Letters to Myself: Entry Seven
Prompt: What slowing down has taught me about living fully?
It has taught me many things. Especially enhancing my life to be better everyday. And never lose sight of my dreams and peace.
Answer to the prompt:
Living slow has allowed me to enjoy the little things again. I get so worked up in my own brain that I sometimes lose sight of them, but now I appreciate them more than ever: walking, going to the gym, watching movies, reading whenever I want, playing games, and writing. I had forgotten how much joy these simple things brought me until I slowed down enough to notice.
Each day feels like a new opportunity to be better than yesterday. That’s the real task of slow living: to see each moment as a chance to grow. It’s not about chasing big milestones all the time, it’s about making small, intentional choices. Eating a bit healthier. Reaching out to mend a relationship. Adopting a pet who needs a home. These small steps, repeated daily, build a foundation for real success.
For most of my life, I’ve only known “go, go, go.” Always on the road, always rushing to the next thing. My car wore the cost of that lifestyle, and so did I. Only when I finally had time alone did I realize what I had been missing. Now, slowing down has changed the way I move through the world. When I travel, I take more photos, not to rush, but to capture one intentional moment each day, a practice that’s sharpened both my eye and my gratitude.
Slowing down hasn’t made life dull. It’s made it richer. It’s given me the space to breathe, to let friends come to me for once, to enjoy rest without guilt. It’s taught me that patience and peace are choices I can carry into each day.
Life moves fast, faster than we realize. But when we slow down, even just a little, we discover how much beauty and meaning exists in the in-between moments. That lesson has been one of the greatest gifts of my life so far.
This post is part of my "Letters to Myself" series — a weekly free-write blog where I explore personal growth, curiosity, and healing through simple prompts. Sometimes reflective, sometimes fun, but always real. Thank you for being here.
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Photo by Kyle Gare
