15 unglamorous rituals that keep me sane
the unsexy scaffolding that holds my life together
I've been thinking about the word "ritual" lately, how it carries this weight of ceremony and meaning that feels almost embarrassing to apply to something as mundane as going for a walk or making sure the sink is clean before bed. But maybe that's exactly the problem—we've relegated ritual to the sacred, the special, the performed, when the most powerful ones are often the ones no one sees.
Most of these aren't impressive. They're not aesthetic. They're not part of a "routine" I show off or document. But they keep me clear. Sane. Functional. They're systems I built—or stumbled into—that reduce friction and prevent spirals. I don't follow them perfectly. But when I do, life moves with a little more ease.
These aren't hacks. They're agreements I've made with myself. And they work because the equation is embarrassingly simple: I do the rituals, I feel good. I don't do the rituals, I feel bad. That feedback loop keeps me showing up again and again, not because I'm disciplined, but because I'm fundamentally lazy and have learned that doing these small things now prevents me from having to do much harder things later.
Each one functions as both a pre-decision and an ongoing agreement. Pre-decision because I've already determined what I'll do instead of having to choose in the moment when my capacity for good choices might be compromised. Agreement because every time I show up, I'm recommitting to the person I want to be.
1. daily walks with my dogs
I walk almost every day, mostly with my dogs. It's not for exercise, although that's a side effect. It's about clarity. Movement regulates me. Being outside, moving through space with no input—no phone, no podcast—helps me get back to a baseline where I can think again. I started doing it for them, but it turns out I needed it just as much. I feel “off” if I have to skip a day because of weather or some other unforeseen circumstance.
2. making my bed in the morning
This started during the pandemic when I was home all day and hated walking by a room that looked messy. It's not about military precision or morning motivation—it's about not wanting to live in visual chaos. To be honest, I’m a pretty still sleeper so this doesn’t require much effort, but the impact of doing this has been huge for my mental clarity. When the bed is made, the room feels intentional instead of abandoned. It's a small signal that someone cares about this space, even if that someone is just me.
3. Sunday resets
Sunday is my version of a reset button. I bathe the dogs, wash all the bedding, and clean the house. It's not a performance of cleanliness. It's maintenance. A way to take care of the things and spaces that take care of me. If I skip it, I feel it. Things get fuzzy, cluttered, reactive. So I try my best not to skip it.
4. clean sink before bed
There's a rule in my house: don't go to bed with a messy kitchen. A clean sink isn't about aesthetics—it's about removing mental static. If I wake up and there's nothing to fix, I can move forward. If the first thing I see is chaos, it sets a tone I have to spend the rest of the morning recovering from.
5. put things back where they go
I learned that putting things back as I use them is the difference between having energy and chasing entropy all day. It's a form of respect for my own future bandwidth. It also keeps me from spending an hour looking for something that should've taken five seconds to return to its home.
6. prepping around my cycle
When I know my period is coming, I start clearing things off my plate in advance. I cook more. I complete work that I might not have the energy to complete when I’m in pain. I make sure my bathroom is nice and clean. There's no point pretending I'll have the same capacity because I don't. Planning for it isn't dramatic or precious—it's just intelligent. There's power in anticipating our own fluctuations.
7. lifting and cardio 4x a week
My brain works better when I lift heavy things. Four days a week is the minimum. Some sessions are great, some are half-assed, but the act of showing up matters more than the quality. I move my body so my mind doesn't calcify. Cardio is where I get quiet. Lifting is where I get sharp.
8. making coffee at home
Another pandemic ritual I acquired: I stopped buying coffee out. Not because I'm strict about spending, but because it started my days in disappointment. The order was wrong, or it was too sweet, or the line was annoying. Now I just make it myself. It's cheaper. Better. And more importantly, it reminds me the first part of my day is mine.
9. giving strangers the benefit of the doubt
If someone cuts me off in traffic or acts like a jerk in public, I default to generosity. Not because I'm virtuous—because I'm selfish. Letting random people ruin my day is expensive. Assumed innocence is a way of keeping my nervous system from spiraling on their behalf.
10. using FSD in traffic
I use Full Self-Driving mode in my Tesla, especially during high-traffic hours. It's safer, yes, but it also keeps me from gripping the wheel like I'm in a war zone. I don't need to be reactive to everyone else’s rushed chaos. Let the car drive. Let me breathe.
