Feeling Good | sashashantel.com
Can we talk about the phrase “protect your peace” for a second?
Because I feel like it’s been plastered across every wellness account on the internet to the point where it’s lost all meaning. It’s become one of those things we say and screenshot, and save, and nod along to without actually doing anything about it.
I’ve been guilty of it too. For a long time, I was collecting self-care advice like a hobby, bookmarking threads and saving posts and telling myself I was working on my mental health when really I was just… consuming content about working on my mental health.
The shift happened when I stopped looking for the big dramatic changes and started paying attention to the tiny things that were quietly making my days better or worse. And honestly? It’s the small stuff that’s moved the needle more than anything.
So here are 10 genuinely small things I do to protect my peace. Nothing that requires a retreat, a life overhaul, or a 5am alarm. Just things that actually work for me, at least.
1. I stopped explaining myself when I say no
This one sounds simple. It is not simple.
For most of my life I said yes to things I didn’t want to do, and when I did manage to say no, I’d wrap it in so much explanation and apologising that the other person didn’t even register it as a no. “I can’t make it, I’m really sorry, I’ve got this thing but maybe another time, let me know if you need anything”
Now I’m practising the short no. “I can’t make it, but have a great time.” Full stop. No essay. The discomfort of leaving it there gets easier every time. And nobody has actually died.
2. My phone goes face down at dinner, every dinner
Including when I’m eating alone. Especially when I’m eating alone.
It started as a rule for when I had company, but I’ve extended it to solo meals too because I noticed I was scrolling through lunch and arriving at the end of it with no memory of what I’d eaten or how it tasted. Food is one of the things I genuinely love, and I was spending it half-present. Not anymore.
3. I have a “transition ritual” between work and the rest of my life
When you work from home or for yourself, there’s no commute, no clocking out, no physical leaving of the office. Work just… seeps into everything if you let it.
My transition ritual is embarrassingly small: I make a cup of tea, change out of whatever I’ve been working in, and take five minutes to write down anything I didn’t finish so my brain can let it go. That’s it. But that cup of tea signals to my nervous system that we’re done now. It works in a way that just closing my laptop never did.
4. I muted almost everyone on social media (and kept following them)
Not unfollowed. Muted.
This was a revelation. There were people whose content I found draining not because they’d done anything wrong, but because seeing certain things at certain times just wasn’t good for me. Unfollowing felt aggressive and final. Muting felt kind to everyone, including me. My feed became something I actually wanted to open. Highly recommend.
5. I give myself a “buffer” before any big appointment or plan
I used to schedule things right up against each other and then wonder why I felt anxious all the time. Now I build in buffer time before anything that matters — a work call, seeing a friend, going somewhere new. Even just 20 minutes of nothing.
It sounds indulgent. But arriving anywhere without the cortisol spike of rushing is a different experience entirely. I’m more present. I enjoy things more. It’s changed how I feel about my diary.
6. I stopped watching or reading the news right before bed
I know. I know. You’ve heard this one.
But I really mean it, I had a period where I was genuinely struggling to sleep, and the one change that made the most noticeable difference was moving news consumption to the morning and keeping my evenings news-free. Not ignorance. Just timing. The world’s problems are still there in the morning. They don’t need me to absorb them at 10:47pm.
7. I do a Sunday reset, but a realistic one
The internet version of a Sunday reset involves deep cleaning, meal prepping five days of food, skincare routines, journaling, a walk, and somehow also reading a book. Mine involves looking at my week, doing one load of laundry, and making something I actually want to eat for Sunday dinner.
That’s it. The goal isn’t a perfect week, it’s just arriving at Monday feeling like I’ve had a weekend rather than a two-day anxiety spiral about the week ahead.
8. I have a “not my circus” mantra for other people‘s drama
I care deeply about the people in my life. That doesn’t mean I need to carry their emergencies as my own.
When I feel myself being pulled into situations that aren’t mine to fix, I genuinely just think the words: not my circus. It sounds flippant but it creates just enough distance for me to ask the actually helpful question: what does this person need from me right now, and is that something I can give without depleting myself?
Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes it’s no. Both are valid.
9. I spend the first 10 minutes of my morning without picking up my phone
Not an hour. Not a whole morning routine. Ten minutes.
Long enough to be awake before the world gets to me. Long enough to remember what I was thinking about before I went to sleep. Long enough for my brain to have one quiet moment before the notifications start. I drink water, look out the window, and just exist for a minute. It’s become the part of my day I’m most protective of.
10. I treat rest as a plan, not a default
This is the one that took me the longest to get right.
I used to rest by accident, collapsing on the sofa after running myself into the ground, scrolling as a way to decompress rather than actually decompress. Proper rest, I’ve learned, needs to be intentional. So now I plan it. A bath on Wednesday. A slow Sunday morning. An afternoon where I read an actual book.
When rest is a plan, it happens. When it’s just whatever’s left over at the end of the day, there’s never anything left over.
None of these are revolutionary. That’s sort of the point.
The most meaningful changes to my mental health haven’t come from grand overhauls, they’ve come from small, boring, consistent decisions about how I spend my time and energy. Repeated enough times that they became the way I live rather than things I’m trying.
If even one of these feels useful to you, that’s enough. Start there.
And if you’re in a season where protecting your peace feels like a luxury you can’t afford I’ve been there too. Sometimes it looks less like a list and more like just getting through the day. That counts as well.
Want more like this? Sign up for my weekly newsletter it lands in your inbox every fortnight, and it’s basically this: honest, warm, and actually useful.
