chill intentions

Hey.

I’m G, a 30something writer, ex corporate baddie, and communications strategist. This is my blog dedicated to living life off autopilot.

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  • The Importance of Play for Adults

    an escape room because this was fun and counts as play
    an escape room because this was fun and counts as play

    When I first quit my full-time job almost exactly one year ago, I found my days filled with an abundance of freedom.

    And while this was incredibly thrilling, it was also anxiety-inducing at first. 

    Without an organization owning my professional priorities and primary life schedule, I found myself with so. Much. Time.

    Time? WTF is that? What do I do with it? How do I structure it? How do I maximize it? 

    At first, because I am a recovering hustle princess, I defaulted into productivity mode. I went to work putting systems in place that would help me maximize my daytime hours. 

    My early post-quit days typically looked like this:

    • Two hours dedicated to writing
    • One hour dedicated to researching a business topic I was curious about
    • Another spent reaching out to cold and warm leads for my business
    • Forty-five minutes of exercise
    • An hour or three of sidetracked admin, doom scrolling
    • Rest of the day: Panic about what else I should be doing, beat myself up for not doing enough

    In short, I channeled all my energy toward productivity. I barely left time for rest, let alone play. 

    Because from my POV, gurrrl there was no time. I’d left my source of income; it was time to hustle! 

    All work, no play. No time to be silly.

    But as the months rolled on, some interesting feelings set in: When was the last time I actually had total control over my time like this? When was the last time I didn’t wake up with my brain full of things I needed to get done for someone else’s dream?

    When’s the last time I had…time? And why am I in such a rush to pass it? 

    What if I just like…chilled out and let myself do things just because?

    Gradually, I started giving myself a break for doing stuff that wasn’t part of my daily productivity plan. Like teaching my stubborn senior dog some tricks, and learning to brush his teeth–a PROCESS, baybee. Or going for a hike in the middle of the day. Or cooking a new recipe from TikTok (or Reels from repurposed TikToks, let’s be real). Or watching a crappy movie whose ending I saw coming from 10 miles away. Or “unproductive” writing in my journal. You get it.

    Ironically, in the times I allowed myself time to disconnect, dream, and do things “just because,” is often when my most peaceful, inspired moments would arrive. In the moments when I wouldn’t chase them down. In the moments I’d play.

    As if life was telling me that it’s important to play. That play is just as crucial to adulthood as in childhood.

    Why Play Is Crucial for Adults

    As adults, finding time for play can be hard. If you’re a fellow millennial like me, you’ve probably had a conversation(s) like this recently: I’m too old for that. Who has time for hobbies? No new friends. Bruh, my knees; I’m good to sit this one out.

    All things that are valid to an extent! Maybe?

    But, it’s important to strike the balance between statements we use to protect ourselves vs. ones that hold us back. 

    My brethren, I’m here to give you permission for unstructured, creative play. Adults need to play. Why? 

    Because life’s short.

    Because numerous studies and people way smarter than me say so. See:

    • Dr. Stuart Brown, head of the National Institute for Play, told NPR: “Play is something done for its own sake. It’s voluntary, it’s pleasurable, it offers a sense of engagement, it takes you out of time. And the act itself is more important than the outcome.”
    • According to mental health nonprofit HealthGuide.org, play helps relieve stress, improve brain function, stimulate the mind, boost creativity, improve relationships and your connection to others, and helps keep you feeling young and energetic. Hello?
    • The National Institute for Play (THE authority on play) also says that having fun aka playing is the healthiest way to spend your time, after feeding and housing yourself.
    • Health studies from Carnegie Mellon suggest that daily play is associated with a positive emotional and relational climate, and with feeling more effective in handling diabetes stressors.
    • NBC News says that when done frequently, play strengthens your heart, boosts your lung function, and lowers your risk of developing coronary heart disease. 

    In short, play as an adult is not juvenile. Play is conducive to personal growth. Play keeps your fine, aging-like-wine self young and healthy. Play is good for our creativity and well-being.

    But what does play look like for seasoned folks who have been trained to put themselves in the backseat all their lives?

    Simple Ways To Incorporate Play

    elder emo at the olivia rodrigo GUTS concert
    me, an elder emo, playing at the olivia rodrigo GUTS concert. because it was fun as hell.

    Luckily, finding ways to play as adults is simple. You can start by thinking of an activity you enjoy. Or you can try something new that intrigues you. The beauty of play is that it doesn’t need a strategy. Just try something out and see where it takes you. 

