Things That Used to Be ‘Extra’ But Are Now Essential
A 30s survival guide (brought to you by magnesium, boundaries, and silence).
There was a time, not too long ago, when I’d roll my eyes at things like “sleep hygiene,” “mood lighting,” and “don’t forget to breathe.”
Back then, I had energy to spare, bad decisions to make, and the emotional elasticity of a cartoon character.
I believed in pushing through.
Productivity over peace.
Caffeine over hydration.
And the idea that naps were for toddlers or failures.
Cut to today:
I now own a sunrise lamp.
I stretch before sleeping.
I cancel plans with zero guilt.
And I am emotionally invested in the firmness level of my pillow.
Basically, I’ve reached that point in life where things I once considered extra are now essential to my mental and physical survival.
Let me explain.
1. Sleep is no longer a suggestion. It’s a medical requirement.
Gone are the days of staying up till 4 AM and thriving the next day.
Now, if I sleep on the wrong pillow, I wake up with a crick in my neck and a grudge against the universe.
My bedtime routine includes lavender spray, zero scrolling, and hoping my anxiety respects the sleep schedule.
I also cannot sleep without my sleep mask and my dimmable night lamp on.
Do they contradict each other? Absolutely.
But it is what it is. Don’t ask questions. My nervous system has rules.
Honestly, sleep feels like a daily audition for peace, and some nights I don’t get the part.
2. Water bottles with straws.
I used to laugh. Now I own two.
You know the ones.
Tall. Emotional support energy. Go everywhere with you.
Turns out, sipping from a straw tricked my brain into hydration.
Who knew?
Twenty-something me thought this was influencer nonsense.
Thirty-something me is grateful for every drop of water I don’t forget to drink.
3. Saying no. Without three follow-up apologies.
Used to be: “Of course! No worries at all :)”
Now it’s: “Unfortunately, I can’t.” And then I go take a nap instead of spiraling.
Saying no used to feel dramatic. Now it feels like emotional self-preservation.
I don’t need to overexplain anymore.
A soft “no” is self-care.
A firm “no” is therapy.
4. Quiet. Like actual silence.
No background noise. No podcast. No “motivational playlist.”
Just quiet.
I used to fear silence. Now it feels like home.
If I’m home alone and it’s quiet? That’s not sadness. That’s luxury.
5. Therapy. Not a luxury. A lifeline.
You know what used to be extra?
Talking about your feelings.
Naming your triggers.
Understanding why you’re reacting instead of pretending you’re “just tired.”
There was a time I thought therapy was “too much” or “too expensive.”
Now? It’s part of my budget, right under groceries and WiFi.
Even if my therapist ghosts me sometimes (yes, this happens), I’m sticking to it.
I’ve entered my therapy shopping era, trying different approaches, checking vibes, evaluating response times like I’m hiring someone to manage my entire emotional portfolio.
CBT? I don’t just go to it.
CBT is my personality now.
It’s all I wear.
6. Not answering immediately.
This isn’t rudeness.
This is healing.
Let me just see your message, then stare at a wall, emotionally process it, and respond next Tuesday. Maybe.
7. Magnesium.
I don’t know how it works. But I swear it’s doing something.
I just know if I skip it, I'll wake up feeling like I fought demons in my dreams.
8. Emotional honesty. (Even when it’s awkward.)
I used to want to be easygoing. Chill. Low-maintenance.
Now?
I want to be clear.
I want to be understood.
I want to say things like “That didn’t sit well with me” without fearing I’ll ruin the vibe.
Turns out, ruining the vibe is better than ruining yourself.
9. Money doesn’t buy happiness? Let’s not lie.
Listen. I used to say things like “money isn’t everything.”
Then I started online shopping.
Money absolutely buys happiness.
In the form of home organizers.
Korean skincare.
That parcel that shows up just when you forgot you ordered it.
Retail therapy is real.
And I’m not ashamed of the joy a perfectly timed delivery brings.
Money may not grow on trees
But I’m planting mine.
And I plan to water it regularly with paid invoices and boundary-protected freelance rates.
So what changed?
Honestly everything.
The world. My energy. My priorities. My willingness to suffer unnecessarily.
But mostly, I changed.
I stopped trying to be impressive.
I started trying to be okay.
And that means soft boundaries, magnesium supplements, therapy shopping, and sleep masks that may or may not be worn over a night lamp.
So if you’re finding yourself in a new season of softness, slowness, unapologetic quiet, and adult joy.
You’re not becoming boring.
You’re becoming well.
And no, this isn’t “extra.”
This is maintenance.
This is growth.
This is peace.
