The Morning That Saved My Sanity
There was a morning—somewhere between a red-eye flight to Addis Ababa and a 9 AM workshop—when I found myself sitting on the edge of a hotel bed, utterly hollowed out. I’d been awake for 36 hours. My brain felt like cotton soaked in jet fuel. I was about to walk into a room full of diplomats. Each diplomat was convinced their solution was the solution.
I could feel the stress buzzing in my bones, like I’d swallowed static electricity.
Consequently, I resorted to the only method that has consistently proven effective for me: I headed to the hotel gym.
Not because I felt strong or motivated—I felt like a damp sock. But because I’ve learned that if I can just move my body for 30 minutes and follow it with 10 minutes of stillness, I stand a better chance of not falling apart.
Like many others, my routine didn’t make a significant difference that morning. However, it did prevent me from reacting negatively towards a colleague or losing focus in front of delegates. Sometimes, that is more than sufficient. And sometimes, that’s more than enough.
What I Thought Health Meant (And Why I Was Wrong)
When I first started working , I had a pristine, almost cinematic vision of what being “healthy” looked like: clean food, green juices, early runs, maybe some yoga on weekends. The kind of image you’d find in airport magazines or wellness apps.
I believed I just had to choose to be healthy—and the rest would follow.
Then real life happened.
Constant travel. Living out of suitcases. There were weeks when neither a kitchen nor a gym was available.Stress migraines. Midnight emails across different time zones. It didn’t take long to realize that “wellness”, for me, wasn’t a lifestyle—it was survival. Not a curated vibe, but a sustainable rhythm. Not about fixing myself — but about staying in dialogue with my body and mind.
The Strategies That Fell Apart Fast
I’ve failed at every trendy wellness strategy you can name.
- A 10-day detox that ended with me bingeing on croissants in Geneva airport.
- Using sleep trackers increased my anxiety about sleeping.
The truth? Rigid systems collapse under real pressure. This is particularly true when the strategies don’t cater to your actual circumstances.
My job didn’t pause so I could make match and write morning pages. Only the practices that aligned with who I am and how I live actually stuck. They did not align with who someone else says I should be.
The Small Things That Actually Worked
What remained was a routine built on experience, not idealism. These practices didn’t come from books. They came from necessity.
1. Morning Movement
Whether it’s 20 minutes on a treadmill in Quatre Boren or squats in a cramped hotel room in Moroni, I move my body every morning. It’s not about burning calories, but about settling my nerves, improving clarity, and reconnecting withmyself before the world intrudes. It’s my most efficient tool for resetting the day.
2. Five Minutes of Silence
Some days it’s meditation. Other times, just sitting with my eyes closed, breathing slowly, and letting the noise settle. My grandfather Dharmalingam called this “resetting your centre”. I didn’t understand as a child. Now, it’s my foundation — a simple act of mindfulness that brings coherence to mind and body.
3. Kyokushin Karate
I discovered it in my teens. It’s rigorous and disciplined—everything I needed during years when my life felt unmoored. Where yoga helped me soften, Kyokushin gave me strength. More than fitness, it offered me a structure for resilience.
4. Adaptability Over Perfection
If I can’t do the full routine, I do part of it. If morning gets away from me, I carve out five quiet minutes in an airport lounge. The objective is to maintain alignment, not to tick off a task. Personalizing the routine has made it sustainable.
My Grandfather, the Original Wellness Coach
Dharmalingam was a quiet man with sharp eyes and disciplined habits. He grew vegetables in his Mahé garden, practiced breathing exercises before sunrise, and spoke of balance — not in buzzwords, but in actions.
“If you eat good food but shout at your children, that’s not health,” he once told me.
His definition of wellbeing was holistic and profoundly simple. There were no universally applicable solutions. No metrics. All that matters is daily alignment.
I didn’t fully grasp that wisdom back then. Now I live by it.
What the Islands Taught Me
I’ve worked across Madagascar, the Comoros, Mauritius, and the Seychelles. Each island has taught me that well-being doesn’t always come from effort — sometimes it comes from rhythm.
- In the Comoros, meals weren’t just meals — they were ceremonies of connection.
- In Madagascar, I saw how walking — unhurried and present — could restore a sense of calm better than any high-intensity routine.
- In Mauritius, faith and ritual provided emotional clarity in turbulent times.
- In the Seychelles, the ocean reminded me that nature is its own form of medicine.
None of these were labelled “wellness”. Yet each one reflected a deeply mindful, personalised approach to health — born from community, culture, and time.
What Nobody Tells You About Staying Healthy in Global Work
You will mess up.
You’ll skip workouts. Eat badly. Lose touch with your body. Overthink. Under-sleep. It’s inevitable.
But that’s where real wellness begins — not in avoiding imperfection, but in returning to what steadies you. Over and over.
Wellness in global work isn’t about rigid plans or flawless mornings. It’s about efficiency — what helps you feel human, quickly and reliably — and personalization, so you don’t outsource your wellbeing to trends or gurus.
I’ve had colleagues raise eyebrows at my gym sessions or wonder why I block time for “nothing.” I’ve stopped explaining. I perform better — and relate better — when I honour what keeps me grounded.
What I’m Still Learning
Now that retirement is approaching, a new question has surfaced:
How do I remain balanced when the external structure falls away?
For decades, urgency gave my days shape. Without it, I must return to an internal rhythm. Wellness, I now realize, isn’t about control. It’s about listening closely. It’s about adapting efficiently and continuing to show up with care.
Final Thoughts
You know that feeling when you finally do the one thing that makes you feel like yourself again?
That exhale, that sense of “Yes, I’m okay”?
That’s what this is about.
Not performance. Not perfection. Just real alignment. Just showing up for the small things that actually work for you — consistently, patiently, mindfully.
Are you still finding your way?
So am I. Let’s keep going — gently, wisely, and together.
L J Padayachy 
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