    As long as you enter a playful mindset and allow yourself to have fun, you’re partaking.

    But if you’re a list lover or someone who just needs a starting point, here are some ideas for incorporating play into your grown-up life:

    • Get outside. Hike. Jog. Walk with your earbuds in. Just move and feel the elements on your skin. Movement and nature are medicine. I am not a doctor, but many doctors and even NatGeo say so.
    • Involve others. Plan a weekend gathering with friends, sign up for a class (paint and sip, pottery, or cooking, anyone?), see a concert, or try a new restaurant together. Make a list of places you haven’t seen in your city, then grab your favorite person and play tourist.
    • Schedule routine play (wow, how adult does that sound?). Set a timer for 30 minutes and let yourself do a crossword puzzle, doodle, free write, dance and sing to your favorite songs, or read. Until time’s up, the sky’s the limit.
    • Look at art, even if you’re not an art person. What better way to get out of your head than to visit galleries literally dedicated to showing work from other people’s heads? Head (lol) to your local museum to look at cool things made by others. Maybe you’ll feel inspired. Maybe you’ll feel confused. Maybe you’ll feel bored. But you’ll certainly feel something. Many museums also offer free days and special event promos!
    • Batch and time your to-do lists. This one might spark side-eyes but I find it fun, so I say it counts. When life becomes an ever-growing to-do list, try this “Power Hour” concept from entrepreneur Amanda Goetz: Keep a running list of all your non-urgent, must-do items. Every week, schedule a block of time when your brain’s headed into weekend mode. Knock out as many tasks as possible in that block. It’s like a game. A grown-and-sexy, productive, responsible game that reduces your cognitive load. FUN!
    • Read. A cool way to explore new worlds and curiosities without taking a single step? Books. I’m usually reading a few books at a time–a non-fiction for creative or business advice, a fiction one for fun and feels. The non-fiction is my daytime read (5-10 pages during lunch), while the fiction pick is my bedtime read to help me fall asleep. Reading engages your mind differently than watching screens, and a 2009 study at the University of Sussex found that reading can reduce stress by up to 68%. So head to a bookstore, or better yet, visit your local library to read to your heart’s content for free. 
    • Get puzzled. Jigsaw puzzles are fun, low-key ways to play at home. You can also enjoy them alongside a movie, show, or with your partner and friends.
    • Join a creative community. When I started writing my first novel, I didn’t know a single author. So, I sought out other writers by joining organizations like SCBWI and writers’ groups on Facebook. The people I met through these groups have progressed me toward my wildest dreams like I never thought possible, and we’ve helped each other so much. These groups have also made me a better writer, friend, and entrepreneur. Best of all? They’re pretty easy to find, and most are free. Search Facebook, Google, and local community boards for groups of like-minded people with similar interests.
    • Spend time with the youth. Hanging with kids helps you experience play from their perspective. It can also be entertaining as hell–I’ve learned so much about Gen Z slang and isms from my nephews. (They’re not little kids, but they’re a blast to be around! I consider it play.) If you don’t have kids, arrange time to visit your friends’ kids, nephews, nieces, or other young relatives. 
    • Visit a thrift or novelty store. It’s fun to explore gems that have been pre-loved, or stores dedicated to specialties like magic, comics, games, or toys. Thrift and novelty storess offer unique perspectives on different niches. You might even come across your next hobby or inspiration.

    Well, this has been fun. But let’s connect and share ideas around play for adults.

    Fellow adults, how do you play? 

    In

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  • Making Fear Your Friend

    make fear your friend like clear warm ass water in the philippines

    Rewriting insecure voices, self-doubt, and the cost of just going for it

    How do you make fear your friend when self-doubt keeps puncturing your thoughts like pins to a balloon?

    Insecure voices are something I have plenty of experience with.

    The ones that kept me on the “straight and narrow” for over a decade, watching my job titles, salary, and ego tick upward. 

    The ones that kept me small every time the idea of “maybeee writing a book could be fun and fill some of this sad dusty hole that keeps growing inside?” would pop up in my head, only to be tampered with “Bish, you wrote 1.5 pieces for Medium like a decade ago. You’re not an author.” 

    The ones that would pop up to ask me what business I had quitting my job when I’d recently gotten married, taken on a new mortgage in one of the country’s most expensive states, and didn’t have another job lined up nor an exit strategy. 

