I try hard to practice what I preach — to make a daily habit of practicing the skills and embodying the nervous-system supportive tools that I believe so deeply in.

After spending most of January reflecting on values (see last month’s blog) — In February, I made it a consistent practice to check in with my values and how I’m choosing to live into them each day. At the end of my day, I sit for a few minutes and reflect on a few simple questions in relation to my values: high points, low points, a moment of gratitude, what did I learn… and did I get my steps in 🤣.

Alongside these reflections, I’ve noticed something unexpected.

As I do this most days, I find myself taking deeper breaths. There’s a softening. A sense of closure. Almost like my body is saying, “Today is done now.”

Through this simple practice of intentionally reflecting on the day, it feels like I’m inviting in the rest of the evening — trusting that the day taught me what it needed to teach me, and knowing that tomorrow, a new adventure awaits and I’ll attend to it then.

What I’m noticing in myself feels remarkably similar to what we talk about when we discuss completing the stress cycle. I don’t know about you, but most days bring a pretty heavy dose of stress. And because of this reflective practice, I’m realizing that I’m spending much more time closing out what I can throughout the day — gently “putting things to bed” for now.

In my work with individuals who’ve experienced relentless or toxic stress, or significant trauma, we often see that stress responses — fight, flight, freeze, or fawn — have been interrupted or unable to complete. Part of healing involves helping the nervous system finish what it started, which often includes the release of stored stress energy.

But what I’m realizing more and more is that it’s not only the big stressors that matter.

We carry small charges all day long — little moments of tension, urgency, frustration, and effort. When these don’t have a chance to discharge, they can quietly build up over time, contributing to us getting stuck in our high or low zones. Without a clear ending, the body can continue acting as if the stressor is still present, which over time may show up not only as anxiety, low mood, and fatigue, but also as stress-related physical health patterns like digestive disruption (including IBS) and increased strain on cardiovascular health.

Completing the stress cycle isn’t about the stressors being gone. It’s about the body receiving a clear signal of safety and release after a charged experience — pleasant or unpleasant.

That signal can come through:

• movement (walking, stretching, working out, breath practices)
• relational safety (eye contact, tone of voice, co-regulation)
• orienting to the present (looking around, noticing colors, touching something solid)
• or simply tracking sensations that feel more neutral or steady

Many of these fit within our CRM skills of tracking (always!) followed by grounding, gesturing, or shift & stay.

The body needs felt transitions.

This month, while working with two organizations, this became the focus of our workplace skills boosters. We explored:

• how we’re continually noticing ourselves move in and out of our zone of well-being with more nuance and awareness
• what consistently helps us stay in our zone — or return to it when we inevitably bump out
• and what rituals we can practice to signal transition to the mind, body, and nervous system

Some of the examples shared were simple and powerful.

One person shared that when they turn off the light in their office, they say to themselves, “This workday is over for now,” and then track a sensation of support or ease in their body.

Another takes a moment to reflect on a moment of gratitude from the day and intentionally senses it in their body.

Someone else journals at the end of each day — not to problem-solve, but to mark the journey of the day — and now that practice itself signals closure.

Between clients, I often take a few deep breaths, sense a supportive place in my body, and quietly say, “That session is over for now.”

And then there was this gem: a child who, when leaving school for the day, waves and says, “Goodbye school, see you tomorrow.” After their mom navigates traffic, they celebrate the transition with, “Yay! We did it,” while throwing their exuberant hands in the air (gesturing!).

These moments matter.

So I’ll leave you with this invitation:
What is one small ritual or transition practice you could begin to incorporate to help your nervous system sense that something is over for the time being? Your email will still be there tomorrow — or even in 30 minutes — and you can still mark an ending or transition between sending one and starting the next.

To be well is not to live in a state of perpetual safety and calm.
It’s to move — again and again — from challenge, risk, effort, or excitement back to safety, and out again.

Our nervous systems don’t need perfection.
They need completion.
They need moments that say, “That is over for now.”

And sometimes, that moment is as simple as a breath, a phrase, a wave goodbye — and the permission to rest.

With care,

Laurie