Honestly

 Honestly, these days, I make a conscious effort to praise myself for absolutely everything.

Emptied half of the laundry rack? Look at you go. Ironed a shirt for work? An absolute rockstar. Read six pages of a trendy book, realized I hated it, and shut it? Proud of you for setting boundaries. Went out to walk the dog and accidentally logged three miles?

Fitness icon. Just sat there and listened to music? Amazing self-care. Listened to a podcast about Richard Wagner? Look at that intellectual growth. Put on some lipstick? And you look gorgeous, too.

I grew up in a world where the default setting was to criticize people.

Didn’t empty the entire laundry rack? Lazy.

Only ironed one of your shirts? Who’s going to do the rest, the laundry fairy?

Read only six pages and quit? You have to finish what you start.

You were expected to finish boring books, sit through terrible movies, and keep eating uninspiring food just to "clean your plate."

Walked the dog for a whole hour? Just staring at the trees and flowers? What a waste of time, you should be doing something productive. Like emptying the laundry rack and ironing.

Listening to music, watching something completely useless but interesting, and putting on lipstick for no reason? Do you just have zero real responsibilities?

But one day, the flip switched, and I finally realized something: this life is for me.

I am not here to serve the god of perfect organization or domestic perfection.

Comfort and peace of mind are there to serve me, and I will maintain them only to the exact extent that I have the time and energy for.

The book is for me. I am not for the book. If I don't care for some overhyped, trendy bestseller that everyone on social media is raving about, and I’d rather read the classics—I’m going to read the classics, and I couldn't care less if it makes me look outdated. There is always time for music and a good lipstick. And sure, maybe I could have skipped the lecture on Wagner and listened to something practical like neurolinguistics instead, but hey—music is the code of the universe.

Start hyping yourself up for taking ten minutes to just stop and look at some beautiful flowers, and stop beating yourself up over unwashed floors.

As my great-grandmother used to say: "As long as everyone has their health, the floors can wait."