    The ones that told me how irrational I was being, screaming RED FLAG RED FLAG.

    Fear has many purposes.

    In its most basic form, fear can protect us from making stupid decisions, like touching a blazing fire or approaching a bear on a wayward hike. (Does this happen often? IDK! It’s the first example that popped into my head.) 

    But fear can also prevent us from letting in good things. It can hold us back from trying a new place, skill, or interest because we’re afraid of looking strange, stupid, or naive. It can prevent us from seeing signals telling us that the way we’re currently living no longer serves us. 

    It can block us from going after what is truly meant for us. It can keep us small.

    And in that way, fear can also be boring as hell.

    In the past year since leaving my full-time lifestyle (and way before that!), I’ve encountered fear in spades. 

    Fear of failure. 

    Fear of the dwindling numbers in my bank account. 

    Fear of whether people would still care about me if I was no longer associated with the cool company I’d worked for. 

    Fear of, what if this book I’d spent years dreaming up and writing wasn’t actually good, and no one cared? 

    Fear of disappointing myself and my loved ones. 

    Fear of, what if what waited for me on the other side of ditching my secure lifestyle was…not that great?

    I read recently that sometimes, the best way to rewrite the voices in your head is to start talking to them.

    Yes, as in, get to know those fools. Because maybe all they want is to be heard, and simply listening to fear doesn’t mean you’re handing it the reins. You can make fear your friend.

    Personally, I’ve found there is power in humanizing your thoughts this way. I’m in no way a mental health expert or therapist. I’m just an emo millennial speaking from my lived experiences. But in the months that followed leaving my job, I spent a lot of time with those voices in thought, writing, and speech. 

    Whenever I was going about my day and an insecure voice would creep in, I’d try listening instead of immediately drowning it out with music, TV, or alcohol. I’d pretend fear was a friend who just needed a minute to vent.

    I’d hear it call me stupid, or untalented, or unprepared. 

    Then I’d gradually train it to take a backseat by telling them their input was welcome, that I’d make space for it, but I’d never let them drive because I was the one in control. I would empathize with the fear, but never feed it.

    And to my surprise, the voices gradually became less loud. Less scary. Less afraid. Less powerful.

    In journaling, I gave the insecure voices another place to go. 

    I could let them have the pen-mic for a little bit, talk their shit, then I’d pivot to writing down the stuff that was more important to me. Where I wanted to focus: Gratitude, goals, plans. 

    Gradually, I was able to start containing the voices within the pages. And eventually, the anxious, fearful thoughts that would keep me up at night got quieter. 

    Maybe they felt heard and placed, and knew that I’d get back to them if I ever needed them? 

    Ironically, once I laid down the thoughts this way, it’s rare I revisited.

    In speaking with trusted loved ones, I gave the voices another productive space to moan, spiral, and tire out. 

    In letting the fear breathe verbally, often it would be met with wonderful empathy, advice, and relatability. Sharing my insecurities in discussions with those who know my heart helped me see them in a new light, and reminded me I was never alone. 

    The point is, thinking is productive to an extent. But after awhile, what matters more is what we do with our thoughts because it’s the doing that moves life forward. 

    Ultimately, doing is the biggest thing that consistently helps me work past fear, once I’ve given my fears healthy places to go. In that way, fear became my ally, propelling me into my next chapter.

    Make fear your friend by recognizing it.

    And be careful or what you let in your mind, and where you let your mind linger. It builds on what you feed it. 

    The cost of going after your dreams

    I’m also painfully aware there are literal costs to going after your dreams. 

    The cost of not having a consistent paycheck. The cost of living, which varies among people, locations, and circumstances. The cost of not being able to buy little luxuries you used to treat yourself to on the regular (in my case, weekly massages, meals out, and multiple date nights a week). Damn, I miss those days lollll. What’s shopping? 

    But you know what? To be honest, it hasn’t been that bad.

    Because this time has also reminded me of the value of the company I keep. Like my husband, my family, and my friends who just want to see me happy. For them, I am deeply grateful and fortunate.

    (Another post for another day, but my community has been the single most important thing that has kept me afloat, focused, and progressing toward my dreams. Being mindful and regularly auditing whose presence energizes or drains me was crucial by the time I wanted to make such a big change in my life.) 

    With them, I haven’t had to fill my days with much “stuff” at all.

    I’ve been able to fill that time with building my new dream.

