’m eating on Wednesday or when I’ve carved out time to write, rest or email someone back, I don’t waste energy wondering when it will get done.

It also gives me space to flex. I work in foster care, and the unexpected happens all the time. But planning ahead means I’m not constantly reacting ….I’m simply rearranging.

5. Feel the Feels-Physically

I know this might sound odd, but hear me out: one of my favorite micro habits lately has been hugging more. Holding my husband’s hand. Giving my grandkids a squeeze. Even just sitting under a weighted blanket when I need to decompress.

when was the last time you were hugged? how did you feel?

We were made for connection. If hugs aren’t your thing, consider something simple that gives your nervous system that same "ahh" feeling warm tea, cozy socks, soft music, or that blanket that makes you feel safe.

6. Embrace the Imperfect

This might be the most important one. Stop chasing the perfect morning routine, the perfectly clean house, or the perfect family dinner. Sometimes the kitchen is a mess, you forgot to buy groceries, and everyone’s eating cereal out of mismatched bowls.

It’s OK. That’s life. It’s not supposed to be polished all the time. And honestly, those imperfect moments are often the ones we remember most.

Final Thought
The season we’re in is full, but it’s also rich. These micro habits aren’t about productivity for productivity’s sake. They’re about peace. About clarity. About presence.

I’d love to hear from you….what habits have helped you stay grounded when life feels like a lot? Leave a comment or send me a message. I read every single one.

With you in the beautiful mess,
Jennifer

Making memories with less….is always more

Memories from when my kids were little still stick with me sharp, funny, sacred.
We didn’t need theme parks or fancy gear.

We had imagination, a busted lawn mower, and zero sense of self-preservation. That lawnmower had the governor ripped off, we also had a borrowed golf cart with no brakes, and a dirt road that dared us to go faster.

My kids called it Redneck Mario Kart and once we hit that hill (a little hill but still a hill) , it was on.

Bugs in our teeth. Tires going bald. No stopping even when we probably should have.

We’d barrel down like we had nothing to lose and everything to laugh about.
It was messy. It was wild. It was 100% unforgettable.

That was our kind of adventure.

No manuals. No helmet. Just creativity, courage, and a full send into the next bend.

Vacations weren’t always in the budget- okay, they rarely were.
But instead of boarding passes, we collected aluminum cans so we could send the kids to 4-H camp most years.

That in itself was an adventure sticky bags of soda cans, trips to the scrap yard,

cheering every dollar, we earned like we’d won the lottery. We made hard times look easy.

Becoming Grandma? That Was Camp Jamma Time.

When I became a grandmother, I kept that spirit alive.
We didn’t go to Disney. We went to Camp Jamma- right in the backyard.

Camp Jamma was a vibe. We built campfires in the fire pit. Roasted marshmallows until they caught flame (and ate them anyway). Read books like Put Me in the Zoo . We made zoo animals out of paper plates-paint, glue, googly eyes, the whole nine yards.
And the next day, we’d actually go to the zoo.

We’d take pictures, eat ice cream, and pretend we were on safari sticky-fingered and wide-eyed. It wasn’t fancy. But it was fun.
And my grandbabies didn’t care that it wasn’t a resort.

They just cared that we were together.

Looking back now, I realize-
We didn’t just invent fun. We invented legacy.
Skinned knees and belly laughs.
Camp Jamma and before that it was aluminum cans. Bugs in your teeth and no brakes on the hill.

The kind of memories that don’t cost much but live forever.

Some of life’s best lessons are learned when you keep going, with a blown tire and a peanut butter sandwich in your hand.

“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’” - Isaiah 30:21

God doesn’t always lead us to luxury. Sometimes He leads us to the lawnmower path, to the paper plate zoo,
to a backyard fire that becomes a holy place.

Adventure isn’t about arrival. It’s about showing up. So keep rolling.
 Even if you swallow a bug.

If you liked this, you can read more about these adventures in my upcoming book! stay tuned!

A simple errand turns into a crisis with a side of hot flashes.

There are days you run to the bank, grab what you need, and go (I rarely use cash anymore) but…

I pulled up to the ATM, behind one car, with six people inside. That should’ve been my first clue.

But optimism (or maybe delusion) whispered, “How long could it take?” 

