I’ve read so many articles about transforming your life. The 5am morning routines. The complete diet rewrites. The meditation practices that need thirty uninterrupted minutes of stillness. The workout plans that promise everything if you’d just fully commit.
And I’ve felt that particular kind of despair that comes from reading those articles while barely managing to stay afloat. When you’re wiped out, when you’re struggling, when just surviving the day uses up all you’ve got, the last thing you need is a list of sweeping life changes. You need something smaller. Something you can actually do.
This is that list.
These aren’t things that will fix everything. They’re not magic. They’re just tiny tools that have helped me and people I know make it through hard stretches. Stuff you can do when you’ve got almost no energy left. Things that take seconds or minutes, not hours. Things that meet you where you actually are instead of demanding you be somewhere else.
Before I get into the list, I want to say something about why small things matter. Especially when you’re running on empty.
When you’re struggling, your capacity gets smaller. Things that used to be easy start feeling impossible. The distance between where you are and where you feel like you should be looks enormous, and that gap itself becomes exhausting. Every time you fail at some big change it just reinforces this belief that you can’t do anything right.
Tiny actions work differently. They sneak past your overwhelmed brain. They don’t set off the same alarm bells. And when you actually do them, even though they’re small, they create this little flicker of agency. A reminder that you can still do something. That you’re not totally frozen.
Small stuff also accumulates in ways you don’t always notice. One tiny action probably won’t change your life. But a hundred of them, spread across hard days? They build a foundation. They keep you above water until you’ve got the energy for bigger things.
So don’t write these off as too simple. Simple is kind of the whole point.
Drink one glass of water. Not eight glasses. Not some hydration overhaul. Just one. Right now, or first thing when you wake up. Being dehydrated makes everything feel worse, and this takes thirty seconds.
Step outside for sixty seconds. You don’t have to take a walk. You don’t have to exercise. Just open the door, go outside, breathe the air for one minute. Notice the temperature on your skin. Look up at whatever sky is there. Go back inside if you want.
Stretch one thing. Roll your neck around slowly. Reach your arms up over your head. Point and flex your feet. Just one small movement to remind your body it exists beyond all that tension it’s been storing.
Eat one actual thing. If you’ve been running on nothing or junk, add one real food. An apple. Cheese and crackers. A handful of nuts. You don’t have to eat perfectly. Just one thing with actual nutrition in it.
Lie on the floor for five minutes. I know this sounds strange but it does something. Just lie flat on your back, no pillow, let gravity do its work. Something about the hard surface and the stillness seems to reset the nervous system a little.
Name what you’re feeling. Out loud or in your head, just put a word to it. “I’m anxious.” “I’m sad.” “I’m exhausted and overwhelmed.” Turns out naming emotions actually dials down their intensity. Takes three seconds. Helps more than it should.
Do one thing and then stop. Pick the smallest task you can think of. Send one email. Wash one dish. Put away one object. Then stop. Let that be enough. This isn’t about productivity. It’s about proving to yourself that you can still take action.
Write three sentences. Not a journal entry. Not morning pages. Three sentences about anything at all. How you feel. What you see. What happened today. The bar is low enough that you might actually clear it.
Give your worry a time limit. If anxious thoughts are running wild, put them in a box. Set a timer for five minutes and let yourself worry completely. When it goes off, try to shift to something else. You can always schedule another worry session later if you need it.
Find one good thing. This isn’t toxic positivity. It’s not pretending things are fine. Just one small genuinely good thing about today. The coffee tasted right. There was a moment of quiet. Someone smiled at you. Train your brain to catch these alongside everything else.
Make your bed. Yeah, I know this sounds like graduation speech advice. But taking sixty seconds to pull up the covers creates this tiny pocket of order in the mess. One thing that’s handled. One corner that looks okay.
Clear one surface. Not your whole place. One surface. A section of the counter. Your nightstand. Just remove everything, wipe it down, leave it empty. Having one clear space is weirdly calming.
Open a window. Fresh air shifts something in a room. Even when it’s cold out. Even for just a few minutes. Let different air in.
Change your lighting. If you’ve been under harsh overhead lights, switch to a lamp. If you’ve been sitting in the dark, let some light in. Lighting does more to mood than most people realize. Takes two seconds.
Put your phone in a different room. Just for an hour. Or half an hour. Or for one meal. That constant pull drains energy you can’t spare right now. A little distance creates a little breathing room.
Text one person. Doesn’t have to become a whole conversation. Just send something. “Hey, thinking about you.” “How’s it going?” “Having a rough time lately.” Human contact matters, even in small doses.
Let yourself cry if it’s there. Don’t force it down. Find somewhere private if you need to and let it happen. Crying is a release valve. Your body trying to help. Five minutes of actually crying can move something that hours of holding it together never will.
Pet an animal. If you’ve got one, spend a couple minutes just paying attention to the fur, the warmth, the aliveness of them. If you don’t have a pet, watch a video of animals doing something sweet. This sounds ridiculous but it genuinely does something to your nervous system.
Say one kind thing to yourself. Just one. “I’m doing what I can.” “This is hard and I’m still showing up.” “I deserve a break.” Say it even if it feels fake. Especially if it feels fake.
Let something go. One expectation you’ve been holding yourself to. One thing that doesn’t actually have to happen today. One standard you’ve been failing to meet. Just for today, release it. Tomorrow you can pick it back up if you want.
Here’s what I really want you to walk away with: you don’t have to transform your life right now. You don’t have to optimize anything. You don’t have to be better.
You just have to get through today. And sometimes getting through today looks like doing one small thing that makes it slightly less awful.
These tiny actions aren’t a cure. They won’t fix what’s underneath. But they can soften a hard day by a fraction. They can remind you that you still have some say in things, even when everything feels beyond your control. They can carry you until you’ve got the capacity for something more.
And honestly? Some days that’s the whole game.
Start with one thing. The smallest one that seems even remotely possible. That’s enough for now.
You don’t have to do this perfectly. You just have to do something small.
