A Joyful Nighttime Routine
With the holidays coming in hot, I’ve been thinking a lot about one of my favorite words: intentionality. Not the Pinterest-perfect kind where everything is beige and serene and formatted just so, but the real kind. The kind you reach for when you can feel the season speeding toward you and you want to prepare your heart instead of react to the chaos once the stockings have been hung by the fireside with care.
This time of year has a way of making everything feel a little louder; worries, our hopes, loneliness, our lists, our “how is it dark again already?” rage. And something I’ve learned in my years on this earth, is if I don’t purposefully create a slow down and a little softness ahead of time, December will happily chew me up and spit me out somewhere between a grocery store aisle and a parking lot meltdown.
So instead of letting life happen at me, I’ve built a little nighttime groove, if you will. A cozy, joyful, intentional little sequence that brings me back to myself before the season can run me over.
As a way to encourage you to join me in learning that it’s important for us to be intentional with ourselves, I present to you, your joyful nighttime groove. Not a ritual, not a performance, not a productivity hack. Just a gentle sequence of small things that help bring back your spark when you’re stretched thin and trying to be a person again.
Because joy isn’t always something you feel.
Sometimes it’s something you choose;
one tiny, gentle moment at a time.
⭐ Step 1: A Transition Moment
There’s the daytime version of you, right? The one dealing with emails, dishes, dogs, dentists, groceries, drama, and whatever emotional explosion arrived at 3:17 p.m. for no good reason.
Then there’s nighttime you. The one who needs warmth, quiet, and about 4.5 minutes of peace so you don’t spiral into existential dread while brushing your teeth.
Your transition moment can be tiny:
closing the laptop
dimming a lamp
lighting a cozy, non–safe-word-related candle
turning on a playlist that feels goooood
You’re just telling your nervous system,
“Hey darlin’… we’re done. Come sit a spell.”
⭐ Step 2: Warm Something Up
This is where the joy starts sneaking in.
A cup of bone broth, tea, cocoa, warm non-dairy milk for those who choose it — anything warm that your hands can wrap around. Humans weren’t designed to self-soothe with cold beverages. Warmth reminds your body you’re safe, and reminding your body you’re safe is what creates less of the feeling of that spiral.
⭐ Step 3: Wash the Day Off
Forget 12-step routines or anything that looks like it came from a dermatologist’s TED Talk.
Your winter groove involves:
a gentle cleanser
a hydrating toner
a serum your skin actually likes
a comforting moisturizer
maybe an oil if you’re feeling extra fancy
The point isn’t perfection.
It’s presence.
You’re not scrubbing.
You’re not fixing.
You’re not punishing your face for existing.
You’re saying,
“Here. I’ll take care of you for a minute.”
⭐ Step 4: Lower the Lights
Winter joy is never found under overhead lighting.
That’s just science.
Use:
lamps
twinkle lights
candles
your Christmas tree (elite winter-groove lighting)
The goal?
Make your space feel like a warm hug.
⭐ Step 5: Anchor Yourself in One Small Joy
Not forced happiness.
Not toxic positivity.
One tiny thing that reminds you you’re still here.
Some nights it’s:
reading three pages
watching an old Christmas movie
writing down something that you’re looking forward to
sitting with your dog
a hair gloss
if you’re like me, listening to a song that feels like memory and hope mixed together
This is the spark step.
It doesn’t have to be huge.
It just shifts the air a little.
⭐ Step 6: Set Up Tomorrow’s First Soft Thing
Future-you deserves something gentle waiting for her.
Lay out your skincare.
Put a fresh cup under the coffee maker.
Set your water bottle by the bed.
Lay out your favorite sweatshirt.
These tiny things remind you:
“You’re worth preparing for.”
⭐ Step 7: Tuck Yourself In
Your nighttime groove finishes with the simplest joy of all:
Getting horizontal.
Blanket on.
Cold air on your face.
Warm dog at your feet.
Phone on DND
You don’t have to feel joyful to practice joy.
Sometimes the groove is the joy.
Sometimes the gentle, boring, human things are what keep you going.
And if you’re feeling heavy this year?
If you’re tired?
If you’re alone?
If you’re rebuilding?
If you’re choosing yourself one tiny act at a time?
That counts.
That matters.
That is joy.
