I became very good at adapting to everyone else’s rhythm. It took me much longer to learn how to recognize my own.
For more than two decades, I worked on yachts and on private jets, where your schedule was rarely your own. When there were no guests on board, life could be fairly predictable. I might work from 8 to 5, Monday through Friday. Once guests arrived, everything changed. A three-week charter could mean starting at 8 in the morning and finishing at 2 the next morning. Breaks were never guaranteed. If the guests slept late, I could sleep later. If they stayed up, I stayed up.
Their rhythm became my rhythm. And strangely enough, I thrived in it. I liked the variety. I liked that every day was different. I learned how to adapt quickly, and I became very comfortable functioning in chaos.
There was also a cost. There were moments when I was exhausted or emotionally depleted and still needed to be completely available to everyone around me. I looked forward to my 10-minute showers and those five minutes in the crockery cupboard where I could disappear, cry, collect myself, then come back out and continue.
For years, I thought this was simply part of who I was. I was adaptable. I could handle change. I could keep going. What I understand about myself now is that adaptability is only part of the picture. We each seem to have a natural rhythm underneath everything life asks of us.
Some people feel better with predictability and structure. Others need variety and change. Some work best in steady stretches, while others move in bursts. I have always needed variety. When something interests me, I can become completely absorbed in it. I can work for hours, forget to eat, and lose track of time. When I am not interested, suddenly folding the laundry can become fascinating.
Learning more about how I naturally operate helped me understand why I do things the way I do, and why that can look completely different from someone else. It gave me words for things I had always experienced but never really understood.
It also made me more curious about the traits we sometimes judge in ourselves. What if they are actually showing us something about how we naturally work? Someone who struggles with a rigid routine may need more flexibility. Someone who needs time before making a decision may simply process differently.
We spend so much time learning how to function within the rhythm around us that we may never stop to ask what actually works for us.
My life in Whitefish gives me more room to notice that now. My home represents peace to me. I start many mornings with yoga. I choose when I schedule clients. I still love variety, creativity, and those periods when I become completely immersed in something. I have simply become better at recognizing when I need something different.
As the seasons change and our routines shift again, this may be a good time to notice your own patterns.
When life gets busy, what is the first thing you stop doing for yourself?
What tells you that you have been pushing for too long?
What helps you feel more like yourself again?
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