Behind-the-Scenes Unscripted: Breathing Through the Mundane

Reflections from the edges of my every day—where the chaos hums, the air shifts, and meaning quietly unfolds.

By WriterRenea—Fractional Marketing & Communications Consultant (100% authentically written with a little help from proofreading AI because you should never proofread your own work alone.) For Short Attention Spans: Peek into my work day-to-day world of backyard musings, quiet resets, and the subtle places where creativity takes root. A quick 5-minute read—stay with me to the end and see what small moments might spark your own.

Where the personal meets professional

As a marketing strategist, writer, and fractional creative partner, I spend my days crafting stories and digital campaigns for other people’s brands. Yet behind every campaign and clever line lives my own daily narrative—one shaped by messy to-do lists, little garden victories, evening resets, and stolen moments of stillness.

This is where my creative perspective is born. It’s proof that even marketers need to refill the well, breathe through the mundane, and find meaning tucked into ordinary corners.

My evening reflection from my patio

I sit in my favorite wicker rocker on my back patio, watching the pink sky grow dimmer as the sun sets. I’m reminded how my orbit seems like organized chaos not progressing in a linear fashion my analytic brain favors—with endless “should-do” lists to sort out later. In reality, I’m ebbing and flowing effortlessly through career pivots, client partnerships, purposeful work and on the home front.

Outside, I’m surrounded by empty pots reminding me to plant some of my favorite floral species and by a small garden bed where two varieties of tomatoes and peppers grow alongside Thai basil and marigolds—all started by seeds this past spring.

The dipladenia bursts in shades of hot pink spilling over the sides, longing to be fancily tied to a stake for best display—yet another task on my list. Bright yellow daisies shoot upward, stretching toward the sky, hoping to catch the last sliver of sun. My foxglove has shed its pinkish-purple bells, yet still stands tands tall, as if to say, “I have more to give.”

Fireflies twinkle across the freshly cut lawn. The fence line glows in the dusky light, framing this large, mostly unused yard that’s mine to dream of landscaping, another hobby I have no time for.

It’s peaceful here. The birds have settled in for the night, leaving only the occasional soft bark of a dog or the quack of ducks in the pond across the way. Then the harsh roar of the AC unit breaks in, jarring me for a moment before fading into white noise.

The rhythm of my workdays

It’s been a long day, like so many others. Rinse and repeat: wake up, coffee and eggs, then stretching my body in all sorts of angles to work out the kinks. I settle into my cushioned “executive” chair in my home office, flip open the laptop, and open five web pages to kickstart my day. In these early hours, I’m hopeful—excited by my plan, by new adventures, small but mighty moments I create to help others shine.

I sprint through a few hours before taking a much-needed break, both physically and mentally. I swing open the back patio door to what feels like another realm, where 80-degree heat envelops me like a winter blanket. I embrace it, breathe, and admire my garden, gently rearranging plants and hunting for the fruits of my labor. Yet it’s still too early to harvest.

My brain kicks back in after 30 minutes after a pause to breathe in between. I head inside, chop up a salad and refocus on my next action item even as I savor my brief outdoor escape.

The mid-day sprint

I eat at my clutter-free dining table—a space I claim daily for meals instead of my desk or the sofa. Still, I end up scrolling through entertaining videos liking and loving my clients and colleagues and peers “published works” or peeking at the news until I’m going down the rabbit hole with fake media. I vocalize, “Alexa, play my favorite music,” and it resets my mood.

Back to work—but this time on my theater sofa, legs up, chair reclined, powering through the next assignment.

My schedule shifts day by day. Like today, I was “on” until 6:30 p.m., bouncing between two different projects with two different clients in real time.

Just as I’m about to call it a night, one client reaches out. Thankfully, it’s casual and affirmative—not a “let’s finish this tonight” situation—and I’m relieved because they get that the best work is performed while fresh and energized.

The part where life interrupts and it’s so necessary

My son walks in the door, and I greet him with half a mind, multitasking to close out my day. Moments later, my partner arrives and literally interrupts my train of thought with a “Honey, I’m home” kiss. That’s my cue: time to close the laptop and turn off my power house of a work brain.

My partner has this way of enjoying life’s moments, while I’m usually the observer—behind the scenes, analyzing, taking notes, reporting on the action. He’s my gentle reminder to join in. So I end my day and give my family what’s left of my mental energy and surprisingly, it recharges me.

Sometimes I get to catch up with my adult kids too—like my daughter, who’s a mini-me in many ways. I just hope I’m providing the right woman-to-woman coaching for her at this stage of her life. She needs a sisterhood like so many of us women do to lean on, learn from and lead with. She has yet to find hers.

But that’s for another entry. Right now, the mosquitoes have found me, their bites destined to become itchy hives in two days. I head back inside, into the sterile AC and my modest humble abode— still grateful that my family is here, present, with me.

Why this matters to me—and my work

I share this not because it’s profound or unique, but because it’s the honest ground where my creativity grows right alongside the tomatoes, the marigolds, and the unchecked to-do lists that follow me wherever I go, the curse of the overachiever.

This is the texture behind the marketing strategies, campaigns, and content I build for my clients and their brands, the proof that stories don’t just live in boardrooms or brand decks. They start right here, in small backyards, in creative minds of the restless, and in moments of reflections like these.

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