The Rituals That Keep Me Sane and Slightly Less Chaotic

I’m not going to lie—life feels like a tornado some days. Between the chaos of work, texts I keep forgetting to reply to, dishes that magically multiply overnight, and just trying to be a halfway decent human, it’s easy to feel like I’m constantly playing catch-up.

But there are these tiny, quiet rituals I’ve clung to. They're not glamorous. You won’t find them in some Pinterest-perfect morning routine guide. But they keep me grounded. They’re my little anchors in the noise. So I figured I’d share them—not because I’ve got it all figured out, but because maybe you’ll recognize a bit of yourself in them.

1. Morning chai in silence (no phone, no news, no noise)

Every morning, before the world barges in, I make my "Chaa'h"(as we call it) and sit—just sit. No scrolling. No productivity hacks. Just me, the warmth of the mug, and the quiet. It’s like giving my brain a moment to stretch before it starts running.

Some days, I stare out the window and let my thoughts wander without trying to control them. Some days I just sit in complete stillness and listen—to the hum of the city, the occasional bird, or absolutely nothing at all.

The view from my high-rise apartment makes it even better. I can see the city slowly waking up—tiny people walking dogs, the sky shifting colours, the skyline catching the first bit of sun. It’s beautiful. And I live in a picturesque city anyway, so even on grey days, something is comforting about just watching life unfold from above. Like I’m part of the world, but at a soft, safe distance.

2. Midday mindfulness (aka, stepping away before I lose my mind)

Around midday, when my brain feels like a browser with 47 tabs open—half of them frozen—I make myself pause. Not for anything fancy. No incense or hour-long meditations. Just a few quiet minutes where I step away from whatever I’m doing and check in with myself.

Because of the nature of my job, I’m mostly outdoors, which weirdly works in my favor. If it’s not a wet or miserable day, I’ll find a quiet spot in a nearby park and just sit. No phone. No rushing. Just me, the trees, maybe a bench that isn’t falling apart, and a bit of sky.

Sometimes I people-watch. Sometimes I just zone out and let my thoughts drift. Sometimes I take deep breaths and remind myself, “You’re not a machine. You’re allowed to stop.”

It sounds small, but it works. It’s like hitting a reset button in the middle of the day before I get into stress-eating a bagel (with lettuce, hashbrown and Chipotle sauce inside) from Tim Hortons and questioning all my life choices. (Okay, sometimes that still happens. But less.)

3. Screens off, feet up (my unofficial “don’t talk to me” hour)

All my jobs involve talking to people and listening to their problems. By the end of the day, I am done talking.
(And if any of my friends are reading this—yes, this is why I don’t pick up the phone or do long catch-ups. I still love you, I’m just socially maxed out by 6 PM.)

So I unplug. No calls. No emails. No doomscrolling. Just screens off, feet up.

Sometimes I lie on the couch in complete silence. Other times, I play music that feels like a warm blanket—something slow, maybe nostalgic. I let my body be still and do absolutely nothing productive. Not stretching, not planning, not trying to “optimize” the downtime.

It’s become this unofficial hour where I reclaim a little space for myself. Not always exactly an hour, to be honest—sometimes it’s ten minutes, sometimes longer. But it’s a boundary I’ve started drawing between me and the constant noise.

It’s not self-care with candles and affirmations. It’s just… letting myself be for a bit. And it makes a huge difference.

4. That one comforting meal I keep coming back to

’m not a chef. I don’t cook to impress. But when life feels like too much, there’s this one meal I always return to—a plate of daal (Indian-style lentils), roti (a soft, handmade flatbread), achaar (spicy Indian pickle), papad (crispy lentil cracker), and a side of fresh salad. That’s it. Nothing fancy. Just the kind of food I grew up eating, back when the world felt slower and less complicated.

There’s a kind of quiet magic in it. The warmth of the daal, the crisp bite of the papad, the sharp tang of the achaar—it all feels like home. Like childhood. Like a version of life that didn’t involve 87 WhatsApp messages, performance reviews, or feeling behind on everything.

I make it when I’m tired, overstimulated, or just craving something that doesn’t require a recipe or a YouTube tutorial. It’s grounding. It reminds me of who I am, where I come from, and that comfort doesn’t need to be dressed up.

Sometimes I sit cross-legged on the floor and eat it like I used to as a kid. No phone. No distractions. Just food that feeds more than hunger.

5. The “closing ceremony” of my day

If any of you want to gift me something, I’ll make it easy for you—gift me scented candles. I’m so fond of them that there hasn’t been a single day in the recent past since I haven’t lit up a candle in the evening.

I like trying different scents—sometimes something fresh and citrusy, other times warm and cozy. It’s like a small adventure that helps me mark the end of the day.

I turn off the big lights (which, by the way, rarely get turned on—my electricity bill is usually low because I’m all about those dim lights). Honestly, the only time I flip on the overheads is when I’m trying to find that one stubborn sock in the dryer.

Instead, I settle in with my favourite playlists by ORGAVSM(try it on YouTube)—those vibes always set the perfect mood. Most nights, I’m too tired to do anything else, so I just let myself be in that calm space for a bit before bed.

This isn’t about perfection or productivity. It’s more about mentally closing the day. Like telling my brain, “You did enough today. It’s time to wind down.”

That simple act of lighting a candle and sinking into the quiet feels like drawing a line between the chaos of the day and the calm of the evening. It’s a small, grounding moment that makes all the difference.

Final Thoughts: Embracing Little Rituals

It’s incredible how small rituals can be the unsung heroes of our lives.

These rituals don’t make me perfect or fix all my problems. But they give me tiny moments of calm in a world that sometimes feels too loud and fast. They’re my way of grounding myself when everything else feels messy.

The little rituals become anchors in the storm, reminders that no matter how chaotic things get, you can find a moment of peace.

Maybe you don’t need candles, or a quiet park, or that one comforting meal. Maybe your rituals look totally different. And that’s okay.

What matters is finding those small moments—whatever they are—that help you say, “I’m here. I’m okay. I can breathe.” Because sometimes, that’s all we really need to keep going.

I would love to hear from you—what little rituals keep you sane? Send me an email and share your go-to moments of calm. Let’s inspire each other to find peace in the everyday chaos.