Things I’m currently romanticizing about my life

Lately, I've been trying to romanticize my life. Not in the way social media makes it look, where every morning starts with a perfect cup of coffee, sunlight somehow pours perfectly through the bedroom curtains, and you have enough time to journal for thirty minutes before heading to Pilates. I mean romanticizing the actual life I have. The imperfect one. The one where I don't always wake up motivated, where some days feel repetitive, where my room isn't always clean, where I sometimes spend too much time scrolling on my phone, and where I still have no idea what I'm doing half the time. I've spent a lot of time recently thinking about the things I don't have yet—the goals I haven't reached, the places I haven't gone, the relationships I haven't found, and the version of myself I thought I would be by now. Eventually, I realized I was spending so much time looking at the life I wanted that I wasn't paying enough attention to the life I was already living. So I've been trying something different. I'm trying to notice it.

One of the things I've been romanticizing lately is slow mornings. There is something about waking up and realizing I don't have to immediately jump out of bed and rush into the next thing that makes me feel like my life is more put together than it actually is. I like opening the curtains and letting the morning light into my room, even if I have to squint for a second because my eyes aren't ready for it yet. I like making something to drink and sitting for a few minutes before checking my phone. I like the quiet that exists before the rest of the day starts asking things from me. There is something comforting about having a few moments where nobody needs anything from me and I don't need anything from myself either. I don't have to be productive. I don't have to accomplish anything. I can just sit there and let myself wake up. I've spent so much time believing that every moment has to be useful that I'm learning to appreciate moments that simply feel peaceful. Sometimes the morning doesn't need to lead to anything. Sometimes the morning itself is enough.

I'm also romanticizing writing when nobody is asking me to write. As a writer, I think it's easy to turn something you love into another thing you feel like you have to accomplish. I can sit down with an idea and immediately start thinking about whether it could become a published story, whether people would like it, whether it could turn into something bigger, or whether I'm wasting my time. But sometimes I want to write simply because an idea won't leave me alone. Sometimes I want to create a character and spend an afternoon imagining what she would say in a situation I have never experienced. Sometimes I want to write a paragraph because a sentence appeared in my head while I was doing something completely unrelated and I don't want to lose it. There is something almost magical about starting with a blank page and watching words slowly turn into a person, a conversation, a mystery, or an entire world. Nobody has to read it. Nobody has to applaud it. It doesn't have to become my next big project. Sometimes I just want to be a writer because I love writing. I'm trying to remember that the joy of creating doesn't always have to come with a result attached to it.

I've also started romanticizing getting dressed just because I feel like it. I don't need a party, a date, a special event, or somewhere impressive to go. Sometimes I can put on the outfit I've been saving, do my hair, put on a little makeup, spray some perfume, and go about an otherwise completely normal day. There is something about getting ready when nobody is expecting you to feel different. Maybe it's putting on a pair of earrings just because they make me feel pretty or wearing an outfit I would normally save for a special occasion. Sometimes I'll catch my reflection in the mirror while I'm walking past and think, Okay, I actually look cute today. And I love that feeling because it isn't dependent on someone else noticing me. Nobody has to compliment me. Nobody has to ask where I'm going. I don't have to take a picture and post it. I can simply enjoy the feeling of liking how I look. I'm learning that I don't have to wait for a big moment to feel good about myself. Sometimes Tuesday afternoon is enough.

I'm also trying to get more comfortable going places by myself. This one has taken some getting used to. There was a time when I would automatically think, Who am I going with? before deciding whether I wanted to do something. If nobody was available, I might just stay home. I think part of me associated doing things alone with being lonely, and I didn't want other people to look at me and assume I didn't have anyone to go with. But the more I do things alone, the more I realize that most people aren't paying attention to me nearly as much as I thought they were. I can sit in a coffee shop with my drink and my thoughts. I can walk around a bookstore and take my time looking at the covers without asking anyone if they think I should buy a particular book. I can go shopping without having to compromise on where I want to look. I can take myself somewhere I've been wanting to go simply because I want to go. There is something peaceful about realizing that I don't always need another person beside me to make an experience meaningful. Sometimes being alone gives me the chance to actually notice where I am instead of worrying about whether everyone else is having a good time.

I've also been trying to notice the little things I used to overlook. I think I've spent so much time waiting for big moments that I forgot how much of life happens in between them. A song coming on at exactly the right moment can completely change my mood. Finding a book that makes me stay up later than I intended because I need to know what happens next can make an ordinary night feel special. Laughing with a friend until your stomach hurts. Getting into bed after a long day and feeling the cool sheets against your skin. Freshly washed hair. A clean room. Your favorite meal when you're actually hungry. Getting a text from someone you haven't heard from in a while. Driving around with your favorite songs playing loud enough that you start singing even though you definitely don't sound good. Finishing something you've been putting off and feeling that little wave of relief afterward. These things aren't life-changing, but maybe they don't have to be. Maybe a good life isn't made up entirely of huge, unforgettable moments. Maybe it's mostly made up of tiny moments that we don't realize are special until years later when we wish we could experience them one more time.

I'm also trying to romanticize the process of becoming. I don't think I give myself enough credit for that part. I'm not exactly where I want to be yet. There are goals I'm still working toward, habits I'm trying to build, and things about myself that I'm still learning to understand. There are days when I feel like I'm making progress and days when I feel like I haven't accomplished anything at all. But I've become so focused on the person I want to be that sometimes I forget to appreciate the person I'm becoming. Every time I choose discipline when I don't feel motivated, I'm becoming someone I can trust. Every time I sit down and write even when I don't feel particularly inspired, I'm becoming a better writer. Every time I set a boundary instead of ignoring my own feelings to make someone else comfortable, I'm learning to respect myself. Every time I try something that scares me, I'm proving that I can survive being uncomfortable. These things might not look impressive from the outside, but they matter to me. I think growth is often much quieter than we expect it to be.

Maybe that's what romanticizing my life has really taught me. It isn't about pretending everything is perfect. I still have bad days. I still compare myself to other people. I still scroll through social media sometimes and wonder why someone else's life seems so much more exciting than mine. I still have unfinished goals sitting in notebooks. There are still parts of my life I wish looked different, and there are still things I hope will happen for me someday. But I'm learning that I can want more for myself without hating where I am right now. Those two things can exist at the same time. I can dream about the future and still enjoy today. I want a bigger career and still appreciate the work I'm doing now. I can want a relationship and still enjoy being single. I want to travel the world and still find beauty in the places I already know. I can have unfinished goals and still be proud of how far I've come.

I think I've spent enough time believing that I have to wait for my life to become more exciting before I can fully enjoy it. There will always be another goal, another milestone, another place I want to visit, another version of myself I want to become. If I'm not careful, I could spend my entire life looking forward to the next thing and miss the things happening right in front of me. So right now, I'm trying to notice things. I'm noticing the songs I love, the books I'm reading, the stories I'm writing, the people who make me laugh, the quiet moments, the little routines that make my days feel familiar, the outfits that make me feel good, the places I'm discovering, the goals I'm slowly working toward, and the person I'm becoming.

Because maybe one day I'll look back at this version of my life and realize I was living through a season I once wished I could get to. Maybe I'll miss the simplicity of these ordinary days. Maybe I'll wish I could sit in this exact room again, open this same notebook, hear these same songs, and be this exact version of myself one more time.

And I don't want to spend this season wishing it away.

I want to be here for it.

Even the ordinary parts.

Especially those.