For most of my life, “ordinary” was an insult.
Ordinary meant predictable. Repetitive. The soundtrack of laundry and grocery lists. I wanted a life of passion. I wanted a life of purpose- the kind of life that looked like a montage with a Beyoncé song playing over it.
Then real life happened.
Bills. Group chats that never die. A chronic case of exhaustion that no latte could cure. Somewhere between surviving and “thriving,” I realized maybe ordinary wasn’t the problem. Maybe I was.
So this year, I decided to romanticize my regular life — not in a “buy yourself flowers and pretend you’re in Mama Mia” kind of way, but in a what if this is already good kind of way.
The Slow-Mo Version of My Life
You know those movie scenes where someone opens their curtains and sunlight hits their face just right? I started trying to see my mornings like that. Spoiler: the light doesn’t always cooperate.
Still, I make my cafe con leche like it’s a ritual. I talk to my plants like they’re coworkers. I let myself take the long route to the mailbox because the air feels nice. None of it is fancy. But every time I notice it, the world feels slightly less like something I’m trying to escape from.
Romanticizing ordinary days isn’t pretending life is perfect. It’s giving the small things a starring role. The clean sheets, the quiet breakfasts, the candle you light after you clean the house, the laugh you almost missed because you were thinking about work.
Making Mundane Moments Mean Something
Let’s be real. Social media has molded us to believe life’s meaning came from milestones. Promotions. Birthdays. The “I finally did it” moments. But the truth is, most of life happens in between. In traffic, in checkout lines, in that moment before you open another email you already know the answer to.
Hence why I now look for micro-joys throughout my day.
I light candles even if no one’s coming over. I put on perfume to fold laundry. I wear lipstick to work from home. It’s not about trying to make every day glamorous. It’s about showing up like my life already deserves my attention.
Romanticizing ordinary days means saying, “This is my life, not my waiting room.”
What I’ve Learned
- Joy doesn’t have to announce itself. Sometimes it’s quiet. It hides in your morning coffee or a text from a friend who gets you.
- You can love your life and still want more. Gratitude and ambition can co-exist. Full stop.
- Romance is not just for relationships. It’s how you treat your own time, your own space, and your own life.
- Peace is the new luxury. No one’s posting about it because they’re too busy enjoying it.
The Takeaway
I used to wait for big things to happen before I felt alive. Now I’m learning that being alive is the big thing.
Romanticizing ordinary days doesn’t mean pretending your problems disappeared. It means remembering that even in the middle of stress, there’s a version of you still capable of joy.
This year, I’m not chasing a highlight reel. I’m chasing presence. Because when you start to see your own life as something worth watching, it changes how you show up for it.
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