“It’s very singular how hard it is to manage your mind,” said Demi, clasping his hands round his knees, and looking up at the sky as if for information upon his favorite topic.”
Demi Brooke, Little Men
–Louisa May Alcott-
Once upon a time, a Depression-era grandmother passed down to her millennial granddaughter a fierce decree: all cups must be stored upside down, lest dust or insects claim them. It became one of those odd core memories—etched as deeply into me as tying my shoes or brushing my teeth.
But here’s the thing: it’s 2025. My cabinets are lined with cheery shelf paper, and the cups are in rotation so often they’d never have a chance to collect dust, let alone a stray bug. Realistically, there’s nothing to worry about. And yet, breaking this unnecessary “rule” makes me itchy—like I’m doing something wrong. And heaven help the poor soul who dares put them away the wrong (read: my) way.
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See, I’ve got these rules—tiny, inherited commandments about how my home should look and function. Cups must be stored upside down in the cabinet (thank you, Grandma). Towels folded a very particular way (hi, Mom). Laundry only on Sunday mornings. Sugar belongs in the sugar bowl, never in the bag on the counter. Dishes rinsed twice before the dishwasher.
These rules aren’t written anywhere, but they live in my head like little landlords, shouting orders and threatening eviction if I don’t obey.
The problem is, when life is already heavy—when depression is pressing down, when trauma memories are clawing their way out of their boxes-within-boxes (I’m talking Esma from The Emperor’s New Groove style, when she’s plotting to turn Kuzko into a flea, then put him in a box, then put him in another box, and mail that box to herself just to smash it with a hammer)—well, following all those rules becomes exhausting.
And worse, I realized how much power I hand over when I fight to constantly control these things. A visitor could ruin my peace just by folding a towel wrong.
Control is a Sneaky Thief
Here’s the thing about trying to control everything: it doesn’t actually protect you. It drains you. The energy I spent rearranging cups and folding towels was no different than the energy I spent trying to shove flashbacks back into their boxes. Both left me exhausted, brittle, and on edge.
And when you’re already running on empty, those self-imposed rules become little thieves. They don’t make life better; they make existing harder.
The Elephant
My daddy used to say, “It’s an awful big elephant, you can’t eat it all in one bite.” And he was right. If I try to dismantle every rule at once, there’s a fair chance I’ll collapse under the weight of it.
So I’m starting small and cutting things down to bite size pieces.
- I left the sugar in the bag on the counter. Guess what? It still sweetens my tea.
- I walked out the door leaving a mess on the couch without guilt gnawing at me.
- I did laundry on a Wednesday night. And the universe didn’t implode.
Each small rebellion becomes a crack in the wall of perfectionism. A reminder that the cups don’t matter. The towels don’t matter. What matters is that I’m not handing my peace over to rules that don’t serve me anymore.
The Sugar Bowl Revolution
Here’s the quiet magic: when I loosen my grip on the little things, I find I have more energy for the bigger ones. If I can live with sugar in the bag, maybe I can also live with an intrusive memory showing up uninvited.
I don’t have to like it. I don’t have to welcome it. But I don’t have to waste all my energy fighting it, either.
The sugar still sweetens the tea.
The towel still dries my hands.
The laundry still gets clean.
The job gets done, even if the ritual changes.
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A Gentle Challenge
What little landlord lives rent-free in your mind? The one insisting that socks must be paired, that the bed must be made a certain way, that dishes must never sit in the sink?
What would happen if you broke that rule—just once?
It doesn’t have to be dramatic. Maybe you leave the blanket tossed over the couch. Maybe you skip vacuuming the rug today. Maybe, just maybe, you let the sugar stay in the bag.
From The Stillroom:
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- Stress-Relief Herbal Tea Blend with Calming Chamomile, Lavender
Before I head off, a small reminder: every tiny act of letting go is a tiny act of reclaiming your peace—and that’s worth celebrating.
xo, Kit 🌼
