Tag: intentional living

The Gift You Give Yourself

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There comes a point in adulthood when you look around at your own life and realize just how much of it was built from other people’s expectations. Parents, partners, coworkers, even strangers on the internet all seem to carry opinions about what a “good” life should look like whether that’s the classic white picket fence and 2 kids, jetting around the world or having that corner office. With the shorter days and colder nights which entice us to stay inside sipping a warm cup of tea, December has a way of handing us a quiet pause in the middle of all that noise. In that stillness you can ask a gentler and more liberating question: What if the best gift you give yourself this year is a life that actually fits you? Not a life you are supposed to want. Not a life that earns gold stars. A life that feels like home when you step into it.

Most of us carry at least a few pieces of life that no longer fit. A commitment you keep out of habit. A routine that once served you but now drains you. A goal you set years ago that you are still dragging around even though it no longer reflects who you are. Just like clothes that shrink in the dryer, some roles tighten over time until they restrict your movement. One of the most compassionate things you can do for yourself is to notice what feels constricting. If something consistently brings dread or resentment, it deserves a second look.

Try asking yourself: What do I continue to do only because I feel I should? What parts of my week feel like a performance? What drains me more than it fills me? These small gut checks can reveal more truth than grand resolutions ever will. Because often resolutions are about adding things to our lives when maybe we should be asking what isn’t serving us anymore. 

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Permission to Want What You Want

Wanting something different for your life can feel almost rebellious. We are taught early that desire is selfish or impractical. Yet desire is really a compass. It points you toward what brings meaning. The permission you refuse to give yourself is often the permission you most need. You are allowed to want a simple life. You are allowed to want a bold one. You are allowed to want rest, creativity, adventure, peace or a mix of them. 

Let go of the guilt around wanting something others do not understand. You do not have to justify your dream life like it is a court case. Your preferences do not require a panel of approval. They only require your honesty. After all, the only person who gets to live your life is you. They have their own. 

Every person inherits a set of default settings. These can be expectations from family, cultural messages or values absorbed without question. Some defaults are helpful. Others keep you living a script that never belonged to you. December is an ideal moment to ask where those settings came from. Did you choose them or were they assigned to you? Are they aligned with who you are now or with a past version of you who no longer exists?

Letting go does not always require a dramatic overhaul. It can be as simple as replacing one outdated belief with a more generous one. It can be as quiet as deciding your worth is not measured by productivity. Sometimes the life that fits begins with subtracting what never matched your shape in the first place.

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Crafting a Life That Fits

Once you clear the space, you can begin creating a life that feels right in your hands. Think of it like tailoring. Small adjustments can change everything. You might shift your morning routine to match your natural rhythm. You might redefine what rest means so it supports you instead of feeling like a guilty pleasure. You might choose relationships that nourish you instead of ones that keep you hustling for belonging.

Crafting a life that fits is not a single grand gesture. It is a set of choices made consistently. When something feels peaceful instead of performative, you are moving in the right direction.

A good life should give you room. Room to breathe. Room to change your mind. Room to fail safely. Room to explore new interests without embarrassment. If your life feels like a tight shoe, it is not a sign that you need to force yourself into it. It is a sign that you need to loosen the laces. When you prioritize a life that can expand with you, you trade perfection for sustainability. You also create conditions in which joy can actually take root instead of feeling like a visitor.

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A Gift You Keep Giving Yourself

The gift of a well-fitting life is not wrapped once and placed under a tree. It is something you give yourself again and again. Through honesty. Through reflection. Through paying attention to what your life is telling you. You will outgrow some things. You will discover new ones. You will learn what brings you back to yourself. The point is not to build a life that looks impressive. The point is to build one that feels true.

As this year winds down, take a moment to appreciate the small ways you have already reshaped your life into something more authentic. And if you have not started yet, that is all right. The gift is not in the timing. The gift is in choosing yourself.

Not All Who Wander Are Lost… But Some of Us Stay Home on Purpose

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The sun peeks through the curtains. The soft chirp of birds is among the first sounds I hear. I burrow deeper into the covers and pull my cat, Luke, in for extra snuggles. I linger in the warmth of the moment, the smell of breakfast floating through the air like a promise. It isn’t until Luke wiggles out of my arms, miffed and hungry, that I finally, reluctantly, stir.

And why should I hurry?

The day stretches out before me, gloriously unstructured. There is no checklist. No Zoom call. No tightly packed schedule to wrestle through. The world may be my oyster, but today, the only oyster I’ll be opening is a good book. This, my friend, is the gentle joy of going nowhere.

My life is full of small adventures. It’s rare for a month to pass without something noteworthy—an art fair, a botanical garden, a random road trip, or simply trying a new café across town. I like having something on the horizon. It gives shape to my days, stirs up my creativity, and helps keep the dull, dragging edge of burnout at bay.

But I’ve learned—sometimes the hard way—not to overdo it. Too much “doing” tips the scales into exhaustion. Even joy can become a chore when overscheduled. My bank account is certainly a grounding force in this, but honestly, the bigger issue is energy. Constant motion, even when enjoyable, can leave me depleted. It turns out that balance isn’t just a nice idea from a wellness podcast. It’s survival.

There’s a particular kind of luxury in staying home on purpose, not because I’m sick, not because I have chores to catch up on, but because I choose to. It’s an act of intentional stillness, of delighting in the familiar. Especially if, like me, you’ve curated your space into a personal sanctuary.

My home holds my books, my tea collection, my cats, my dog, my violin, and my garden. These are not filler items between “real” adventures. They are the adventure. These are things that remind me of who I am when no one else is watching. You may remember that many of these are on my Bucket List, and you’ll find I’m checking them off right from the comfort of my deck with a glass of wine in hand and a sunset to keep me company.

It’s a profoundly healing act to stay home and do…nothing.

In this quiet space, I can finally hear myself think. I’m not trying to wring productivity from every last second like water from a rock. I’m not chasing dopamine hits from Instagram-worthy moments. I’m just being. And in that being, I find presence. Spaciousness. Energy I didn’t know I had.

This is my rebellion against the hustle. A resistance to the noise that tells us we’re only valuable when in motion, only interesting if we’re checking off countries on a map.

Going nowhere lets you find your rhythm again. It allows you to ask, without the usual pressure, “What do I really want today?” And sometimes the answer is “absolutely nothing” in the most glorious way.

Too often, we assume the answers lie far away, on a beach in Bali, on a mountain in Switzerland, in a cottage somewhere in the Scottish Highlands. And yes, those places are beautiful. But they also come with traffic, airports, long lines, and stress. We swap one type of exhaustion for another and call it “escape.” I don’t know about you, but I often need to schedule a rest day just from traveling back from my vacation.

What if, instead of waiting for a two-week vacation to save us, we built tiny vacations into our lives regularly? What if “rest” wasn’t the reward for being good, but the foundation from which we move and make decisions?

We may simplify our lives, but have we simplified ourselves? It’s far easier to declutter your closet than to declutter your expectations. We’re so busy trying to escape our own lives, we forget that it’s possible to build one we don’t feel the need to escape from.

So today, I’m not checking in, checking bags, or checking my itinerary. I’m checking in with myself. I’m home, and that is not the consolation prize.

It’s the destination.