Journal

Life as an Experiment: How I Reclaimed My Brain, Body, and Joy With Two Simple Daily Habits

The Year I Simplified Everything

Each January, I choose something to work on — not as a goal, but as a kind of companion. This year’s was to simplify. It came to me in a tangle of brain fog, unread books, forgotten names, and a studio that seemed to sigh under the weight of cluttered drawers.

Focus was elusive. My memory frayed. Tasks started but not finished littered my day like breadcrumbs with no trail. Part of me whispered: something is wrong. Another part said: maybe this is just the shape of now.

And then — a podcast, of all things. Neuroscientist Wendy Suzuki, with her calm, bright voice, explaining that our fog isn’t always hormonal or neurological. Sometimes, it’s just a lack of movement. A brain too full, and a body too still.

Her prescription? Not boot camps. Not transformation. Just 45 minutes of brisk walking a day.

That felt possible. Even … inviting.

So I began.

Rings and Realignment

I’d been given an Apple Watch last Christmas as a filming aid, but it turned out to be something else entirely — a quiet companion in my experiment.

There are three rings to close each day:

• Stand once an hour
• Move briskly for 30 minutes
• Burn active calories through any gentle motion

What surprised me wasn’t just that I liked seeing them fill. It was how deeply satisfying it became to design my day around movement, not outcomes.

Some days it’s a slow walk through the woods. Others, dancing in the kitchen while the coffee brews. Sometimes, it’s just pottering — gardening, folding laundry, taking orders to the post office.

And if I’m having one of those days when I’m really low energy? I adjust. I reduce the goals. I don’t abandon them.

This isn’t discipline. It’s devotion.

And the changes? Well, they crept in quietly.

• My walking pace quickened
• My blood pressure settled
• My head cleared
• I began finishing things again

After eight weeks, I had closed the rings every day. Not once did I crash, ending up exhausted in bed. 

The Scroll-Free Mind

In parallel, I was growing uneasy with my phone. Not its calls or messages — those still mattered — but the mindless, endless scrolling.

Instagram. Pinterest. eBay. Tiny dopamine crumbs that never added up to nourishment. 

So I removed them all.

I didn’t announce it. I didn’t substitute. I just… stopped.

The first few days were strange. I kept picking up and putting down my phone, my thumb searching for apps that weren’t there. My mind fidgeted. But then:

• I began remembering passwords again
• My thoughts sharpened
• I read books instead of captions
• I gained so much time

I miss the casual conversations — the kind that bloomed in comment threads and story replies. Those gentle acquaintanceships that sit between friendship and anonymity.

But what I’ve regained is depth.

A single thread of attention. A beginning, a middle, an end.

There’s a temptation to think of all this as lifestyle change or biohacking — but I think that language flattens it, for me these aren’t systems. They’re small ceremonies of returning to life as it should be lived.

I’m learning that I don’t need to conquer my condition, or overcome my brain. I just need to meet them where they are — with rhythm, kindness, and movement.

If You Want to Try

I won’t tell you what to do — but if your mind is fuzzy, your memory lapsing, if you find your thoughts scattered and fragmented, here’s what I did:

• Removed all scrolling apps from my phone for 3 weeks
• Moved gently and consistently each day — often in pieces, always with intention

Do both, together, for 21 days. See what shifts. See what softens.

It’s an experiment.

This Is What I Believe

That we are meant to live life to our own rhythm.

That sometimes, the smallest change can make massive shifts.

And that joy — real, embodied joy — returns not in lightning bolts, but in rings quietly closed. In apps deleted. In noticing that you remembered the thing you used to always forget.

So here’s to simple things. To walking with your whole body. To showing up for your own life, just as it is.

And if you’d like to join me for the next round of Bloom — six months of support for exactly this kind of gentle experiment — you can sign up here.

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