The Ritual of a Reset

When I came home from the grocery store last Saturday, I opened the freezer, and a block of ice fell from an undetermined place onto the kitchen floor. My kids sometimes fail to close the door all the way, so it didn’t spark concern until I opened the refrigerator door and noticed the air inside was more warm than cold.

I stared at the bags of groceries on the counter and witnessed my brain reorganizing itself around the reality of a broken fridge.

These are the moments where the flash of panic quickly fades into a sudden knowing about what is essential and what needs to be done.

I texted my next-door neighbor, who generously offered up space in their garage fridge and freezer, and we plugged in the mini fridge my son had just brought home from college.

Between the mini fridge and the drinks floating around in a half-melted cooler, our kitchen has been operating more like his actual dorm room than “Mom’s 24-hour Diner”.

At some point, as I walked back and forth to the neighbor’s garage to get what I needed and played multiple games of Tetris to fit the essentials into the mini-fridge, I noticed an unexpected feeling of groundedness.

I noticed it again as I deep-cleaned our broken fridge while waiting for a repair technician to diagnose the problem, order the part, and come back to fix it. And then again, when I wiped down the salvable condiments and tossed the ones with questionable expiration dates.

The broken fridge activated a reset: a cleaning up, a clearing out, and the creation of space.

As we conclude the first half of 2026, I realize that taking a moment to reset has become a recurring practice I didn’t intentionally set out to cultivate.

I don’t just pause to reset at the beginning of the year; I do it almost automatically, anytime there’s a shift in season or energy.

Most days, I’m living in the moment, taking life one week and sometimes one day at a time. Then, something in the atmosphere (the weather, a broken fridge) shifts me out of my daily routine and into reset mode.

This plays out in many ways: I pause to look ahead. I look at my calendar and to-do lists and determine what adjustments need to be made. I clean out a closet. I clear out my inbox and the random screenshots from my camera roll.

Quite often, perhaps daily, I do an internal reset: I light a candle and drink a cup of coffee in the morning. I write. I take a walk. I take a 10-minute nap (don’t knock it till you try it). I drink a full glass of water.

So simple, so automatic that it’s easy to underestimate how essential the ritual of a reset is to our well-being.

The main shift for me this week was seeing the benefit of naming it, turning the reset into something I practice more consciously, rather than on autopilot, a default.

When we name the thing, we give ourselves full permission to lean into it.

What ways do you reset?