A Savorist’s Guide to Hard Days

The other day, I was sitting in facilitation—shoulders low, breath even, letting the room do what rooms do when trust is given space. Someone asked how I manage all the emotional weight of this work, this life. I paused so that I could look past my thoughts (schoolish and advice-y) and let the truth rise (subtle wisdom).

‘I follow my life now,’ I said. ‘I used to design my life, but that was years ago. Today, I trust that the core of the design’s already intact. My work now is to listen well enough to follow that design, and let it be shaped by what I need now.’

And part of that following is learning how to meet the hard days with softness. I mean the days where my calendar says “Budget Review” or “Taxes” or "Writing Projects" or “Organize the damn folders.” The days where facilitation is heavier than usual, or when I’m sifting through applications and spreadsheets and strategies instead of poems and people. Or the days my uterus wakes up first and lets me know it's Day One. Those are my designated ouch days.

How I Pad the Ouch.

But even those days carry the scent of sweetness when I let them. I don’t just brace for them. I build a little altar around them. And at that altar: comfort food, intentional music, an invitation to invoke my savor complex.

I bring warmth to the cold tasks.
✅ A perfectly spicy lentil soup.
✅ Plantain and avocado on pumpkin seed bread with pink salt an' likkle lime.
✅ A ritual disguised as a mere cup of hot chocolate, complete with bay leaves, cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamom, turmeric, black pepper, and pimento seeds, ‘cause grown-ass hot chocolate rituals be savin' my muphukyn life!

I don’t work through lunch on these days. I wrap myself in it. I let the pleasure of small things remind me that I’m not machinery—I’m a map of memory and rhythm and choice.

Being a Savorist isn’t about chasing pleasure for pleasure’s sake. It’s about reminding myself that even in systems that don’t honor softness, I can still choose it. I can still root for my own aliveness.

Ritual > Routine. Every Damn Time.

I remember the month I let my body lead fully. I was swimming in hormone confusion—hadn’t yet landed on the beautiful cocktail of supplements and sweat that steadies me now—but I knew I needed to get closer to myself. So I designed nothing and devoted everything to learning a sensual dance routine. A different kind of intelligence moved through me that month. No trackers, no metrics. Just music and hips and the ache of being deeply in my own skin.
That was savorism. That was resistance.

A Soft Landing for a Hard Calendar.

Now, I let that ritual return in micro-ways.
💛 A nap instead of a scroll.
💛 Whinin' up mi waistline before the Zoom call.
💛 A playlist that scores the morning with notes of grace and grit.
💛 A refusal to pretend I’m fine when I’m not.
💛 A big cry after a client session, followed by a berry smoothie in bed.

This ain’t about luxury. It’s about literacy—the kind that starts in the body and winds its way into how you meet your calendar.

I don’t “push through” hard days anymore. I pad them. I soften the landings. I build in recovery. I let comfort be part of the plan.

And if I’m going to do a hard thing—like tell the truth in a room, or untangle a tangled document, or bleed for days on days—I’ll damn sure be doing it in socks that feel like a hug, while something fragrant simmers nearby. Because I’m not just getting through. I’m savoring—even the ouch days.