Some mornings, I wake up with sunshine in my chest light, warm, and eager to greet the day. Other times, I carry a quiet storm behind my eyes, heavy and unsettled. For a long time, I didn’t know how to explain this shift. I’d tell myself I was “just tired” or “overthinking,” brushing off what felt like chaos under my skin. But eventually, I started paying attention not just to how I felt, but why I felt that way.
I began to think of my emotions like weather patterns. Just like the sky, my internal climate changes sometimes subtly, sometimes all at once. And just like outside weather, it doesn’t define me. It just is.
Here’s how I started identifying the weather inside me?
1. Naming It Without Judging It
Instead of forcing myself to feel better or “snap out of it,” I learned to pause and name what I was feeling. “This feels like fog.” “This is a thunderstorm kind of day.” “This morning feels like spring.”
When I name the emotional weather, I take the first step in making peace with it. I don’t have to fix it right away. I just need to notice it.
2. Tracking Patterns
I began jotting down my moods not every day, but when something felt different. I noticed that certain triggers, cycles, even foods or conversations, seemed to stir certain weather patterns in me. Hormones, lack of sleep, overbooking myself these things often brought emotional rain.
Learning my patterns helped me stop blaming myself for every dip in energy or wave of sadness. Some storms are seasonal. Some are signals. Some just pass.
3. Asking My Body What It Needs
When I’m feeling “cloudy,” I ask: What would help me feel 10% better? A walk? A cry? A nap? A song I haven’t heard in a while?
Sometimes, the answer is “just ride it out.” Other times, it’s a gentle shift stretching, journaling, canceling a plan. It’s not always about “fixing” the weather. It’s about treating myself kindly while it passes.
4. Letting the Sun Count, Too
It’s easy to focus on the dark days, but part of this journey is also celebrating the light ones. When I feel joyful, calm, or grounded, I try to pause and soak it in. I remind myself: This counts, too.
Mood swings don’t mean I’m broken. They mean I’m human. The key is learning how to read my own forecast.
Final Thought:
We at Mentoring Minds Counsellors would not criticise the sky for raining. We don’t scold the wind for blowing too hard. So why do we treat ourselves like we’re wrong for feeling deeply?
The weather inside me isn’t good or bad. It just speaks. And I’m learning to listen.
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