Hi Everyone,

Since I last wrote, I’ve been feeling more like my warm, adventurous, playful, loving self. Much of that has come through my routines and doing the activities that help me feel like me—which requires discipline.

I’ve been reflecting a lot on discipline this week because it’s becoming clear how essential it is for me.

Looking back, my relationship with discipline has always been a love/hate one. When I thought of discipline, I admittedly pictured people I’d known who were overly fitness-focused. I admired their strict diet and exercise routines but also resented their rigidity. Their over-control, intensity, and lack of flexibility felt off-putting—and seemed to get in the way of connection and closeness with others.

I recall all the times I struggled with my weight and tried to stay disciplined around food. I didn’t want to be like those rigid, fitness-obsessed people, but I also struggled—believing, admittedly, that more willpower was the key to stopping myself from eating junk food.

This helps explain why discipline often felt difficult for me—and, I imagine, for others as well. Willpower can be exhausting because it demands constant self-control and mental energy. When discipline became tied to willpower, it felt rigid and suffocating, leaving little room for fun or freedom. That pressure made me want to rebel—and in doing so, I often ended up feeling completely out of control.

Then I remember my friends from Colorado who practiced spiritual discipline—they meditated and kept certain routines while still tending to their material needs. Their lives inspired me because of the balance they seemed to experience. Still, keeping up was a struggle.

In the past, I’d sometimes meditate and experience a heightened sense of awareness—calm and present for hours—which would translate into better balance throughout my day. Other times, meditation sparked inspiration, and I’d leap out of that awareness into creating for hours, convinced my work was groundbreaking and would lead to professional success.

Many of those creative bursts became the foundation of my career coaching practice. But in hindsight, not all of them were necessary—they were highs. They felt productive, but were often driven by a rush of dopamine and adrenaline—my brain rewarding the excitement of ideas and activity, rather than staying grounded.

Then, working with clients, I’d find myself exhausted—because mentally, I never really got a break. The creative high was also draining. At times, I found balance in my meditation practice, and sometimes, I chased those creative highs.

Now, after many medical challenges, my view of discipline has shifted completely. It’s no longer about rigidity or over-control—it’s about adapting to an ever-changing reality. It means staying connected to my motivation to live and keep going, even through pain. It’s how I preserve a sense of identity when it would be easy to lose myself. Discipline now looks like a checklist that gives structure to my day and anchors me to the practices that support my well-being.

Since developing kidney disease, I no longer have full days—I have small windows of time. And those windows can slam shut without warning. A new medication, a lab result, fatigue, or a hospitalization can change everything in an instant.

Eating now requires a strict plan based on my bloodwork—not for dieting, but because what I eat can be a matter of life or death.

Movement isn’t about adventure anymore (though I hope to return to that)—it’s about keeping my blood oxygenated to support my kidneys. Since I can’t walk currently, I do floor workouts—because without them, my labs worsen. These workouts also help my mental health.

Most mornings, I wake up and play with Barney because I love being a mom—an identity I worked hard for and treasure. Some days, I meditate and write, which helps me connect with myself, process my experiences, and access my spiritual side. More importantly, these practices keep me connected to the leader and advocate within—despite physical restrictions.

A few days each week, I go out with friends or family for meals or car adventures. Those moments help me stay connected to my social and adventurous self.

Then there are medical or insurance tasks and long appointments—which aren’t fun but are part of the structure.

From 2–5 PM, I nap because I’m exhausted. I tend to go to bed around 8:30 and rest between activities because even small tasks take a lot out of me.

Flexibility is essential since my time and energy are limited. Workouts happen in Barney’s play area so we can be together. Meditation music plays while I prepare meals. Writing often happens in 20-minute spurts instead of waiting for long stretches of energy I no longer have.

Of course, some days everything falls apart.

Pain. Setbacks. Scary test results. Suddenly, I’m watching Instagram reels or TV for hours. My mental health slips along with my structure. Sometimes it takes days to find my rhythm again.

A part of me still bargains: “You’ve been so good—you can skip the meditation music and watch TV before bed.” Then the next night. Then the next. Eventually, sleep suffers, mood dips, and I feel further from myself—as I shared in my last article.

Now, I see the true purpose of discipline—to have freedom within the rules that support my body, soul, and spirit. To maintain flexibility and adapt based on circumstances. To lean into the checklist I know works and stay anchored to the routines that support my health, identity, and peace of mind, even when things feel unstable. Because it’s through discipline that I’ve been able to feel more like my warm, adventurous, playful, loving self again.

It’s about understanding my relationship with control so the energy is loving and supportive—not rigid or pushing myself or others away. It’s also about trying to manage my mental health, despite obstacles.

I don’t have all the answers. I still slip. I still rebel. But I’m learning to return—because discipline, for me, is now an act of self-love and coming back to self.

Love,
Danielle

P.S. I’ve attached a nice picture of Ian and me at his promotion ceremony. He’s now a Commander!