The Dagmar Perspective

Originally posted on March 23, 2025

There are some people in this world who naturally wake up at 6:00 AM, drink lemon water, journal, go on a jog, and sit peacefully in a sunbeam while reading the daily news. I am not one of those people.

I am the kind of person who buys a flower lego set and lets it sit half built for six months. Who signs up for a language class with full enthusiasm, and ends up completing the homework the night before class because I didn’t plan my week ahead. Who makes a home cooked meal the night before, then forgets in the fridge and ends up ordering a sandwich for lunch. In short: I am a work in progress.

Over the past five months, I’ve been on a quest to rebuild my life, not just emotionally, but structurally. While being in a relationship, I found that I had a weekly rhythm and routine, and life would run on autopilot; in any given week, I generally knew what I was doing on each day. Once I re-entered the single life five months ago, I found that I tended to float freely without much structure to my day-to-day life. At first, I enjoyed having no obligations to my personal time. But here’s the thing people don’t tell you: freedom without structure is a trap disguised as self-care.

When you have all the time in the world but no plan, your brain will fill the space with overthinking, self-comparison, or rewatching every episode of Parks and Rec (yes, I actually did that).

I kept telling myself, “I just need to find the right hobby.” But the truth is, I wasn’t struggling to pick a hobby; I was struggling to sit with myself. To commit to something even if I wasn’t amazing at it, even if it didn’t become my “thing,” even if no one ever saw the end result.

And so began my struggle for structure (not perfection, not productivity for productivity’s sake) just something stable. Something mine.

I finally got fed up with floating and made a spreadsheet. I created a two-week rotating schedule that accounted for long work days, regular therapy, language class, exercise goals, and, most importantly, hobby time. Time to try, time to mess up, and time to explore what sparks my interests (or at least held my interest for a few hours).

Some days, I actually followed the plan. Other days, I scrolled on my phone until 1 am… (or as some call it: doom-scrolling).

But the intention is there. The tiles of a routine are being laid; slowly, imperfectly, but they’re there.

And in those moments when I do follow the routine, when I cook a real dinner, go on a bike ride while it’s still sunny, finish build a lego flower, I feel a moment of self accomplishment. Not because I was “productive,” but because I kept a promise to myself. And that, I’m learning, is where healing actually lives.

So if you’re also out here trying to reset your life, trying to figure out what hobbies are “worth your time,” or wondering why getting to the gym is so difficult even though it is only 5 minutes from your house, let me offer this: Start small. Like embarrassingly small. Ten-minute walk, one page of a book, five lego pieces. Eventually, over time, the ten-minute walks turn into twenty, then sixty. As stated in an article from the National Health Institute (2018), “Change is a process. What’s most important is to keep moving forward.”

I have found it is important to remember that routines aren’t punishment; If you start to dread a routine you have created, it’s not sustainable. Accept that not every day has to go as planned and all that matters is that you continue to try your best.

Let go of the “ideal you.” She’s not real. Build a routine for the current you; the one who’s interested in baking bread and tired of you trying to make her like yoga.

Celebrate consistency over perfection. If you return to something – anything – even after a lapse, that’s worth honoring.

Mostly, give yourself permission to be a beginner. To try hobbies and realize they’re not for you. To cook one night and DoorDash the next. To plan your week out to the minute, and then completely ignore it. You’re not failing; you’re experimenting. And honestly? That counts as a hobby too.

Dagmar