In today’s day and age, it feels like everything is designed to keep us miserable. From unreasonable working hours engulfing the better part of our days, to social media algorithms feeding us anything that’ll keep our attention, to an era of stale modern architecture creating an inhospitable atmosphere everywhere we go, there’s no escaping it unless we intentionally create pockets of calm in our daily lives.
Now, I don’t claim to have the key to nirvana, but I truly believe even the most minuscule adjustments have added up to change my life for the [slightly] better.
Making My Space Mine
At the most fundamental level, my home is my sanctuary. It is the place that shapes my peace. When’s the last time you saw a sanctuary devoid of enrichment for the life it holds? Ever seen a bird’s nest without greenery to perch upon?
Thought so.
My room is where I come to recharge, and what better way to steady my mind than to be enveloped in a space that visually reminds me who I am?
(Yes, that is the Declaration of Independence that I was sent by the U.S. Gov’t in the mail; couldn’t tell you why, so don’t ask.)
When I say personalize your space, I don’t mean you need HGTV-level renovations. Yes, investing in quality decor can go a long way, but if that’s out of reach, it’s important to utilize what you can get your hands on in a way that serves you. I’m an avid thrifter, and let me tell you, a few sentimental objects strewn about really took my room from beige purgatory to a personal art gallery. Things as simple as a couple of warmly lit lamps, scraps of fabric, and eye-catching adverts ripped from a single magazine transformed my space into a retreat that feels truly mine.
As a college student navigating so many unknowns, having a space that grounds me is crucial. In the midst of classes, deadlines, and self-doubt, this room is where I reconnect with who I am and who I’m becoming with every new addition.
Carving Out Purposeful Spaces
So I have a beautifully curated room, now what? You divide and conquer, that’s what.
You may have never noticed how much your physical environment determines what you do. The library helps you study. The office helps you work. The couch helps you…couch. As is with many other students’ living accommodations, I am pretty much relegated to a single room. An “all-room,” if you will; a room where I may find myself eating, sleeping, working, and leisureing. When you don’t dedicate an area to a specific goal, you risk degrading the “sanctity” of your space.
I like to think of them as the four essential stations within my home. First is the fueling station, which is the kitchen or a dedicated eating area. By reserving this space just for meals, I avoid the trap of eating in bed or on the couch, which keeps those spaces sacred. Next is the recharging station, my bed. It’s vital that I only use it for sleep, so if I can’t fall asleep within 15 minutes, I get up and try again later so my bed remains a space I’m mentally prepared to knock out in. Then, there’s the entertainment station, which is often in my living room. This is where I allow myself to unwind with social media, TV, or movies. But, I set a loose time limit here because lingering too long causes the space to lose its appeal. Finally, there’s the creation station, my desk. This is where I sit down to study or explore my hobbies. If creativity doesn’t spark within 15 minutes, just like with sleep, I step away and return later. By defining these purposeful stations, I give each area its own energy, which helps me stay balanced, focused, and grounded when I enter it.
It will be hard at first, but the more I respect the boundaries, the more entering that boundary helps me accomplish what I intend to do there.
One Thing That’s Just Yours
Now, in my beautifully curated room, within my dedicated creative area, I can idle myself with a hobby that keeps my hands busy and my mind quiet.
If carving out physical space brings order to my environment, carving out time for a hobby brings order to my inner world. Hobbies are essential to my intrapersonal life because they give me a relationship with myself that isn’t rooted in productivity, grades, or external validation. They allow me to exist without performing.
For me, that hobby is crocheting.
There is something almost meditative about the repetition of crochet stitches. Research by neurological development nurse Betty Houtman has shown that repetitive, rhythmic crafts like crocheting can lower stress levels, reduce anxiety symptoms, and promote mindfulness. The steady motion of the hands helps regulate the nervous system, much like deep breathing does. Your mind has something gentle to focus on, and suddenly the noise quiets.
But beyond the science, there is the simple, human satisfaction of making something tangible. In a world where so much of our work lives on screens and disappears into the digital void, crocheting gives me proof of my effort.
I can hold it. I can wear it. I can drape it over a chair and think, I made that.
And perhaps the most underrated joy is gifting something handmade. To give someone a scarf, a hat, or a replica of the Harry Styles cardigan for a beloved, mildly deranged, superfan carries a weight that store-bought things simply can’t. It says, I thought of you long enough to make this. That kind of intentionality deepens connection, both with others and within myself.
A hobby doesn’t have to be crochet. It could be painting, baking, journaling, or learning guitar. What matters is that it is yours. Something you return to not because you have to, but because you want to. Something that makes your life, if only slightly, better.
Choosing Slightly Better
None of these shifts are revolutionary. They won’t dismantle the countless sources of my discontent. But they don’t have to.
Because while I may not control the architecture of the world around me, I can control the architecture of my days. And by choosing to make small, intentional adjustments, I’ve found that slightly better is more powerful than it sounds.
In a world that profits from our distraction and dissatisfaction, choosing to build pockets of joy is its own quiet rebellion, and for now, slightly better is more than enough.