The Meeting Before the Meeting
I used to prep for every work call like I was defending a thesis. Twenty minutes of bullet points, backup slides, alternative explanations for when the first explanation inevitably fell flat. The kind of preparation that made me feel professional but left me exhausted before the actual conversation even started.
Somewhere around March, I realized I was spending more time preparing to talk about the work than actually doing it. Now I show up with maybe three key points scribbled on whatever’s closest to my keyboard. Turns out most people prefer the unpolished version anyway. They want to solve problems, not watch presentations.
Apologizing for Taking Up Space
I stopped saying sorry before asking questions in meetings. “Sorry, this might be obvious, but…” became just “Quick question about the timeline.” The word count dropped by four, but something bigger shifted. I wasn’t auditioning for permission to speak anymore.
This extends beyond conference rooms. I stopped apologizing for ordering something complicated at coffee shops, for taking a moment to count exact change, for existing at a pace slightly different from everyone else’s. The barista at my usual place started remembering my order around the same time I stopped prefacing it with “if it’s not too much trouble.”
Small thing, but it turns out confidence tastes better in a cortado.
Chasing the Dopamine of Productivity Theater
My to-do lists used to be performance art. Color-coded, categorized, with enough detail to reconstruct my entire thought process from three months ago. I’d spend Sunday evenings crafting the perfect system, convinced that *this* would be the week I achieved inbox zero and remembered to water the plants.
Now I write tomorrow’s priorities on a sticky note before I close my laptop. Three things max. Usually it’s something like “finish the Johnson proposal, grocery store, call mom.” Nothing revolutionary, but I actually do these things instead of spending energy managing the list of things I should do.
The elaborate systems felt productive in the moment, like I was taking control. Really I was just avoiding the uncomfortable reality that most productivity problems aren’t system problems. They’re priority problems, or energy problems, or “I don’t actually want to do this thing” problems. A better app can’t fix that.
Optimizing Every Single Thing
I used to research the best route to everywhere, even places I’d been dozens of times. Best parking, best time to arrive, best backup plan for the backup plan. Google Maps became my security blanket, and I’d check it compulsively even when I knew exactly where I was going.
This year I started just… going places. Taking the route that felt right, parking wherever looked reasonable, showing up when I showed up. Sometimes this means walking an extra block. Sometimes it means hitting traffic I could have avoided. Most of the time it means I’m present for the actual journey instead of anxiously managing it.
The same thing happened with my morning routine. I stopped timing my coffee to the minute, stopped calculating exactly how long I needed to walk the dog to optimize my schedule. Some mornings we take the long route because the light is good. Some mornings I drink my coffee cold because I got distracted by something interesting. The world didn’t end. My days got better.
Keeping Up With Everything
I unsubscribed from newsletters that I never actually read but felt like I should. The design ones, the industry updates, the carefully curated selections of things other people thought I needed to know. My inbox went from 47 unread emails every morning to maybe three that actually matter.
Same with podcasts. I stopped adding shows to my queue just because everyone was talking about them. Now I listen to maybe four podcasts regularly instead of maintaining a backlog that made me feel perpetually behind. Turns out the world keeps turning even when I’m not consuming every piece of content that crosses my path.
This isn’t about being uninformed. It’s about choosing what gets my attention instead of letting everything compete for it. I know more about the things I actually care about now. The rest is just noise anyway.
What’s Left
The weird thing about stopping these habits is how invisible the change feels day to day. I don’t wake up feeling dramatically different or liberated. I just have more space for the stuff that actually matters. More time to notice that the coffee shop changed their playlist, or that my neighbor finally painted their fence, or that I’ve been holding my shoulders too high again.
Maybe that’s what most good changes look like. Not revelation, just a gradual shift toward paying attention to what’s actually in front of you instead of optimizing everything around you. Worth considering what you might quietly stop doing next year.
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