I Didn’t Need More Time. I Needed Different Days.

My days used to look like this.

Wake up. Grab my phone. Make coffee. Tend to the dogs. Open my laptop. Check email. Respond to whatever came in overnight. Grab my phone again. Check social media. Reply to comments and DMs. Scroll. Keep scrolling.

And then get mad at myself for wasting so much time doing nothing.

By the time I actually “started” my day, I was already behind. Already reactive. Already working on other people’s priorities instead of my own.

Email stayed open all day. Notifications stayed on. Calls got answered as they came in. If someone needed something, I did it right away. Another task added to the list. Another interruption justified because “it’ll just take a minute.”

Whenever I took a break, my phone came with me. I couldn’t miss anything. What if there was an opportunity? A problem to solve? A fire to put out?

I wasn’t present anywhere. I was just waiting.

Waiting for the next message. Waiting for the next ask. Waiting for something important to happen.

And meanwhile, the things I actually wanted to work on kept getting pushed off. The meaningful work. The creative work. The work that fills me up. It was always postponed in favour of small, tedious, non-urgent tasks that somehow felt urgent simply because they arrived in my inbox.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, I was exhausted. Not fulfilled. Not proud. Just tired.

So I’d pour a drink. Sit at the table with my laptop open or zone out in front of the TV with my husband. Go to bed. Wake up. Repeat.

As I write this, it feels exhausting to even reread. And that’s when it hit me.

That wasn’t a life.
That was a hamster wheel.

And I am not a hamster.

Once I saw it clearly, I couldn’t unsee it.

The way I was moving through my days wasn’t working.

Keeping email open all day wasn’t working.
Bringing my phone everywhere wasn’t working.
Taking my laptop with me “just in case” wasn’t working.
Being available all the time wasn’t working.
The automatic drink at five to wash away another Groundhog Day wasn’t working.

Even my sleep wasn’t working. I’d go to bed thinking about everything I didn’t get to, everything I forgot, everything I hoped I’d somehow do tomorrow. And then I’d wake up and run the exact same day again.

I couldn’t look ahead three months, six months, a year and accept that nothing would change.

That wasn’t good enough for me.
That wasn’t okay.

So I asked myself a different question: “If this isn’t the life I want, what actually needs to change?”

The first thing I realized was this: my mornings mattered more than I ever let them.

Morning is my most uninterrupted time. It’s when my brain is clear. It’s when I’m most creative. It’s when I can build, create, write, and work on the things that actually move my life forward.

So mornings became mine.

No email.
No social media.
No other people’s priorities.

Instead of grabbing my phone, I grab a book. Instead of reacting, I create.

Movement became non-negotiable. Sometimes it’s a long walk. Sometimes it’s a workout. Sometimes it’s just breaking the day up with fresh air. But I need that time to refuel instead of constantly consuming.

I stopped carrying my phone everywhere. I started leaving it behind. I started telling the people I work with when I’m not available. I put boundaries around my time instead of assuming I needed to be on call.

And when something comes in, I don’t immediately say yes anymore.

I pause.
I check my capacity.
I ask myself what I’d have to say no to in order to say yes.

That alone changed everything.

Evenings needed intention too.

That automatic five-o’clock drink wasn’t solving anything. It was numbing the fact that every day felt the same. So I questioned it. I changed it. I made it intentional.

Time with my husband mattered. That part stayed. But I realized it didn’t have to look like collapsing in front of a TV every night. What mattered wasn’t the setting, it was the presence. As long as that time was ours, it counted.

And sleep? That improved once my days stopped feeling unfinished. When you actually do the things that matter, your brain doesn’t need to replay the day all night looking for closure.

When I really looked at how I was spending my days, it was confronting.

The habits I had built were quietly pulling me further away from where I wanted to be. And if I kept them, nothing would change. I’d still be in the same spot months from now, just more tired.

So I changed the structure of my days instead of blaming myself for lacking discipline.

Because time is valuable. And how you fill it matters.

Your days are not neutral. They are either moving you closer to the life you want or quietly draining you.

And once you see that clearly, you can’t ignore it.

The good news is this: you don’t need to overhaul your entire life overnight.

You just need to start choosing what gets your best hours, your best energy, and your attention.

That’s where everything begins.

Because it’s truly freeing to own your day instead of it owning you.

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Michelle Gallant

Author | Creator | Advocate for a Fulfilled Life

Cover Image Captured by: Amanda Rentiers Photography