Six people. One car….at the ATM. That’s not a transaction, that’s a finance committee. Everybody needed something different someone gets cash, another doing a balance check, is someone making a deposit, and only one card between them? The rest are they there for moral support? GEEZ

Cue 18 minutes of sweating, overthinking, and asking myself deep questions like:

“Why is my heart racing like I just ran a 5K?”

“Why am I mad at everyone but mostly at nothing?”

Spoiler: The answer is perimenopause…….And possibly my inability to just walk inside the bank like a normal person.

By the time I got to the teller (yes, I went to a different lane) another vehicle was in front of me and delayed. I got stuck - another vehicle got behind me….I was convinced my transaction would be faster.

It was not.

All I needed was cash. WWhhy did it take a bunch of tellers so long to get to my withdrawal. The inside of the bank was empty. She smiled at me when she came back and said thank you for your patience (did I detect sarcasm in that inflection?) after she was chatting with others for at least 7 minutes…… Have you ever just sat silent for 7 minutes?……after already sitting in line - I was about to scream.

I could’ve gone through Chick-fil-A at lunchtime quicker. Which by the way I hadn’t had lunch and now didn’t have time to grab it before my next meeting. I need to get back to work.

Midlife often comes with invisible heat, impatience we can’t explain, and a whole lot of grace we’re still learning to give ourselves.

I need a cold towel and probably a new prescription.

My neck fan was at home (who thought I would need it today?) by the way if you don’t have one you can get it on this site!

Ladies if you understand …. take a minute to notice when your body needs a breather or a chicken sandwich. Maybe your soul needs a reset, don’t leave home without your fan, and your sense of humor might just save the day or at least the chatty tellers life LOL.

When solitude isn’t silence, it’s soul work.

Some kinds of quiet are peaceful.
Others are heavy.

There’s the quiet of a morning porch, warm coffee in hand.
And then there’s the quiet of scrolling at midnight, wondering if anyone sees you.

Lately, I’ve felt the second.

Because even when you're doing meaningful work….
Holding a full-time job. (writing a book)
Showing up at family birthdays and baby showers with a gift and a smile.
Folding laundry late at night, running out of coffee or mayonnaise, AGAIN….becasue who can remember all that.

replying to messages that come with invisible expectations…

Even when you're pouring yourself into all of it
you can still feel profoundly alone.

Not because you’re doing something wrong.
Not because you aren’t strong enough.
But maybe… because the more honest , brave and aligned you become
the quieter the world around you gets.

People drift.
Platforms shrink.
You become more you and sometimes, the world just doesn’t know what to do with that.

And that’s where I’ve been lately:
In the weight of that . . . .
In the constant tension of living a full life while wondering who’s still with me in it.

And underneath it all, I keep asking:

Did I choose this solitude… or did this solitude choose me?

🪶 What the Nest Taught Me

This whole brand Nest & North was born from an empty nest.
But if I’m honest, I didn’t know how deep that ache would go.

There’s this stretch of time that comes after the house quiets down, after the sports schedules stop, after the kids move out, after the noise that filled your world for decades just… fades.

And in that hush, you start asking:

• Who am I now?

• What do I do with all this time and space and silence?

• Am I still needed? Still wanted?

For a while, I thought maybe I had nothing left to say.
But the truth is…I was just finally quiet enough to hear my own voice again.

Because the nest isn’t just what’s left behind.
It’s where you begin again.

And when the nest feels empty, maybe that’s when it’s finally ready to hold you. Your healing. Your voice. Your story. Your next season.

So now I say this with tenderness and truth:

“This isn’t just the end of a chapter. It’s the sacred beginning of your becoming.”

If you’ve felt this too the ache of unseen effort, the quiet after the noise, the strange mixture of grief and grace. I want to invite you into the deeper work I’m exploring in The BRAVE Way Home.

Inside, you’ll find:

• Soul map reflections for reclaiming the lost parts of yourself

• Stories of what it means to come home after being everything for everyone else

• Honest prayers for the woman who’s tired of being strong, but still standing

Want a preview ?
Download: Coming Home to Me: 9 Questions for Reclaiming the Lost Parts

Click here for page 1

Click here for page 2

You’re not alone in this quiet.
And this quiet might just be the beginning of your next brave thing.

