8 Grounding Habits That Don’t Involve Yoga, Breathwork or Buying a Course

Healing Without the Hashtag

Look, I love a moment. I’m the first one to light an incense stick labelled “Grounding” while dramatically exhaling through my nose like I’ve just released seven generations of ancestral trauma. But the thing is? I’m also deeply over the idea that healing has to come with a monthly membership fee and a curated aesthetic. Not everything needs to be monetised. You don’t need a $300 certification to remember you’re a human with a body.

Grounding has become yet another thing the algorithm wants to sell us. It’s yoga flows with oat milk smoothies, deep breathy voiceovers telling you to release what doesn’t serve, and captioned reels that always end with “link in bio for the full course”. Babe, healing shouldn’t cost your grocery budget. Especially not when Woolies keeps jacking up the price of blueberries.

So if you’re craving that grounded, I’m-actually-fine feeling but can’t justify dropping $89.95 on a course called “Reclaim Your Inner Root”, this one’s for you. No breathwork. No yoga. No courses. Just eight down-to-earth, gloriously free grounding habits that don’t require a discount code.

1. Wash the Dishes (Yes, Really)

It sounds unsexy because it is unsexy. But standing at your sink, hands in warm water, focusing on scrubbing a pan that probably just saw too much garlic? That’s meditation. It’s tactile, it’s rhythmic, and it pulls you into your body.

Sometimes I pretend I’m a 1950s housewife, lovingly preparing to poison my husband. Other times I just zone out and let the soap suds take me somewhere peaceful. Either way, my brain gets a break and my kitchen stops looking like a crime scene.

You don’t need a Tibetan singing bowl to get grounded. You just need a sponge, some dishes, and five minutes without your phone.

2. Touch Something That Isn’t Your Phone

I mean it. Reach out and touch something real. Fabric. Stone. Your cat’s murder mittens. Anything physical that doesn’t light up or ding with notifications. I like to run my hand along the brick wall outside, pretending I’m in a dramatic music video. The brick never texts me back, but it does bring me into the present.

Grounding is about coming back into your body. And that starts with your senses. Texture is a powerful anchor. So reach out. Be a weirdo. Stroke your velvet curtains like you’re the Phantom of the Opera. It helps.

Bonus points if you say out loud what you’re touching. “This is my fluffy blanket.” “This is a cold tile.” “This is the cat. The cat is now biting me.”

3. Make a Cup of Tea (But Make It a Ritual)

I’m not saying tea is magic. But I’m also not not saying that. Choose your favourite mug, fill the kettle, and breathe while it boils. Watch the steam curl. Smell the leaves. Stir slowly. It’s a process. Let it be a process.

Sometimes the most grounding part of my day is holding that mug in both hands like I’m in a sad indie film. Especially when I’ve got a cat sitting nearby judging me with his paws tucked under like a croissant. (Lulu knows. He always knows.)

This doesn’t have to be some spiritual event. Just choose a moment. Anchor into it. Let it hold you.

4. Sit on the Floor

Nothing brings you back to earth faster than literally getting down on it. Beds and couches are for lounging. But floors? Floors say “we are humbling ourselves.” Sit. Sprawl. Lie flat like a starfish if you must. Let the ground remind you that it’s solid beneath you.

I have cried on more floors than I care to admit. But I’ve also sat cross-legged in the middle of my hallway, eating an apple and feeling oddly okay again. Something about it strips the noise away. It’s like your nervous system goes, “Oh. We’re safe. We’re still here.”

Try it. And not just during a breakdown. Sit on the floor before the breakdown. Preventative flooring.

5. Talk to Yourself (Out Loud)

Not in a “summon the spirits” way. Just in a “narrate your life like David Attenborough” kind of way. Grounding doesn’t have to be quiet. Sometimes it’s reminding yourself, aloud, “I’m safe. I’m okay. I’m just overwhelmed, and that’s not the same as being in danger.”

Sometimes it’s sassier. “Okay babe, we’re spiralling. That’s fine. But we’re gonna spiral while moisturising, alright?”

Your voice can anchor you. Especially if you’re prone to spiralling in silence. Give your thoughts somewhere to go. Say it. Claim it. Be your own narrator.

6. Clean One Tiny Thing

Not the whole house. Not even a whole room. Just one thing. One drawer. One corner. One dusty baseboard. Sometimes I like to rearrange my wardrobe as if it wasn’t already impeccably in order – but it gives me touch, and purpose, and a sense that I’m lovingly curating my sanity one hanger at a time.

Cleaning can be chaotic and cathartic. It’s movement. It’s reclaiming space. And it doesn’t need to be a massive life overhaul. You don’t need to become a minimalist monk. You just need to feel like one thing is within your control.

Bonus: That one thing often becomes two. And suddenly your chaos goblin brain is soothed.

7. Cook Something From Scratch (Even If It’s Just Toast)

Grounding is about presence. And nothing demands presence like cooking. Chopping, stirring, tasting. It’s like a spell, but with snacks. You’re creating something real with your hands. Something that didn’t exist an hour ago.

Even if it’s just putting butter and garlic on toast and pretending you’re a rustic Italian nonna, it counts. Even if it’s a sad stir-fry made from what’s left in your veggie drawer. Let it be enough. Let it remind you that you’re alive and capable.

I made soup last week while crying. The soup didn’t care. It still turned out amazing. That’s grounding.

8. Name Five Things You Can See

Yes, I know it’s a therapy classic. But hear me out: it works. Especially when you’re mid-spiral and can’t remember if you’re anxious or just overtired and three coffees deep.

Look around. Say it aloud. “I see my unused pink candle I spent too much money on.” “I see the blanket Lulu shredded last week.” “I see a half-drunk matcha latte.” It’s silly. It’s simple. It’s neuroscience. Your brain can’t panic and catalogue your surroundings with that level of detail. It chooses one. And most of the time, it picks calm.

Also: it gives your brain a task. Something to do besides catastrophise. Something to focus on besides your ex’s new girlfriend’s eyebrows.

Healing Shouldn’t Be Paywalled

You don’t have to pay to be present. You don’t have to drop your rent money on a root chakra webinar. And unless you want a literal certification, most of the content in paid healing courses can be found online for free. Books. Podcasts. YouTube. TikTok. ChatGPT, even.

Capitalism wants you to believe you need someone else’s blueprint to come back to yourself. You don’t. You’ve always known how. You just forgot. You got busy. You got overwhelmed. That’s okay.

The earth is still beneath you. The tea still brews. The cat still judges you. You’re still here. Grounding isn’t an aesthetic. It’s a return.

And if all else fails? Sit on the floor and whisper, “This is fine.” It usually is.

We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity

In today's episode of Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity, we're unpacking why we need to stop clapping for basic decency. You know the script. A man texts back within twenty-four hours and we're screenshotting it to the group chat. A man plans a date more than three hours in advance and we call him a unicorn. A man manages to listen, pay attention, and behave like a fully formed adult, and our nervous systems short-circuit because we genuinely don't know how to receive it.Here's the truth nobody is saying out loud. The bar has been dragged so low that Satan himself needs a chiropractor after a competitive round of limbo. We've been culturally trained to be grateful for behaviour that should not require gratitude. We've been told these things are bonuses when they're actually the entry requirement. And in the meantime, women have been quietly doing the basic decency thing forever, without applause, while men get standing ovations for outputs we generated for them.Today we're talking about why a great man is genuinely just an average woman, who benefits when the bar stays low, the invisible labour women have been performing for free for centuries, and the friend-test that cuts straight through every excuse we've ever made for mediocre men. Let's get into it.For more visit BryJaimea.com or follow over on IG @BryJaimea

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