Being rigid won’t win you gold stars.

I used to think thriving meant perfect planning—scheduling every moment and always staying on track. But life? It’s messy. Full of surprises. The world changes, and so do our minds. Eventually, you reach a point where optimizing everything just makes you feel like a robot vacuum endlessly bumping into the same corner. 

Being rigid and overly disciplined won’t win us any gold stars. It doesn’t make people like us more or guarantee things will go as planned. Instead, it leaves us frustrated and robs us of joy. You get it if you’re a recovering perfectionist and chronic overthinker like me. Letting go of rigidity makes room for unexpected wins—better ideas, jobs, relationships, and experiences—that we would have missed out on if we stayed stuck in our tunnel vision.

The past few years have been my crash course in flexibility. Moving to a new state, new cities, pivoting careers, and discovering new interests—all while floundering—have forced me to reassess what I value and how I want to spend my time. Truthfully? I’m still figuring it out, learning how to not just survive but to be more creative with my dreams. And maybe you are too.

It’s almost the new year, so you don’t need another person telling you to reflect, plan goals, and vision board your way to 2025. But here I am, harmonizing with the choir: “Do it.” Especially if you haven’t taken a break from the responsibilities and expectations you carry. Pause, look inward (because comparison is the thief of joy), and sort out your ish. Keep it light, keep it fun, keep it cute. 

My first five months of living in Houston have given me the chance to rethink my rhythms. Since Vadym and I will be here for at least four years, I finally feel planted enough to make long-term plans, and I’m excited to see what my brain comes up with. I’m focusing on fewer, more intentional efforts that’ll compound over time for real fulfillment.

November spooked me with an unexpected lull: projects fell through or were pushed to next year, and I parted ways with a long-term client who had developed a bad habit of paying late. I spiraled from being booked and busy to no paying work. Even though I thankfully still have a decent savings cushion to fall back on, my mind and body usually radiate with a big “YIKES” when uncertainty pops in for a visit.

The election results deepened my dread but somehow also lit a fire in me. After a day of wallowing in my post-election stress and sadness, I sent pitches to dream publications (no responses yet, but I got pitch practice in!), revamped my portfolio (I’m proud of it!), created client case studies (finally!), and booked a second project with a past client (hallelujah!). These intentional actions helped rebuild my confidence and reminded me that progress is fluid.

Flexibility isn’t the opposite of discipline; it makes discipline work in real life. I’m not abandoning my routines or living buck wild. I’m getting more comfortable adapting.

Here’s how I’ve adapted recently:

Fluid schedules: Some mornings start later—gym, work, and all—but I refuse to call it laziness or unnecessarily stress about it. Productivity isn’t about when; it’s about how. Nearly two years after leaving my corporate job, I’m still unlearning the rigid, traditional approach to time.

Ergonomic upgrades: As much as I resisted spending money on a new desk, my body had other plans. My beautiful World Market desk was always too tall for me, and the radiating pain in my right arm and shoulder made it clear that I couldn’t keep ignoring the issue. So, I invested in a quality standing desk that adjusts as low as 23 inches. And just like that, the pain is gone! An unexpected bonus: I gave my old desk to Vadym, and our cozy bedroom has space for two desks. Now, our dining table is clear of his textbooks and tech, which makes setting it for mealtime much easier.

Stretching: Prioritizing running and strength training this year has taken a toll on my physical flexibility, and I’m genuinely sad about it. It’s time to dust off my yoga mat and commit to improving my mobility again.

Flexibility, adaptability, imperfection—they’re all a part of the human experience. I hope you’ll find your rhythm and trust that even wobbly steps can still get you where you want to go.