Living Bravely, Overcoming Self-Doubt

Self-doubt is the quiet enemy that whispers in the back of your mind, telling you you're not enough, that you’ll never be enough. It calls into question every choice, every word, every dream you've ever had. It hides behind the mask of perfectionism, convincing you that until you’re perfect, you can’t move forward. It tells you that others are better, smarter, more capable and somehow, you’re less.

Honest: Self-doubt is a lie. It’s a lie that masquerades as wisdom, but it’s nothing more than a thief. It steals your peace, your joy, and most importantly, your ability to move forward into what you’re meant to do. And if we keep listening to it, we’ll miss the life we’re supposed to live.

I’ve been there. I’ve listened to the voices the ones that say, “You don’t have enough.” The ones that whisper, “What do you think you’re doing? Who do you think you are?” And there have been times, honest, hard times when I let those voices win.

I’ve looked at myself in the mirror and thought, “I’m not ready. I’m not qualified. I don’t have the answers.”

And yet, I still chose to believe in something different.

I even got the word brave tattooed on my arm…….etched into my skin as a declaration, a reminder, a dare to live boldly. It was a promise I made to myself: that I would show up, that I would speak, that I would write.

But here’s the part most people wouldn’t see I didn’t actually start writing this book until nine years later.

Nine years of wrestling. Of second-guessing. Of stepping forward and retreating, running in circles and wondering if my voice mattered. I even joked and said you might as well go ahead and put on my tombstone “nobody listened to me.”

But bravery isn’t a one-time moment, it’s a posture. A choice you make, even when it's delayed. Even when you feel unqualified. Even when you carry more questions than confidence.

I’m not asking you to pretend that self-doubt doesn’t exist. I’m not asking you to shove it down or ignore it. That’s not brave. That’s avoidance. What I’m asking is for you to acknowledge it and then choose to do it anyway. You are not your doubt.

There’s a power in that. A power that says, “I may not feel ready. I may not have all the answers, but I’m doing it anyway.”

That’s where the magic happens. It’s in choosing to live boldly in the face of all the fear and uncertainty. And I promise, it will make you feel alive in a way you’ve never experienced before.That’s what I’m doing right now, as I write this.

I’ve never owned a business, but I do now. I don’t have a fancy launch plan. I haven’t even finished building out the website yet. I haven’t walked into the bank to open a business account. But I will. By the time this is printed, those things will be done.

The point is I didn’t wait until I had it all mapped out. I’m moving forward without a blueprint. I don’t know what I’m doing or exactly where this is going. But I’m taking one brave step at a time. Trusting, in faith, that when I set my foot down, the earth will rise up beneath it.

That somehow, God will meet me in the movement.

That somehow, it will all work out.

And maybe that’s what bravery really looks like not having all the answers but moving forward anyway.

One step. One page. One yes at a time.

I reminded myself I’ve done hard things before.

Remember when I packed up everything I had and moved a hundred miles away from everyone I knew? I left behind my entire support system, my family, my history, my safety net. All I carried with me was a car full of stuff and a heart full of shame. That was hard.

But in that unfamiliar town, through tears and trembling prayers, we built something beautiful. A home. A family. A small circle of friends who became a lifeline. People who didn’t care where I came from, only who I was becoming. They fed my soul and helped me heal.

I remember another season where I was so paralyzed by fear, I stopped moving altogether. I doubted myself so deeply I questioned every choice. I was stuck in a fog of second-guessing, afraid that if I moved, I’d mess it all up.

But if I go back even further…..there’s more.

I was a high school dropout, living in a trailer in my parents’ front yard. Three kids. A dog. No plan. Just survival. I felt like a failure. I felt like my story had already been written and it wasn’t the kind of story anyone would want to read.

But one day, I decided to fight for something different. I enrolled in college. Community college first, my associate's degree. That win became a bigger one. I kept going. Nobody could take away the pride I had inside from achieving something for myself.  I earned my bachelor’s degree. And then, through a few more seasons, more homes, more pets, and a lot more life I earned my master’s degree. Not because it was easy. Not because I always believed in myself. But because something deep inside of me refused to let the story end where it started.

Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is not wait to feel brave.

