Put your damn phone down. No but, like, seriously. Put your phone down. Uninstall Instagram for a bit and invest in an analog alarm; chose to watch the world more often than you watch a screen.
Be gentle with your body, it is healing still. Protect your sleep fiercely. Stretch, remember to eat. Always have the ingredients for an emergency smoothie in your kitchen. Make peace with the things you cannot do; swim, instead. Moisturize.
Write. Write, write, write. Steal time. Show up, trust the process. Write short stories, write poems, write long e-mails. Writing includes : reading books, watching out of your window, art that splits your heart open.
Speak up, use your words. Learn to fight the good fights; to have the uncomfortable conversations. Figure out how to state your needs, how to ask for what you want; soft and strong. Ask questions. Say no more often. Remember to say yes sometimes.
Do everything slower than you think you need to. Gentle, gentle. Piano. Take an hour and a half to wake up in the mornings, carry a book with you everywhere, take your time, open your windows on rain. Step back and breathe.
Spend time outside everyday. Breathe in the air, get mud on your shoes, walk – it’s good for your knee, for your heart, for your brain. Go on as many hikes as you can.
Be vulnerable. Get your heart bruised by the beautiful things – the sunrises that hurt, the people that put their hand on the nape of your neck and leave it there, the overwhelming gratefulness that you get to be alive. Don’t apologize for your feelings. Fall hard for people, places, moments.
Listen to more music that makes you smile like you can’t help it, drink too many extra large hot chocolates, make peace with the lost days. Wear bright red lipstick sometimes. Sit with your feelings. Accept that things are messy. Experiment with face masks. Notice what you are grateful for. And, for the mother-fucking love of all that is holy, put your damn phone down.