What I’m Practicing in 2026 Instead of Hustling

I’m not replacing hustle with another aesthetic version of productivity. I’m not optimizing my rest or monetizing my healing. What I’m doing in 2026 is practicing—slowly, imperfectly—ways of living that don’t require me to be in constant pursuit mode.

Here’s what that looks like right now.

I’m practicing pace.
Letting things take the time they take. Leaving margin. Choosing “not yet” more often than “push through.”

I’m practicing embodied yeses and noes.
Listening to my body before my calendar. Noticing where tension appears when I agree to something—and honoring that information.

I’m practicing enoughness.
Stopping at “good and sufficient” instead of polishing myself into exhaustion. Letting “done” be a form of care.

I’m practicing work that doesn’t hurt me.
Not pain-free, not perfect—but work that doesn’t demand constant self-betrayal as the price of admission.

I’m practicing creativity as nourishment.
Writing, journaling, making, and mending without asking whether it’s useful, marketable, or impressive.

I’m practicing ritual.
Small, repeatable acts that anchor me: lighting a candle before work, walking without tracking it, closing the day with a sentence or two of truth.

I’m practicing honesty.
Especially when the answer is “I don’t know yet.” Especially when the middle is messy. None of this is aesthetic. None of it is optimized. All of it is real.

These practices aren’t meant to make me more efficient. They’re meant to make me more present—and more able to recognize when it’s time to stop running.

This is how I’m preparing to hand in my pass to the rat race at the end of 2026:
not by escaping, but by building something livable in its place.