Stop Doing List

 Recently, I went down a bit of a rabbit hole.

It started with a visit to Middle Girl’s blog. Her artwork was beautiful, but it was the quote she featured—“Love is an action, never simply a feeling”—that really stuck with me. It reminded me of something I’d read years ago. I even commented, saying “Love is a verb,” though I couldn’t quite remember where I’d heard that phrase.

Turns out, I misattributed it—or at least half-remembered it. After some head-scratching and digging, I finally traced it back to Patty Digh and her book “Life is a Verb”—a book I actually own. Go figure.

As I reread some of her work, another quote of hers jumped out at me:

“Sometimes our stop-doing list needs to be bigger than our to-do list.”

And just like that, down another rabbit hole I went.

This time of year, my to-do list is packed with gardening tasks and outdoor chores. But the idea of a “stop-doing” list hit differently. It made me pause and consider what habits, thought patterns, and distractions I might need to let go of in order to create more space for presence, purpose, and connection.

Here’s what’s presently making it onto my stop-doing list:

Stop doom scrolling first thing in the morning. A quick check for new grandkid pics on my daughters’ socials is fine—then it’s time to get up and get moving.

Stop mindlessly eating. Food deserves intention, not distraction.

Stop avoiding triggers. After years and years of therapy, I estimate I have mastered about 95% of my former triggers. But I still find myself avoiding certain situations/people/conversations. Leaning into discomfort is often where the healing begins.

Stop dodging difficult conversations. Sometimes facing them can mend old wounds and strengthen bridges.

Stop taking relationships for granted. They require time, care, and attention. It’s too easy to coast on routine and shared history.

Stop tolerating the erosion of my boundaries. I once let a friend ridicule my critical boundaries and it caused so much damage that I’m still trying to untangle it.  But I have learned. Respect begins with me.

I am learning that love, connection, and purpose aren’t built through my busyness—they take root in the quiet moments I am making by releasing what no longer serves me.