Cleaning the Kitchen: The Reset I Didn’t Know I Needed

The last two weeks have been rough.

Not in a big, dramatic, stuff is blowing up kind of way. Just heavy. I felt stuck, like I was treading water and getting nowhere and things that I’m trying isn’t working. And to be honest, I felt a bit like a failure. I was fragile, tired, and weighed down by a subtle, lingering sadness that I couldn’t quite explain. I felt alone, a bit abandoned, and weirdly guilty for even feeling that way.

Because when I zoomed out? Life is actually okay. Not incredible, on-fire exciting, but objectively… okay. My health has been improving. I was connecting with people, even though it wasn’t yet turning into new business. But that just made me feel worse. Like a spoilt brat with no real reason to complain.

And in the middle of that messy headspace, I didn’t feel like I could reach out. Not to the people who usually help me through these dips. I felt too fragile, too exposed, and honestly… a little embarrassed. There was one situation in particular that had me off-balance, and in that state, even minor things felt like a sucker punch.

Then, without thinking too much about it, I did something simple: I cleaned my kitchen.

I popped in my AirPods, put on music, and just started. No overthinking. No planning. Just… action. A simple task. Something I could control. It wasn’t really a mess but didn’t realise how much it was bothering me until it was gone. Halfway through, I noticed I was breathing easier. I felt lighter. Still raw, but clearer.

That moment of physical movement, of reclaiming my space, helped me recalibrate.

And it wasn’t just the cleaning. It was the unplugging. The act of removing myself from all the noise. Ignoring my phone. Letting myself disconnect from everything and everyone.

Afterwards, I made something to eat, then lay on the couch and watched feel-good, slightly ridiculous series that made me laugh through the serious and the sad. Later, I cooked a healthy chicken soup; one that I hoped wouldn’t aggravate my esophagus or trigger reflux, which had been flaring up again.

That evening, I finally checked my phone. There was a message from a potential new client.

Strong Habits kicked in,  I wanted to help. But the gift of that day was that it gave me enough space to pause before saying yes. I knew I didn’t have it in me to show up fully in that moment. And if I can’t show up 100%, I won’t pretend I can. We scheduled the meeting for the next day. I returned to my couch, my soup, and my soft blanket.

Sleep still didn’t come easily. That damn reflux reminded me that my body feels stress even when I pretend not to. Especially the pressure I put on myself. The pressure to always be okay. To always push forward. To always show up strong.

Truth is, the things stacking up against me over those two weeks weren’t massive on their own. But together? They weighed heavy. And when I was in the middle of it, I couldn’t see a way through.

What I’m seeing now, from the other side, is that I wasn’t alone. Maybe not in the way I’m used to but there were still people who showed up. Not the usual ones, but exactly who I needed in the moment.

And the biggest shift happened when I made space. When I stopped trying to force momentum. When I took control of what I could (like my kitchen). When I allowed myself to pause, to breathe, to not be okay for a while.

I’m learning (again) that my process is messy. It’s not linear. It’s uncomfortable. Sometimes it makes me feel fragile, exposed, and scattered. But it’s mine. This time it took a bit longer but it’s how I move through things.

Sometimes I get up and keep going with just a scratch. Sometimes I need to stop, cry, clean, eat soup, and rest. Sometimes I need to ask for help. Sometimes I don’t.

But always — always — it has to be me that takes the action.

I’m reminded of something James Clear calls the “Valley of Disappointment.” It’s that place where you feel like the work you’ve put in isn’t paying off. Like the effort doesn’t matter. But it does. The work, the effort, is stacking. It’s building beneath the surface. It’s not wasted.

I just need to hold that tricky balance between patience and persistence. Between not giving up on the dream and accepting that some things take time. That growth is a process, not a performance.

The Conscious Leadership Group has a tool that helps in times like this:

1. Awareness
2. Acceptance
3. Asking your self: Are you willing to Shift?
4. And if you are willing to shift: What action do you need to shift?

As I sat with all this, a leaf drifted down and landed on my notebook. I brushed it off without thinking. Then I paused.

Where did it come from? Where is it going? Why here, now?

It grounded me in the moment. This moment. No phone, no pressure, no need to figure it all out.

That small act reminded me that sometimes, it’s not about solving everything. It’s about being present. Accepting where you are. Letting yourself be held by the stillness, the silence, and the small, quiet truths.

If you’re in a slump, maybe what you need isn’t to push harder. Maybe you just need to clean your kitchen.

May whatever comes next bring you peace, insight, and clarity. May you find your truth, and follow it with grace.

So if you’re feeling stuck or fragile right now, ask yourself: What’s one small, grounded thing you can do today? Start there.It’s enough.