The Moon Is My Reminder: How I Stay Balanced in a World That Never Stops Spinning

There are nights when I step outside, breathe in that cool air, and look up and it feels like the moon is the only one who really gets it. She’s been through her phases a thousand times over, waxing and waning without apology. I see myself in her light. Some nights I’m bright and buzzing, full of energy and plans. Other nights, I’m retreating into shadow, pulling back to rest, to clean out the cobwebs in my mind.

That’s why I use the phases of the moon as my mental health compass. It’s how I remember to pause, to honor my own rhythm in a world that constantly demands more.

When the new moon rises, I treat it like a reset button. It’s my permission slip to start fresh, to clean my space, clear my thoughts, and whisper, “Okay, Jules… what do you need this cycle?” I sit in silence, maybe light a candle, maybe just breathe. It’s blank meditation, not forcing answers, just letting them drift in like moonlight through a curtain crack.

As the waxing moon grows, so do I. I focus on creation and planning, listening to my intuition and making wishes that come from a place of truth and not pressure. I remind myself that small steps are sacred, and progress doesn’t need to be loud to be real.

When the full moon blooms, it’s my recharge point. That’s when I celebrate how far I’ve come, no matter how messy the path was. I give thanks. I charge my crystals, my body, and my spirit. I dance a little, I cry a little and both are valid rituals of release.

And as the waning moon begins to fade, I take it as a cue to let go. Break habits that drain me. Cleanse my spaces. Reflect. Sometimes I burn sage; sometimes I just open a window and let the night air do its work.

Each phase of the moon reminds me that balance isn’t a straight line, it’s a rhythm, a breath, and cycle. Healing isn’t about perfection. It’s about remembering that even when you’re in your shadow phase, the light is still there, waiting for its turn again.

So yeah! In this chaotic world, where the noise never stops and the pace feels impossible, I let the moon be my light bulb. My reminder that it’s okay to dim, to glow, to change. Because like her, I’m always becoming.

🌕 Journal Reflection: Tonight, as I sit under the waxing moon, I feel accomplished and grounded after cleansing the front door space of any lingering energy that didn’t belong. The air feels lighter, the night feels softer. Tomorrow’s moon will shine a little brighter, and so will I.

Now it’s time to slip into stillness and a new series queued up beside my partner, the soft glow of the screen mixing with moonlight through the window. Balance doesn’t always look like meditation or journaling… sometimes, it’s just being.