    I’ve realized how happy I can be with so much less. (And this comes from a former New Yorker, entertainment publicist, and Leo who loooves to treat herself!)

    The truth is, I still wasn’t ready to take the leap that I did. 

    I would’ve much rather bit the bullet, clocked in one more year of savings or made it to maternity leave, given myself more financial cushion before bouncing. 

    But back then, my happiness was eroding at a speed too fast. I reached a scenario where I had to cut my losses or else I was on a path to becoming a miserable biznatch living on autopilot. (My personal journal entries are full of evidence.) And I didn’t want to do that to my loved ones or myself.

    So I decided to make fear my friend, calculate the cost of a leap of faith, and move accordingly. But always move. Move, always.

    Here’s what worked for me:

    • Before quitting my full-time job, I sat down and calculated my living expenses. 
    • I estimated the amount of time I could support myself without the FTJ. I was honest about the help I would need beyond that, if it went there. 
    • I forced myself to be willing to accept that help if the time came. (And it did, because building new things usually takes longer than you think it will.)
    • I had open conversations with my spouse, the first person I talk to about basically everything. 
    • I gathered info, thought about it, made the best plan I could with the information I had at the moment.
    • Then I leapt.
    • Burned Common’s lyrics into my brain: “Never looking back or too far in front of me. The present is a gift, and I just wanna be.” (!)
    • And I kept moving. Period. 
    a random t-shirt i stumbled across at a grocery store in the philippines, taken a few months after i quit my job. serendipity or nah?

    Four months later, after a fully-unplugged break, I signed my first client.

    Reflection made me realize that at the end of the day, the tangible cost of living without a salary was relatively easy to calculate, but continuing my previous lifestyle cost me the most. The most time, energy, and parts of myself that it frankly didn’t deserve. A price that I just wasn’t willing to pay.

    Everyone’s scenarios are different. For all the reasons I “should’ve” stayed, there were more to find a new way forward. For me.

    What about you?

    Really, I want to know what other folks do. How do you treat the insecure voices in your head? How do you make fear your friend? What’s the cost of changing your life or staying the same? Is this post resonating or failing? Is this a lot of questions at the end of a blog post?

    Let me know, Mom. x

    In

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  • Getting off autopilot and betting on yourself when life is going 100 mph

    peace out, corporate life.

    Hi, world. Recovering people pleaser here.

    “I no longer want this,” I thought to myself a year ago, crinkling like a wad of paper underneath my plush, protective, slightly suffocating duvet cover. 

    It was a Saturday morning. I’d just come back from a funeral and flight the night before. I’d been in fetal position for more than two hours since I woke up and had started feeding my brain with distractions like Netflix, doom scrolling, and white girl manifestation podcasts about quitting your job. I’d been marinating in the idea of quitting mine for months, despite ironically, being only four months into my new dream role. 

    Up to that point I’d had a successful, fulfilling 15-year PR career that took me around the world working for cool entertainment brands I’d admired as a kid. They were fun full-time jobs that weren’t traditionally “corporate.” Ones that gave me an unforgettable decade in New York and moved me and my spouse to LA where we bought a home we loved. Ones that took me around the world, put me on countless red carpets and green rooms, and brought me face-to-face with my pop culture idols. 

    I’d recently started at a dream brand I’d loved for years, was making multiple six figures, and had a cool title that no one outside of the company really understood but I was often happy to explain. 

    I had everything I’d ever wanted by manifesting and earning my goals with intention. I should be–and was–deeply grateful. Why was I feeling such unprecedented levels of debilitating anxiety to the point where I was silently crying multiple times a week? 

    Suddenly, I got a random Slack notification on my phone from a mass employee channel that I was opted into on my first day without being asked. 

    Someone I didn’t know was trying to sell a Coachella weekend 1 ticket. I was mostly frustrated that my muted notifications didn’t carry over from the snooze mode I’d turned on the day before due to taking bereavement leave. Bro. Was technology so ruthless that it lets companies access you the second it believes it has permission? 

    It led me down a rabbit hole of catching up on all the other messages I’d missed from being out for one day.

    It was a wake-up call that something felt so deeply out of alignment that it kept me awake at night and frozen in my bedsheets late into the mornings. 

    After 15 years on the grind, I was exhausted from being so accessible and overstimulated. I was tired of my time and focus constantly being taken from me without my permission. 

