Making Exercise Less Daunting for Those Who Struggle to Get Out of Bed

You cannot deny it: we are constantly being hit by information. Whatever platform or app we open, there is content. Verified or unverified. Viral or not. It's there for our brains to absorb.

And of late, I have seen a LOT of content around living longer, becoming stronger, optimizing your health, building discipline, training harder, etc.

None of this is bad, of course.

Because for someone who is in a relatively okay space mentally and physically, this may feel doable and even energizing!

But my mind always goes back to the people for whom getting through the day is already an act of effort.

Whether it's people living with depression or anxiety, moms with postpartum, people who have lost loved ones, people who are caregivers...

It could also be people who are managing burnout, overwhelm, hormonal changes, perimenopause, menopause, chronic stress, or simply the invisible exhaustion that life sometimes brings (which I can vouch for).

For many of us, there are days when showering, replying to a message, eating a proper meal, or getting out of bed already requires immense energy. And in those moments, the constant stream of “you can do it if you push yourself harder” content can feel less inspiring and more alienating.

Because what if you are already pushing? What if you are already doing the best you can? Your best may not look and feel like that woman who is lifting weights on your screen. Or it may not look and feel like that man who is on a hike with his dog.

And I want to say that is completely OK.

Recently, I came across something (content, obviously) that stayed with me and made me think harder (and is the reason for this post).

It spoke about how walking for about 40 minutes, three times a week, has been linked to measurable increases in hippocampal volume (the part of the brain involved in memory and learning).

What stayed with me was not the neuroscience itself, although that was fascinating. It was the gentleness of it.

They're not suggesting an extreme workout. Just… walking.

Which is an everyday act that many of us dismiss because it feels “too easy” to measure (and I am not talking about 10000 steps).

I believe we have been conditioned to believe that meaningful change must come through intensity.

That healing must hurt. That growth must be dramatic and Instagram-worthy.

That struggle is only the visible kind. Sweating and grunting and six packs. We forget the struggles that are internal or the scars that are not visible.

As a recovering people-pleaser and perfectionist, I have had to change how I think about getting healthy in a drastic way. It starts with the mindset. I realized that many of the biggest shifts in my own life have not come from intensity. They have come from consistency. From simple things repeated quietly.

Like meditating (not every day but most days)

Like taking naps when I want to (without the guilt)

Like eating healthy or clean (when I can)

Like increasing my protein intake (again, when I can)

Like journaling (thrice a week for now, but no pressure on myself)

Like going for therapy (my version of self-care)

So why can't we try this same approach with how we view exercise?

Start with a walk.

Get some fresh air or sunlight.

Feel the blood moving in your legs.

Maybe you slow down to notice a plant, a cat, or a rock.

Maybe you meet someone you know.

Maybe you sit on a bench and take 3 deep breaths.

Maybe you say a thank you to yourself for getting out of the house

Any and all of this can allow your nervous system to soften for a moment.

As someone who works in mental health and also lives as a human being trying to navigate life, I keep returning to this thought:

Wellbeing does not always arrive through force. Sometimes it arrives through small rituals we can actually sustain.

Try...

A 10-minute short walk when things feel heavy. Don't think "steps", just walk.

Sit outside for ten minutes.

Stretch at home.

Drink water.

Call or text someone safe.

Do less instead of more.

Skip a routine, it's OK. This teaches you to be compassionate with yourself.

While writing this, I got a timely reminder too:

You do not always have to push harder to heal. Sometimes the most profound changes happen quietly, one small step at a time.

And sometimes you fall and falter and fail. And you find a way to start again, with softness.