I woke up at 5:14 AM yesterday. Not because I wanted to, and certainly not because I’m one of those “high achievers” who tackles a three-mile run and a green smoothie before the sun even thinks about showing up. I woke up because the neighbor’s cat decided my windowsill was the perfect place for a pre-dawn vocal warm-up. But as I lay there, staring at the gray light filtering through the blinds, I felt that familiar, nagging itch. You know the one. That internal voice that whispers, “Well, since you’re up, you might as well be productive.”
I almost did it. I almost reached for my phone to check my emails, or my calendar, or one of those habit-tracking things that tells me I haven’t drank enough water. But then I stopped. I just stayed there, under the covers, listening to the radiator hiss and the world slowly waking up. And it hit me: when did we all become so obsessed with “optimizing” every single waking second of our lives?
It feels like we’ve turned existence into a giant logistics project. If we aren’t “crushing it,” we’re falling behind. If our hobbies aren’t generating a side income, they’re a waste of time. It’s exhausting. And honestly? I think I’m done with it. I want to talk about the beauty of being a bit of a mess, and why the best parts of life are usually the ones we didn’t plan for at all.
The Cult of the “Perfect” Morning
We’ve all seen the videos. You know—the ones with the crisp white linens, the perfectly aesthetic glass of lemon water, and the person who looks like they’ve never hit the snooze button in their entire life. They talk about “winning the morning” as if the first hour of your day is a competitive sport. For a long time, I bought into it. I really did. I bought the journals, I tried the meditation apps, and I tried to force myself to love the cold air of a 6 AM living room.
But here’s the reality for most of us: mornings are usually a bit chaotic. Sometimes the coffee tastes a little burnt because you forgot to clean the pot. Sometimes you spend ten minutes looking for a matching sock. And that’s okay. There’s a certain kind of pressure that comes with trying to start your day “perfectly” that actually makes the rest of the day feel more stressful. If you “fail” at 7 AM, it feels like the whole day is a wash.
Lately, I’ve been trying something radical. I just… wake up. Sometimes I read a few pages of a book that has nothing to do with work. Sometimes I just stare out the window while the kettle boils. It’s not “productive” by any modern standard, but it makes me feel like a human being rather than a machine warming up for its daily tasks.
When Hobbies Became Hustles
I remember when people used to have hobbies just because they liked them. My dad used to spend hours in the garage building birdhouses that, quite frankly, no bird would ever want to live in. They were crooked, the paint was uneven, and he never once thought about selling them on the internet. He did it because he liked the smell of sawdust and the feeling of the wood in his hands.
Now, it feels like every creative outlet is under pressure to be “monetized.” You like to knit? You should start a shop. You enjoy taking photos? You should be building a brand. You’re good at cooking? Why haven’t you started a blog or a video channel yet?
The Death of the Amateur
The problem with turning everything into a “hustle” is that it kills the joy of being an amateur. Being an amateur is great. It means you can do something poorly and it doesn’t matter. You can make mistakes. You can spend three hours painting a landscape that looks like a thumbprint and still have a wonderful afternoon. Once you add the pressure of “success” or “optimization” to a hobby, it stops being a release and starts being another thing on your to-do list.
I’ve been trying to reclaim my “useless” hobbies. I started playing the guitar again. I’m terrible at it. My fingers hurt, I can’t transition between chords smoothly, and I’ll never play in front of anyone. But those twenty minutes of making noise? They’re the most relaxing part of my week because there is zero expectation of excellence.
The Myth of Constant Growth
We live in a culture that treats humans like software. We’re told we should always be “updating,” always “leveling up,” and always striving for a better version of ourselves. And don’t get me wrong, I think learning and growing is part of what makes life interesting. But there’s a dark side to it—the idea that who we are right now isn’t enough.
