Here’s a little secret about me: I actually start my day like a retired 80-year-old man who just discovered yoga. My alarm goes off at 6:15 AM, not because I’m inherently virtuous or wildly productive but because my internal clock has conspired with my cat, Dolly Pawton, to never let me sleep past sunrise. Before my feet hit the floor, I stretch so dramatically you’d think I was auditioning for Cirque du Soleil. It’s something I learned from my dad, who claimed you had to “start the day by making space in your body.” Turns out, he was right—just don’t tell him I said that.
The Sacred Ritual: Coffee, Please and Thank You
There are two truths I live by: Love can be complicated, and coffee should never be. For me, making coffee feels almost ceremonial—pouring the water, hearing the hum of the grinder, and inhaling that first earthy, robust whiff. There’s something grounding about this ritual, especially in a city like Nashville, where life moves fast, and the honky-tonk rhythm never really sleeps.
I take my coffee to my tiny back patio, where I keep a modest garden of herbs, succulents, and one rebellious tomato plant that refuses to thrive. This is my thinking space. No phone, no email—just the morning air and my slightly judgmental cat giving me side-eye for forgetting to feed her before I fed myself.
It’s during these quiet moments that I sort through the soundtrack of my life, deciding which songs replay and which ones to skip. There’s a songwriting term I love—“kill your darlings.” It basically means not everything you love fits the bigger picture. Relationships are the same way: sometimes, you have to let go of what feels comfortable in order to grow.
Beyoncé Playlist and the Power of Dancing While Cleaning
By mid-morning, my house gets a makeover courtesy of Clorox wipes, a Swiffer, and Beyoncé. ("Love on Top" is a personal favorite—try folding laundry to that and NOT smiling. Impossible.) Cleaning gives me a strange sense of accomplishment—it’s the kind of productive chaos I can control. Plus, there’s nothing quite like handing yourself a fresh start, even if it’s delivered via lemon-scented countertops and perfectly plumped couch pillows.
Something about this ritual reminds me of the early stages of getting to know someone. It’s messy, cluttered, and a little exhausting, but when you start seeing things more clearly—when the dust settles—it’s magic.
The Midday Reset: Long Walks and Big Questions
After work emails are answered and my to-do list has been taken down about halfway, I lace up my sneakers and head to Shelby Park. Growing up in East Nashville, I’ve run, walked, or daydreamed my way through these paths since before I could spell "introspection." Walking is my version of DIY therapy. In fact, I’ve made some life-changing decisions by looping the same trail over and over, hoping my brain will catch up with my feet. (For the record, it usually does.)
I think a lot about relationships during these walks—platonic, romantic, and everything in between. One thing I’ve learned: The best connections aren’t the ones that force answers but the ones that spark better questions. Like, “What does partnership actually mean to me?” or “Does this person add to my life, or am I just afraid of being alone?” They’re not light questions, but they do make that slightly uphill stretch feel worth it.
The Southern Charm Lunch: Biscuits and Balance
If you ever find yourself in Nashville, do yourself a favor and track down a buttermilk biscuit. Seriously, it’s a spiritual experience. My lunches, however, are less indulgent and more functional—a bowl of quinoa and roasted veggies or a turkey sandwich if I’m uninspired. But there’s always hot sauce involved because, as we say in the South, bland food is a cardinal sin.
I grew up around food that felt like an extension of love. My mom never let a Sunday go by without her famous peach cobbler on the counter, and my dad could grill ribs so tender they practically melted into conversation. The kitchen was where our family gathered, and I think that stayed with me. Relationships, much like biscuits, require care and warmth—you can’t rush them, and if I’ve learned anything, they’re always better with butter.
Afternoon Creative Time: Writing and Rewriting (and Rewriting Again)
Afternoons are my sacred creative hours, often spent in my tiny writing nook with a mason jar of iced tea (a necessity) and my laptop (a less charming necessity). Whether it’s drafting an essay, editing a chapter of my novel, or jotting down memories in lyric form, this time reminds me why I fell in love with storytelling in the first place. As Dolly Parton once said, “If you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.” Writing is kind of like that. Some days, the words flow seamlessly; on others, they stick like gum on the bottom of a cowboy boot.
The great irony is this: Writing about relationships, as I often do, makes me step further into my own. Once, while drafting a piece about vulnerability, it hit me that I almost never ask for help—a realization that came with an awkward call to my best friend to say, “Hey, can you help me figure out what I’m feeling?” She promptly laughed and said, “Finally!” (Pro tip: vulnerability feels like swallowing a cactus at first, but it gets easier. Mostly.)
Evening Wind-Down: Dinner, Dolly (Both), and Gratitude
By dinnertime, my pace slows, and I swap out Beyoncé for Dolly—Parton, not my cat (although she also makes an appearance, usually begging for scraps). Cooking dinner for one can seem mundane, but I treat it as an act of love—for myself. Maybe it's spaghetti carbonara, or maybe it’s just scrambled eggs and toast on a chaotic day, but either way, I take the time to plate it nicely. Because why not?
Before bed, I practice the simplest, least fancy habit I’ve ever adopted: gratitude journaling. Nothing profound—sometimes it’s just “The sunset today was outrageous,” or “My neighbor’s dog barked exactly on beat with that Luke Bryan song.” But writing it down reminds me that no matter what storms blow through—emotional or otherwise—there’s always something worth appreciating.
Takeaway: Welcome the Unexpected
My day is uneven, a little messy, but it works. I’ve learned that the best routines, much like the best love stories, adapt to where you are. And while every bright morning or quiet evening reminds me of my growing list of questions, it also reminds me that I don’t have to have them all answered right now. I just have to show up—with coffee, cat hair-covered yoga pants, and curiosity.
So if you’re reading this while trying to figure out your own rhythm—whether in life, love, or leaving a situationship—know this: You’ve already got what it takes. A little gratitude, a good playlist, and a lot of persistence will take you farther than you think.
