The 10 Small Things Keeping Me Sane Right Now
Life has a funny way of getting overwhelming in ways that don’t always make sense. Some days I feel like a functional adult with a solid grip on everything, and other days I’m one minor inconvenience away from dramatically whispering, “I can’t do this,” to absolutely no one. When the world feels heavy or chaotic—or just unreasonably loud—I’ve learned to rely on small comforts. Not life-changing habits. Not five-step morning routines. Not perfectly curated wellness rituals. Just tiny, everyday things that keep me from falling apart or spontaneously moving into the woods.
These are the ten small things keeping me sane right now, and I mean really sane—not aspirational, Pinterest-board sane. Tangible, real-world, “this is what’s stopping me from unraveling today” sane. If you’re also holding on by a thread wrapped in caffeine and hope, maybe some of these will resonate with you too.
1. The First Sip of Coffee in the Morning
I know coffee is a cliché, but listen—there is something almost spiritual about that first sip. Before responsibilities start screaming my name, before the day decides what mood it’s in, before my brain fully boots up, that sip is the soft moment that reminds me I’m still human. It’s the inhale-exhale I actually enjoy. The kind of peace I can drink. I’m convinced that first sip has healing properties, or at least magical delusional powers that trick me into believing I can handle whatever chaos unfolds next.
It’s not even the caffeine—although that doesn’t hurt. It’s the ritual. The warmth. The quiet. The promise of a fresh start, even if the start only lasts seven minutes before reality kicks down the door.
2. My Favorite Blanket That I Treat Like a Security Deposit
Some people outgrow childhood comfort items. I did not. I have a blanket that might as well be my emotional support diploma. It is soft, slightly worn, and somehow always the perfect temperature. This blanket has seen me through emotional breakdowns, mental spirals, binge-watching marathons, stress naps, real naps, fake naps, and dramatic flops onto the couch.
I wrap myself in it like it’s a force field against the world—because honestly, sometimes it is. When my brain gets loud, when my anxiety decides to do backflips, when the day feels too big, that blanket brings me back to earth the way meditation apps claim they will but rarely do.
3. Putting My Phone on Do Not Disturb Without Guilt
This one took years of guilt, overthinking, and apologizing for “late” responses (even though they weren’t late). But now? I’m learning to turn off the noise. Do Not Disturb is not disrespectful—it’s survival. It’s choosing to protect my peace for a moment instead of being available 24/7 like an unpaid customer support agent.
Every time my phone stops buzzing, I feel something in my soul unclench. The world keeps spinning, the messages can wait, and I get to breathe without notifications yanking at my nervous system like energetic toddlers demanding snacks.
4. Saying “No” More Often (Even If I Whisper It)
As a recovering people-pleaser, saying no still feels like performing surgery on my conscience. But wow, has it helped me stay sane. Saying no to obligations I can’t handle, conversations I’m not ready for, events I don’t have the energy to attend, and drama I definitely didn’t invite is slowly changing my life.
Sometimes the “no” is firm. Sometimes it’s soft. Sometimes it’s silent, meaning I simply don’t force myself into things I don’t want to do. It doesn’t matter how it sounds. What matters is that protecting my mental space has become a priority—and that’s a version of me I’m proud of.
5. Cleaning One Small Thing Instead of Everything
I’m not in my “clean everything until the world feels okay” era anymore. That method always leads to me scrubbing something aggressively while muttering to myself. Now, when my environment starts affecting my mood, I pick one thing. One surface. One corner. One dish.
That tiny accomplishment gives my brain a win. It sparks a little momentum without overwhelming me. Sometimes it even fools me into cleaning more—but I don’t force it. Small steps only. Sanity is preserved one countertop at a time.
6. Letting Myself Enjoy Silly Little Joys
I used to feel childish for getting excited about small, silly things—cute mugs, funny videos, cozy socks, choosing the right pen, the smell of a candle, finding the perfect meme for my mood. Now I embrace these micro-joys like they’re vitamins.
Life is serious enough. The world is heavy enough. My brain is dramatic enough. I need the tiny joys—the things that spark a smile for no logical reason. They don’t fix everything, but they soften the edges. And some days, that’s all I need.
7. Long Drives With No Destination and Questionable Playlists
There’s something wildly therapeutic about getting in the car, blasting music that fits the mood (or absolutely does not), and driving with no goal except to exist somewhere other than inside my own head.
Sometimes the playlist is sad, sometimes it’s nostalgic, sometimes it’s chaotic, and sometimes it’s just three songs on repeat because my brain wants comfort loops. I don’t question it anymore. The car is my mobile sanctuary, where I can cry, laugh, think, or simply zone out while pretending I’m in a movie montage.
8. Not Forcing Myself to “Be Productive” Every Single Day
I used to treat productivity like a moral value. If I wasn’t accomplishing things, I convinced myself I was failing. Now, I understand that rest is productive. Pausing is productive. Doing nothing is sometimes necessary.
Not every day has to be meaningful. Not every hour has to be optimized. Not every moment needs a purpose. Allowing myself to simply exist has saved my sanity more times than I can count. Some days I’m a functioning adult. Other days I’m a cozy creature who needs to recharge. Both are valid versions of me.
9. A Good Cry When I Need One
Crying used to feel like defeat. Now it feels like maintenance. There’s something cathartic about letting the emotions evacuate instead of letting them pile up and spill out in some unrelated meltdown later.
Sometimes I cry because I’m sad. Sometimes because I’m tired. Sometimes because I watched a sweet video or thought too deeply about something that shouldn’t matter. But every time, I feel lighter. Not fixed, just less heavy. And that’s enough.
10. The People Who Put Up With Me
I cannot explain how much sanity is saved by having people—friends, loved ones, found family—who accept me in all my various forms. The exhausted form. The anxious form. The confused form. The “I’m fine” but absolutely not fine form. The silly, chaotic form. The version of me that makes no sense. The version of me that needs too much space or too much reassurance. The version that overshares or goes quiet without warning.
The people who don’t get tired of me. The ones who check in. The ones who understand even when they don’t fully understand. The ones who hold space for me even when I’m overwhelmed by my own emotions. They are the quiet anchors keeping me steady.
The older I get, the more I treasure the people who stay. The ones who see me—really see me—and remain anyway. Those are the relationships that keep me grounded. And honestly? They’re the biggest sanity-savers of all.
Finding Peace in the Smallest Places
I used to think staying sane required major life changes. A new routine. A new mindset. A new plan. But I’ve realized that sanity often comes from the tiniest choices and the smallest comforts—the things we overlook because they seem too simple to make a difference.
But they do make a difference. They add up. They become a soft landing in the middle of the daily storm. They remind us that we’re not powerless. That we can care for ourselves in little ways. That surviving doesn’t always look pretty—it often looks like cozy blankets, quiet moments, car rides, small wins, and people who love us unconditionally.
These ten things may seem small, but right now, they’re keeping me steady. And if you have your own list—whether it’s two things or twenty—hold onto it. Celebrate it. Lean into it. Because staying sane isn’t about perfection. It’s about finding comfort wherever you can.
