A daily shift that is working for me...

So here’s the thing: I’ve been thinking a lot about this idea of just making something 1% better. Not “walk into a room and clean the entire thing from top to bottom while sobbing into your cold coffee” better. Not “organize like The Home Edit with rainbow bins and matching labels” better. Just… one percent. A nudge. A teeny, tiny shift.

You’ll hear me talk about this a lot on this blog, because it’s kind of become my go to in this season. Even writing this blog post. (Do you know how many times I’ve sat down to write and thought, “Well, I can’t finish the WHOLE post, so why even start?” Spoiler: a lot. So today I said, fine, just write one messy paragraph. One percent. Here we are.)

Let me give you an example. My son’s room.

This room...deep breath, causes me SO MUCH anxiety. When he was little, it was my happy place. He’s my first child, and I designed that room. For a long time, it was my favorite spot in the house. When it was tidy and magical, I felt like, yes, I am a good mom. Like somehow the organized bookshelf and cute bedding meant I was also building him a good life. (That is… a lot of pressure to put on a single room, I know.)

Fast forward: he’s older now. He has his own interests, habits, and let’s just call the vibe creative chaos. His room is HIS sanctuary. The other day he actually said to me, “Mom, you like things tidy, but I feel relaxed in a mess. I love and feel at peace in a messy environment.”

(At which point I had to just sit down and breathe into a paper bag because… what?)

So yeah, I’m learning to let go. A little. Maybe a lot.

What I do now is this: I walk in, take a look at the piles, and instead of trying to fix everything, I pick one thing. Just one. I’ll put away a stack of books. Or shove the laundry into the basket and put it in another basket. It’s not Instagram-worthy, but it’s better. And, weirdly, it feels like letting go.

I’ve started doing this everywhere. In my office at work (goodbye, dead plant). At home (five minutes of laundry instead of all of it which would take “five hundred million minutes” (What my daughter says when something takes too long).

The space shifts. My mood shifts. It’s not perfect, but it’s slightly cooler than it was before.

And honestly? That’s enough for now.