Little Rituals
Meeting up with someone I used to know.
Lately, I’ve been trying to get back to someone I used to know. Me.
Not the hyper-productive, always-online version of myself who lives in to-do lists and unread promotional emails that clog her inbox. Not the version of me who powers through the week only to collapse into the weekend (or, let’s be real, the end of the day), wondering where the time went and if all of what I am doing is even worth it. But the quieter, slower, more present version of myself. The one who used to find joy in the simple, small things that I didn’t even realize until they were gone.
Forgotten, in an odd sort of way, in the midst of change to routine and life.
So, I want to start doing these things again. One by one. I don’t really have any grand plan, but this is more like a scavenger hunt for pieces of myself I’ve misplaced along the way.
For example, there is reading in bed before sleep. Not scrolling. Not skimming headlines in the stress-inducing news of even here on Substack. Just sinking into a book under the warm halo of a bedside lamp, letting the story wrap around me like a blanket until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.
I also want to return to writing at night. You know, when I start to write again. The words make me nervous still which isn’t my favorite thing. But, I want the kind of writing that happens when the rest of the world has gone quiet. The kind where I feel in my own little world. I put on my headphones, cue up one of my old playlists (the moody, late-night one where lyrics feel almost as if they were meant for my WIP), and just let the words spill.
No pressure. No performance. Just me and the keyboard, like it used to be.
I forgot how much peace lives in that space.
Then there’s the occasional book devoured in one sitting. I used to do this often. I would drop myself on the couch one rainy Saturday (or even a sunny one where I should’ve been productive outside) with a novel. I wouldn’t move until it was done. I didn’t want to.
Other rituals are simpler still: a glass of wine on the porch as the sky turns pink, then lavender, then orange. An after-dinner walk with no destination. The kind of things that don’t show up on productivity trackers but leave me feeling more human, more grounded.
These moments aren’t magical fixes. They don’t erase stress or cure existential dread. But they’re breadcrumbs leading me back to something truer. A version of myself that isn’t dictated by algorithms or calendars, but by joy, curiosity, and calm I miss.
If you’re feeling a little lost lately, maybe it’s worth asking: what are the little things you used to love, before the world got so loud?
What would happen if you did one of them again?