11. doing my own nails
*Another* pandemic ritual: I bought a full gel nail kit and taught myself how to do my own manicures and pedicures. I still haven't gone back and I don’t think I ever will. It's cheaper, more consistent, and weirdly meditative. No phone, no stimulation—just hands, polish, time. The act of caring for yourself without outsourcing it is a kind of power no one talks about.
12. lemon-lime ice cubes for water
This one probably seems silly but it’s been a game-changer. Once a week, I squeeze lemons and limes, pour the juice into ice cube trays, and freeze them. When I do this, I inevitably drink more water because I made the process easy. That's the trick: when I do the work ahead of time, I don't have to fight myself later. (If you’re wondering what the fight is about, I’ve developed a taste for only lemon-lime water, so if I don’t have lemon-lime on the ready, I simply won’t drink until I’m absolutely parched LOL)
13. one offline day per week
Part of my Sunday reset is that I usually take Sundays completely offline (or mostly offline). No apps, no posting, no emails, no checking in. It doesn't always go perfectly, but when I stick to it, I feel it. My brain defrags. My reactions slow down. I remember what it's like to exist without being witnessed.
14. candles in the morning
I light candles in the morning to start the day with intention. If the house smells good, if the air feels cared for, I tend to be more focused. It's a small sensory signal that says: something begins here. Even if I don't have a plan for the day yet, the act of lighting something on purpose helps give it a shape.
15. daily journaling with AI
I journal every day, and then feed those entries to AI that analyzes patterns over time, helps me see where I'm getting stuck, where the same spirals keep appearing. It's like having a witness to my own mind—not judgmental, just observant. Sometimes it catches things I miss, and interrupts feedback loops before they calcify into something harder to break.
This practice is something I share with my paid subscribers as THE DAILY 5 framework. Anti-self-help for people who want to be intentional with their self-pursuit but are sick of the self-care industrial complex and self-help overwhelm. You can find more info about it here.
The 5-minute daily ritual that changed how I think
THE DAILY 5 is a weekly journaling practice for people who want to understand themselves better—but don’t have hours to reflect every day. It’s structured, intentional, and grounded in real self-awar…
why these rituals work—
What I'm describing isn't revolutionary. It's not even interesting, at least not in the way our culture defines interesting. But maybe that's the point. We live in an age of infinite optimization content, yet most of us feel increasingly unmoored. The contradiction isn't that we lack systems—it's that we've confused systems that serve algorithms with systems that serve our actual nervous systems.
These rituals work not because they're perfect but because they're mine. They've emerged from paying attention to what actually makes me feel stable versus what I think should make me feel stable. When I make coffee at home instead of buying it out, refusing to start my days in disappointment over wrong orders or long lines, I'm claiming ownership over how I begin. It's a small rebellion disguised as practical planning.
There's something almost architectural about building a life this way—laying down small, consistent foundations that hold up the larger structure of days and weeks and months. The lemon-lime ice cubes seem absurdly simple, but they illustrate something important: when I do the work ahead of time, I don't have to fight myself later. I drink more water not because I'm disciplined but because I made it easy.
The agreements aren't perfect because I'm not perfect. They're not about transcending my humanity but working with it. Some mornings I don't want to write. Some Sundays I skip the reset. Some days I let the dishes pile up and wake to chaos anyway. But the framework remains—a structure I can always return to.
In a world obsessed with productivity theater and optimization performance, maybe the most radical thing is building a life that serves you instead of serving the idea of who you should be. These rituals aren't meant to impress. They're meant to work. And in that unglamorous consistency, there's a kind of freedom I never found in the flashier systems I tried before.
If any of this resonates, consider it permission to build boring systems that work instead of impressive ones that don't. To design around your actual capacity instead of your ideal self. To make unglamorous agreements with the person you'll be next week when things get hard. The most radical thing you can do is pay attention to what you actually need, then build small, consistent ways to give it to yourself.
XO, STEPF
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These are some great rituals and many that I have adopted myself. Love the idea of a Sunday reset!
i love that you talk about building around your actual capacity instead of your ideal self! i feel like most self help or rituals i try to incorporate aren’t realistic for where i am right now and are hard to maintain. this served as a reminder to meet myself where i’m at and start paying attention to what works for me :)