t is that time of the year again! That well-deserved break you have been waiting for, maybe for weeks, maybe for months, is finally within reach. You tell yourself you will switch off properly this time.  But here is what often happens instead…

Let’s be honest. If you are reading another article about time management, it’s probably not because you have never heard of a to-do list. It’s because you’re doing everything "right", the scheduling, the prioritizing, the time-blocking, and somehow you still end the day wondering where the time went.

There’s a reason your tasks expand, inflate, and spill past the point where they should’ve ended. It’s not because you’re lazy or bad at planning. It’s because your brain doesn’t experience time the way you think it does.

We all have things that set us off. Sometimes it’s feedback that feels too sharp. Or a colleague talking over us in a meeting. Or a last-minute change that throws our whole day. We don’t always react on the outside, but something flares internally. Irritation, defensiveness, discomfort, or sometimes a need to shut down completely.

Most of us assume we know when we are stressed. But the truth is, many of us are walking around with low-level, chronic stress we’ve completely normalized. It doesn’t always feel like panic. According to the American Psychological Association, more than 75% of adults report stress symptoms they didn’t initially recognize as stress — things like forgetfulness, indecision, poor sleep, or reduced motivation. In other words, stress often shows up in our bodies and brains before it shows up in our awareness.

Our brain does not reward intention. It rewards completion. Every time we take a step toward something meaningful, our brain releases dopamine. This is a chemical signal of progress. It encourages us to keep going. The feedback loop is simple. Action leads to reinforcement. Reinforcement builds momentum. Momentum builds confidence. And confidence makes future action easier.

Resilience is often described as a personal strength. A mindset. You’re either resilient or you’re not. And if you’re not, you’re expected to magically become it. Just toughen up. Push through. Cope better. But that’s not how it works.

If your thoughts were employees, which ones are ready for a bigger role and which might benefit from some additional development? If your habits were departments, are they aligned with your goals or just doing what they’ve always done? If your energy were your operating budget, are you spending it with intention or constantly overdrawn just to keep up?

We become what we do. Your brain learns through repetition. Every time you repeat a behaviour, you strengthen the neural pathway behind it. That’s neuroplasticity.  Progress releases dopamine. You don’t need to reach a big goal, your brain rewards small, consistent wins.

There’s a particular kind of resistance that shows up when we’re trying to make something good. When we care. When we push the boundaries. When we try to solve new problems or express something that doesn’t have a template yet. It isn’t laziness or procrastination. It’s the sign of real effort. And it’s deeply uncomfortable, because the effort is there, but the result hasn’t fully manifested yet.

For years, I believed that my work should be my passion. I thought that if I could just figure out what I was wildly passionate about, everything else would fall into place. I also believed, quite strongly, that I needed to feel deeply connected to the products I was working on.

You are not meant to stay the same. Not for the version of you who once needed this life. Not for the people who still expect you to be that person. Not for the comfort of familiarity. You are allowed to want something different now. You are allowed to walk away from things that no longer fit

I had a client interaction recently that left a bitter taste in my mouth.

We talk all day—at work, over WhatsApp, in our heads—and most of us rarely stop to consider how deeply our words shape the way we experience the world. But science keeps showing what many of us sense intuitively: words are not just descriptions of our reality. They create our reality. They shape our mood, impact our relationships, and influence our ability to cope with stress, connect with others, and build resilience.

Until about two weeks ago, I was living out of a suitcase—and had been for more than six months. It started when we sold our property in London and packed up everything we owned into a storage unit. My entire life—objects, furniture, keepsakes, kitchen tools, all the little “just in case” things—boiled down to a few boxes. And then, even smaller, into a suitcase I’d carry with me. A few outfits, my laptop, essential toiletries, and the Aeropress I now consider a non-negotiable.

It happens without thinking. The alarm goes off. You are still under the covers, your body not quite ready to move, still half asleep. Outside, a car drives past. A few birds chirp near the window. But the first thing you do? You reach for your phone.

There’s a lot of talk about what to do. What to add. What to build. What to start. Most goal-setting conversations are centered around doing more. But what about the things we stop doing? What about the daily decisions, habits, and patterns that quietly drain our time, our clarity, and our presence—and go completely unchecked? Here’s a short list of things I’ve consciously stopped doing—not as a productivity tactic, but as an act of mental protection.

Ever notice how your best ideas seem to arrive when you’re not trying to think at all? Not when you're staring at the screen, trying to force focus. Not when you’ve carved out the perfect productivity block. But in the shower. On a walk. While folding laundry. That’s not coincidence.

You didn’t climb a mountain. You didn’t run a marathon. You just lived a normal day. A normal day that probably included poor sleep, unread emails, one too many decisions, a blurry meeting, a sugar crash, someone’s slightly passive-aggressive tone, and the subtle shame of knowing your to-do list is still quietly laughing at you from across the room.

There are moments that feel like being paused mid-scene. Something’s ended—or is about to—but the next frame hasn’t loaded yet. You’re not sure what to say, what to fix, or which way to turn.