    I was tired of constantly-shifting company priorities, red tape, and reorgs, albeit grateful I’d survived each one up to that point. I was exhausted from the constant “crises” and brain fog, from endless performative video meetings that required every fiber of my being to feign interest when colleagues were talking about roadmaps and kudos, monetization, MAUs, and other company -isms I wish would just go to sleep. 

    I wanted to go to sleep. For a very long time. And I felt guilty and mean for even feeling this way at all. 

    My creativity was also shot, which made me low-key depressed. Deep down, I felt myself changing on a cellular level–becoming bleaker, less pleasant, less interested, less impressed, less motivated to climb, less everything, and it bled into my personal life. What was wrong with me? At all my previous jobs, I’d been repeatedly described as a “rockstar” who could go far if she kept climbing. It was the story I kept telling myself until the moment I realized, maybe I’m not even all that interested in the ending at the top.

    Mostly, it felt like a part of my life that no longer looked like me. Like a pair of rare, fancy sneakers I’d spent years drooling over that suddenly seemed too flashy, too expensive, and no longer even fit.

    I just knew I wanted less of all the above, and much more out of life.

    Another thing I knew is I’d always been hesitant to brand myself as my career, because equating my personality to my work felt strangely reductive. Why should I pin my identity to one thing when I love and am curious about so many things? I found issue with the idea of having a lane at all, the very foundation that many jobs hire on and many companies operate by. As a military brat raised across multiple area codes due to my dad’s Air Force job, I’d always been more of a hummingbird with many interests. But when it came time to graduate college and “grow up,” I did what everyone else did and dedicated myself to carving out my professional lane so I’d be taken seriously. Over the years I found fuel in each congrats, promotion, and accomplishment. It validated my efforts to build an “acceptable” way to earn my money and credentials.

    But over time, I started missing my younger self who would spring out of bed every day, excited to take on life, not knowing what was in store. Forever curious, undefined, following what felt good, deeply believing the universe always had her back. I knew she was still inside me somewhere. I desperately wanted to wake her up.

    And I knew the truth. Without me, all these corporations will undoubtedly continue to grow, break boundaries, make money, and create incredible things. 

    I wanted to challenge myself the permission to do the same–without them.

    I wanted to live life off autopilot, not on.

    Two days later from that fetal position morning, at the height of thousands of industrywide layoffs, I silenced my thoughts and I quit my job. In my late 30s, with minimal savings, a mortgage in CALIFORNIA, no set plan, but!….a curious mind, a desire to build my own dream, and a fire in my heart. Who this B think she is??

    Anyway, what’s happened since that boohoo morning a year ago? I spent lots of time generously refilling my cup with family, friends, and living life with my husband. I traveled. I finished my first novel and am polishing it up for submission. I quietly invested in a copywriting course and had a blast becoming a student again, learning a new trade. I let myself play, and do things just because, and surprise myself. I’m now freelancing as a communications strategist and copywriter for income, and my inbox and calendar are light as fuck. I’m having fun, feeling the freest I have in years, and am working hard behind the scenes to build the life I’ve been dreaming of, on my schedule and terms. 

    Don’t get me wrong. Some days are stressful as hell, but many are also filled with excitement, wonder, wins, and endless possibility.

    I’m also rich! JK. My bank account is so not what it was at the dream brand. Yet. But I’m hellbent that it will be, because sometimes I’m petty like that. But for now, I have enough.

    The point is, my life went on. So did the world.

    All to say, hi. I’m Gayle, a millennial, recovering people pleaser, ex “corporate baddie” and forever work in progress. Nice to meet you. Welcome to my corner of the internet.

    I’m an optimist. I love my family. I’m happily married. I love life. I love food, especially noodles. I love consuming stories that make me cry and laugh. And I love, love, love to write. Nothing gets me out of my head and in my zone more. To me, writing is like traveling across space and time in the safety and weirdness of my own mind. 

    This is my space dedicated to imperfect intentional living. About growing, trying new things, and giving yourself permission to change and start over every day. About betting on yourself. About refilling your cup when it’s bone dry. About making room for the good stuff, whatever that means to you. About chilling out.

    If any of those things resonate, I welcome you to walk alongside me and explore living life off autopilot, and all its twists and turns. 

    If I’ve actually been successful at turning on the comment function and it’s showing up below, will you say hello? 

    Thanks for reading. All three of you. Hi, Mom.

    G

    In

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