Viola Davis once said something to the effect of: "If you can’t be brave, then be strong. And if you can’t be strong, then be kind. And if you can’t be kind, then be honest. But whatever you are, just keep moving forward."

That speaks to me. Because there were seasons where bravery felt out of reach. The strength was too heavy. Kindnesses, especially to myself…. sigh…..was hard to come by.

But honesty? That I could hold on to. I could admit I was scared. I could say, “I don’t know what I’m doing.” I could cry while taking the next step.

And I did.

Because moving forward even messy is still movement.

That’s what Viola’s story reminds me of. She didn’t come from polished beginnings. Neither did I. Maybe you didn’t either. But we don’t need perfect paths. We need honesty, grit, and enough faith to take one small step. And if you can do that? You’re already braver than you think

If you’re waiting for self-doubt to leave before you start living, you’ll be waiting forever. I don’t know about you, but I’m not interested in waiting. Life is too short to let self-doubt keep us small.

You do not need permission.

The truth is, you’re already enough. I know it doesn’t always feel that way. There are days when you look in the mirror and think, "Who am I to do this?" But that’s not the question. The question is, "Who am I to not do this?" The world needs what you’ve got, your story, your gifts, your heart. We need women who rise in the face of fear and self-doubt and say, “Not today.”

Living boldly is about action. It’s about walking into rooms with your shoulders back, eyes open, and heart full, even when the world around you is loud with doubt. And it’s about believing, deep in your bones, that God is with you every step of the way.

You’ll see the strength you never knew you had. You’ll see the woman you were always meant to be.

So, let me ask you:
What would happen if you lived without doubt?

If you lived boldly, with backbone and bravery

Pause here. Take a breath. Imagine the freedom in that choice.

If you stopped waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect answer, the perfect version of yourself
And just gave yourself permission to love a part of yourself right now?

Not the “someday” you. Not the polished, got-it-all-together you.
Just the you that woke up this morning with mascara-soaked pillows, still carrying fear but willing to show up anyway. What if you let the past stay behind you the old version of yourself, the “mug shot” moments, the mistakes and regrets fade gently into the distance?

What if you gave yourself permission to rebuild, not with pressure or shame, but with grace?

Beth Moore once said, “God is not looking for extraordinary people. He's looking for ordinary people who are willing to say yes.”

What if yes was enough to change everything?
What if you chose bravery right in the middle of chaos, the healing, the doubt, the rebuilding?  Please don’t doubt who you are.

And if you haven’t been loved the way you needed to be loved, find a way to love yourself anyway.

It took me so so long to truly understand that. To look in the mirror and genuinely like who I saw. Self-doubt and low self-esteem share the same roof and they lie. They twist the truth, block your progress, and are the worst enemies of your breakthrough.

There were so many times I didn’t feel brave. I didn’t feel ready. I just kept stepping forward, shaky and unsure, trusting that somewhere up ahead was a version of me I hadn’t met yet but I was determined to find her.

That version was worth the fight.

I want you to fight for your brave soul within.

Confidence won’t come before the work.

Build It Anyway: For the Woman Who’s Doing the Brave Work in the In-Between

Some days, I give it thirty quiet minutes.
Other days, I rise in the dark and pour myself into it from 4 AM until the world wakes.
Then I go to work. I come home. And I build again.

This is the rhythm of something sacred.
Not always polished. Not always visible. But deeply real.

I have a full-time job. A husband I love. A growing family. A home I care for.
And still something inside kept whispering:
“Make space for this.”

So I did.
Not with endless time. But with relentless heart.

That’s how Nest & North began in the cracks of ordinary life, in the spaces where most would say “not now.” But time doesn’t wait for perfect. It moves.
And we don’t get to rewind it.
We only get to decide what we’ll do with what we have.

So if you’re a woman building something brave while juggling a life already full
You’re not alone.
You’re not behind.
You’re becoming.

Confidence won’t come before the work.
It will come because of it. Every hour you pour in, every step you take it counts.

People may pull away from you , not because they don’t believe in you,
but because they don’t understand you.They might judge you.
Whisper about your dream. Distance themselves from your growth.

But that judgment?
It’s rarely about you.
It’s often about them …. second-guessing their stage or thier own courage.

