What a 90s dating manual taught me (by accident) about emotional labor, performance, and the invisible rules we still follow
From an Instagram Rabbit Hole to Gone Girl Vibes
This post started in a very on-brand way: me, scrolling Instagram late at night, down some weird little rabbit hole about toxic relationships and books that “didn’t age well.”
Somehow I ended up reading about The Rules—that infamous 90s dating guide that told women how to land a husband by being mysterious, always busy, and never texting first. Basically: be beautiful, be quiet, and never be available.
I had never read it, so I Googled it to know more—and the more I learned, the more I realized it sounded a lot like a self-help version of Gone Girl. You know… the part where she lays out how she became the “Cool Girl” to get the guy and then slowly disappeared behind the performance?
Except The Rules was real. And it sold millions of copies.
What hit me wasn’t just how outdated it was. It was how deeply familiar it still felt.
Because even now—years into marriage, five kids later, and very much not on the dating scene—I still catch myself living by rules I never signed up for.
And not just in relationships.
In motherhood. In friendship.
Even in the way I show up online.
Why This Feels Like the Real Beginning
I’ve technically had this blog for a minute—shared a few packing lists, made some checklists (because of course I did).
But this post? This feels like the actual start.
Because Simple(ish) Living Co. was never just about snacks or travel hacks.
It came from a season where everything felt heavy—where I was trying to hold it all together with spreadsheets and baby wipes.
I started this because I wanted a space to be honest about what real life looks like—and to offer little things that help.
Not in a “here’s how to do it all” way, but more like, “here’s what’s helped me hang on lately.”
If you’re in a similar season—figuring out who you are now, what matters most, and how to make things even a little easier—you’re in the right place.
The Mom Type Myth: A, B, or Just Hanging On?
There’s this thing now where we label ourselves as “mom types”:
- Type A: always on time, color-codes the lunch calendar
- Type B: forgets what day it is but always has snacks
- Type C: vibes like the middle child of motherhood—winging it with whatever’s left in the tank
I’m definitely all three. And honestly? Trying to pin myself to just one made me feel like I was failing at all of them.
It’s like I was following a set of invisible rules without even realizing it:
- Be the fun mom, but don’t lose control
- Be the cool wife, but carry all the emotional weight
- Be laid-back, but productive
- Be grateful, but not too honest
- Be everything—but make it look easy
Honestly? I’m tired.
When the Systems Fell Apart
Before the twins, I had a full system—and I don’t mean just a casual routine. I mean color-coded calendar, dinner-planned-for-the-week, hair-curled-by-sunrise level of structure.
Wake up at 5am.
Full glam. Hair curled.
School drop-off.
Work a full day.
Hop on the Peloton or treadmill at 5 pm.
Then straight into making dinner—because yes, I cooked every night. And not just winging it—I had already planned out the entire week of meals.
We’d eat by 7, do homework, power through bedtime routines, and I’d somehow still feel like I had a grip on everything.
It wasn’t just about control—it gave me peace. I felt capable. Grounded. Like I knew what I was doing.
Then the twins came, and the entire system… vanished.
There was no more flow.
No more predictable rhythm.
No more uninterrupted hours—or even 15 minutes without someone needing something.
I started living in fragments—tiny windows of time where I could maybe breathe, maybe eat, maybe answer a text before someone spilled milk or needed a wipe.
At first, I thought I was failing.
But I wasn’t failing—I was in transition.
Because no one really talks about what it’s like to go from Type A to whatever keeps the wheels on—while still desperately wanting to plan out every flailing minute of the day.
That’s where Simple(ish) Living really began.
Not as a business. Not as a cute checklist brand.
As a lifeline.
Love Helped Me See the Rest
Being in a safe, healthy marriage has taught me so much—especially how much I was still following the “rules” I never agreed to.
Even now, I catch myself:
- Apologizing for needing help
- Downplaying how burned out I feel
- Avoiding honest conversations because I don’t want to be “too much”
But healthy love? It can handle the full version of you—not just the polite one.
Letting go of the rules hasn’t been loud or dramatic.
It’s been quiet. Ongoing.
Kind of like untangling a necklace you didn’t realize was knotted.
But what’s on the other side is better than performed ease.
It’s peace that’s earned through honesty.
So… What Rules Are We Letting Go Of?
This post kicks off a new series here on the blog:
The Rules We’re Breaking
It’s about opting out of the pressure to be chill, low-maintenance, perfect, or perpetually grateful—and choosing something softer instead.
To start, I made a free printable that’s basically a note-to-self (and to you) about what we don’t need to carry anymore:
📥 Free Download: 10 Invisible Rules to Stop Following (And What to Do Instead)
This is the list I wish I had when I thought I was the problem.
You can grab it here → [Download Now]
Print it. Tape it to your mirror. Screenshot it for those days when your brain says you’re not doing enough.
Final Thoughts (Not a Pep Talk)
This isn’t about quitting.
It’s about choosing effort that actually serves you.
The kind that makes space for rest, for honesty, for the version of you that doesn’t need to pretend everything’s fine.
Whether you’re a spreadsheet-loving Type A, a snack-stashing Type B, or somewhere in the messy middle—there’s room here for you.
Because Simple(ish) Living doesn’t require perfection.
Just honesty.
And maybe a little more grace than you’re used to giving yourself.
✅ This post is part of my series on letting go of the rules we were never meant to follow.
Grab the full freebie here → [Download Now]
Simple(ish) Living Co. 
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