Every morning for the past year, right before the rush of emails and to-do lists took over my day, I’ve done one small thing that changed my perspective on, well, everything: I make my bed.

Yes, I know. Groundbreaking stuff, right? But hear me out—this isn’t about whether hospital corners are your thing or if you’re the type to collect throw pillows like Oscars. It’s about the ritual, the symbolism, and how one simple act gave me a sense of control during a season of life that felt like surfing against the tide.

Let me explain.

The Unmade Metaphor

A few years ago, my life looked a lot like my bedroom did most mornings: cluttered and chaotic. I was juggling a full-time job, freelance gigs, and a budding writing career while trying to figure out if my boyfriend at the time was “the one” (spoiler alert: he wasn’t). Each day felt like I was riding the scrambler at an old-school carnival—dizzying, disorienting, and impossible to control.

And my bed? Total disaster. Which, in hindsight, was kind of fitting. It’s not that I didn’t care about tidiness (I mean, I wasn’t a complete heathen). I cared—it just felt like one more thing I didn’t have time for. “What’s the point?” was my mentality. After all, I was just going to crawl back into the sheets at night.

But then, one morning, between sipping lukewarm coffee and dodging another existential crisis, I came across a video of some admiral giving a commencement speech. You’ve probably heard of it—the one where he says, “If you want to change the world, start by making your bed.” It wasn’t so much the military-grade precision he described that resonated with me but the idea of starting the day with a small, doable win.

I figured, why not give it a shot?

Small Habit, Big Shift

So the next morning, I did it. Nothing fancy. I just pulled the covers up, fluffed the pillows, and smoothed out the wrinkles. And to my surprise, that three-minute act set a tone. Suddenly, my room felt just a little more put together. And me? I felt... accomplished.

It became a routine—the one thing I did for myself before the chaos of the world demanded my attention. On good days, making my bed felt like icing on the cake. On bad days, it was the “win” I clung to when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

Here’s what I realized: when I made my bed, I wasn’t just tidying up—I was taking charge. In a world where so much feels outside of our control (anyone else want to have a word with Mercury in retrograde?), there’s something to be said for claiming a small but tangible victory.

Why This Matters for Life (and Relationships)

Here’s where we get personal. Around the same time I started this new habit, my relationship faced its final storm. You know the one—the slow decline where red flags you used to excuse start waving around like they’re in a parade. My partner and I had more issues than Netflix has true crime docs, but the real wake-up call came when I realized how often I was waiting for him to fix everything.

Once I started making my bed, though, I saw parallels in my relationship. I understood that I couldn’t rely on someone else to make things “better”—not in my environment, not in my head, and definitely not in my heart. Laying a blanket out smoothly reminded me that sometimes, taking care of what’s in front of you is the only way to move forward.

Worried you’re stuck, too? Here’s how a seemingly trivial habit can offer some profound life lessons:

  • Control the controllable. Can you mend every flaw in your relationship? Nope. But can you show up for yourself in small, consistent ways? Absolutely.
  • Invest in your space. Whether it’s your physical home or the metaphorical one in your heart, keeping it in order gives you a sense of pride and peace.
  • Start small. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed when facing big life obstacles. Making your bed taught me to focus on what I could do instead of spiraling over what I couldn’t.

The Takeaway: It’s Not About the Bed

Now, I could be poetic and tell you that making my bed resolved my quarter-life crises, but that’d be about as believable as a Hallmark rom-com plot. What it did do is give me a framework—starting small, being intentional, and finding beauty in the mundane.

That tiny three-minute habit became my reminder to show up for myself daily, whether it was setting boundaries at work, walking away from a relationship that no longer served me, or finally finishing the second draft of my novel. Making my bed taught me that consistency—especially in the little things—builds confidence to tackle the big things.

And funny enough, my mom was right all along (don’t you just hate when moms are right?). She used to tell me, “How you treat your space reflects how you treat yourself.” Turns out that when you respect your space—whatever that space may be—you plant tiny seeds of self-respect.

Build a Habit, Build a Life

Ready to try your own small shift? You don’t have to grab hospital corners or invest in a thirty-dollar candle (though hey, do you). Your “habit” can take another form—morning stretches, journaling, or even watering the plant you swore you wouldn’t kill. The secret isn’t the habit itself. It’s what it represents: care, attention, and, honestly, an unapologetic reminder that you matter.

Will making your bed every morning fix all your problems? Probably not. But it might start a ripple effect of intentionality—a foundation you can build on to navigate not just the day, but the parts of your life where you feel a little unmade. Because the truth is, the path to feeling grounded doesn’t start with seismic shifts. It starts with the small stuff.

And sometimes, the first step is as simple as pulling up the covers.