I think we’ve forgotten how to just be. We’ve forgotten how to sit on a porch and watch the rain without thinking about how we could be using that time more efficiently. We’ve forgotten how to have a conversation without checking our pockets for a notification. We’re so busy building a “better” life that we’re missing the actual life we’re living right now.
- Rest is not a reward for work. You don’t have to “earn” a nap.
- Doing nothing is a skill. It takes practice to not feel guilty about it.
- Efficiency is for factories, not for people.
I spent years feeling guilty if I didn’t spend my weekends “getting ahead.” I’d spend Sunday afternoons cleaning, meal prepping, and planning the week, only to arrive at Monday morning feeling like I hadn’t had a break at all. It took a long time to realize that my value as a person isn’t tied to my output.
Finding Joy in the Inefficient
Think about the things that actually make life feel rich. A long dinner with friends where you lose track of time. A walk in the woods where you get a little bit lost. Reading a long, rambling novel that doesn’t “teach” you anything but makes you feel something deeply. None of these things are efficient. In fact, they’re wildly inefficient. And that’s exactly why they’re important.
I’ve started looking for ways to be more inefficient on purpose. I’ll take the long way home just to see the trees in the park. I’ll write a letter by hand instead of sending a text. I’ll cook a meal from scratch even when a frozen one would be faster. These small acts are like a rebellion against the clock. They remind me that I’m the one in charge of my time, not some invisible standard of productivity.
Practical Ways to Slow Down
It’s not easy to disconnect from the “optimization” mindset. It’s built into the world around us. But there are little things you can do to start pulling back the reins:
- Leave the phone in another room. Even for just an hour. The physical distance changes your brain’s “standby” mode.
- Stop tracking everything. You don’t need to know exactly how many steps you took or how many minutes you spent in deep sleep every single day. Trust your body a little more.
- Say “no” to the side hustle. If you love doing something, consider keeping it just for yourself. It’s okay to have a secret joy.
- Embrace the “good enough.” Your house doesn’t have to look like a magazine. Your work doesn’t have to be a masterpiece every day. Sometimes, “good enough” is a triumph.
The Scary (and Beautiful) Quiet
I think the reason we keep ourselves so busy, so “optimized,” is that the alternative is a bit scary. When you slow down, you have to sit with your own thoughts. You have to face the quiet. And in that quiet, we might realize things we’ve been trying to avoid—that we’re tired, or lonely, or that we aren’t actually sure if we’re on the right path.
But the quiet is also where the good stuff is. It’s where creativity actually comes from. You can’t have a new idea if your brain is constantly being fed data and tasks. You need the “boredom” to let your mind wander into the corners it usually ignores. I’ve had more “aha!” moments while washing dishes or staring at a blank wall than I ever have while staring at a spreadsheet.
It’s a strange thing to advocate for—doing less. It goes against everything we’re taught from the time we’re kids. But I’m finding that the less I try to optimize my life, the more I actually enjoy it. The coffee tastes better when I’m not drinking it while reading “top ten ways to be more successful.” The weekends feel longer when they aren’t scheduled down to the fifteen-minute block.
The End of the Day
It’s getting late as I write this. The house is quiet, and I can hear the wind picking up outside. A few years ago, I would have been looking at my watch, calculating how many hours of “optimal” sleep I could get if I went to bed right this second. I would have been worrying about whether this article was “good enough” or if I should have spent the evening doing something more “useful.”
But tonight, I’m just going to finish this thought and go sit on the couch for a bit. Maybe I’ll watch the shadows on the wall, or maybe I’ll just listen to the wind. It’s not a productive use of my time. It won’t help me reach my goals. It won’t make me a better version of myself tomorrow.
And that’s exactly the point. We are more than our output. We are more than our routines. We are living, breathing, messy humans who are allowed to just exist without an agenda. So, if you’re reading this and feeling that pressure to go, go, go—maybe take this as your permission to just stop for a second. Breathe. Be a little bit inefficient. It’s a lot more fun than it sounds.