Keep building anyway.
Not everyone will get it.
But the ones who are meant to walk with you - will.

You are planting purpose.
You are doing the brave, beautiful, soul-stretching work of becoming who you were meant to be.

Let’s Keep Going - Together

If you're building something in the in-between -
a business, a book, a brand, a better version of yourself -
I’d love to hear about it.

This space is yours too.
Not just a blog, but a place for kindreds. For creators. For the quietly fierce.

So leave a comment. Send a message. Share your story.
Because we rise stronger when we rise together.

The Bag I Didn’t Pack, and the one we don’t need to.

They packed sunscreen and sandals.
I packed silence and self-restraint.

Maybe you know the weight of that.
Maybe you’ve been the one who swallows disappointment, makes excuses for others’ behavior—not because it was fair or even right, but because someone had to. And that someone was usually you.
Maybe you’re already nodding your head.

Recently, some family members chose to do something. I wasn’t invited.
A trip they quietly hid from me.
I don’t care that they went.
I care that they concealed it. . . . . like children trying not to get caught.
That they made a choice that bypassed relationship in favor of comfort.
That they knew it might hurt me and did it anyway just quietly, so they wouldn’t have to see my face when it landed. It felt immature the way it was navigated.

But what hurts just as much, if not more, is that this isn’t the first time it’s happened.
I wasn’t asked. I wasn’t included.
I wasn’t even considered.
And it’s not jealousy. This isn’t about being center stage.

It’s about that aching question that rises up when you’re left out by the people you love most:

Am I even part of this? Do they see me as someone who belongs?

Maybe they thought I was too busy with work. Maybe they assumed I’d say no.
But… I wasn’t even given the chance. Not asked. Not told.
Just left to piece it together after the fact.

It makes me question my role as someone who has tried to hold space for others, only to find the space I thought I held shrinking.

And again, I felt the old pull:
Be the mature one. Don’t make a scene. Don’t let it hurt you.
Choose to think about what is true, and what I know now, and what I talk about in The BRAVE Way Home:

Boundaries are not about controlling others. They are about choosing yourself when others don’t.

I cannot change them.
I cannot make others behave differently.
I cannot force people to consider me.
I cannot parent people into emotional accountability.

But I can choose how I respond.
I can tell the truth about how it feels.
I can stop performing emotional resilience for the sake of preserving relationships that don’t preserve me in return.
I can let this hurt and still hold my head high.

This is what boundaries look like in real time not pretty, not perfect, but real.
They say:
I deserve to be considered, even if you didn’t. I deserve to be included, even if you didn’t think to.

And maybe the bravest thing I can do right now is to put the "maturity bag" down.
Not slam it down in anger (though everything in me wants to).
Not hand it off.
Just… set it down. Gently. Quietly.
And walk myself home.

Because no matter what others choose I choose me.

Breathing through the ache of being excluded, I remind myself:
My worth doesn’t vanish just because someone else failed to see it.
I can answer my own need for acceptance and comfort, instead of waiting for someone else to show up with it.
I don’t want to be the person, or the version of me, who begs for belonging.

Healing is not always confrontational.
Sometimes, it's simply refusing to carry what was never mine to carry.
Leaving breadcrumbs for someone else who’s trying to find their way back to themselves.

That is what this journey is about.
Pouring another cup of coffee.
Putting my hand over my heart and saying:

“I see you. I know this hurts. You are okay. This wasn’t part of what was meant for you. You are home.” TBH- I sat on my porch and rocked myself!

Because home isn’t always a place.
It’s a choice a deeply rooted return to yourself, especially when no one is offering a map.

And that is the brave way.

Author’s Note

I know sharing this comes with risk. I know some people especially those who struggle with their own honesty may feel uncomfortable with mine.
Yes, people sometimes weaponize the truth instead of receiving it.
But I don’t have to hand them ammunition.

I can tell the truth without naming names.
I can share my story without asking for permission.
I can protect my peace and let my healing be seen.

Because this isn’t about revenge.
It’s about release.

And if you’ve ever been hurt, left out, or silenced…….this story is for you.
Not to point fingers, but to open palms.
Not to shame anyone, but to remind you that you matter.
Your experience matters.

You don’t have to carry it anymore.
And you’re not alone.