In the rhythm of my own life, I’ve learned something about myself that I wish I’d picked up years ago: not every day is built the same. Some days pull me toward people… and others push me straight into the quiet corners of work and responsibility. I call them People Days and Paper Days, and honestly, naming them has helped me breathe a little easier.
People Days are the ones where my calendar is full, my phone seems to ring nonstop, and I’m bouncing between conversations, meetings, and moments that ask for my emotional energy. These are days where I’m “on”—listening, encouraging, answering questions, working through problems, trying to be present for the people who matter to me.
Sometimes these days fill me up. Sometimes they wear me out. But almost always, they remind me why relationships are such a gift. God wired us for connection, and even on the days when I’m running on fumes, there’s something sacred in those interactions.
And then there are Paper Days.
These are the days when, honestly, I’d rather just hole up somewhere with a cup of coffee and work. No small talk. No meetings. Just me and whatever task has been staring at me for far too long. Paper Days give me room to think, to plan, to sort out the mess that lives in my inbox and—if I’m being really honest—the mess that sometimes lives in my head.
I’ve started giving myself permission not to force one kind of day to become the other. If it’s a People Day, I lean into it. If it’s a Paper Day, I don’t feel guilty for turning inward. Both types of days serve a purpose. Both shape me. Both move me forward in different ways.
The real trick is paying attention. Just asking myself, “What kind of day do I have in front of me?” And then letting it be that.
Some days I give. Some days I regroup.
Some days I pour out. Some days I refill.
And maybe that’s the quiet wisdom of it all—recognizing the rhythm instead of fighting it. Because when I stop trying to cram everything into every day, life feels a little more manageable… and a lot more peaceful.