You can rattle off everyone else’s favorites, can’t you?
Your kid’s favorite dinosaur. Your husband’s coffee order, down to the pump count. Your best friend’s comfort movie she’s seen forty times.
But if I stopped you right now and said — okay, your turn, name yours — would you stall out?
If your brain just went a little blank, or you started answering with what you’re supposed to like, stay with me. Because today we’re making the fastest, most joyful map back to yourself I know. And it starts with a question most of us haven’t been asked since we were about six years old: what do you love?
A few years ago, when I finally gave myself a sabbatical — a reclamation, really — I sat down and tried to write myself back into existence.
A whole notebook of it.
Vision statement, mantra, core values, my credo, my personal commandments. The works. And of everything I wrote that month, there is one list I go back to more than any other.
Not the lofty vision statement. Not the credo.
My list of favorite things.
Here’s why that silly little page is secretly the most powerful one in the notebook:
you can’t reclaim a self you never bothered to notice.
And nothing reintroduces you to YOU faster than what delights you.
Your joys aren’t fluff. They’re breadcrumbs — the glittering fingerprints of the woman you actually are, the ones no amount of shoulds ever fully erased.
If you’ve been feeling a little lost lately — foggy about who you even are after years of taking care of everyone else — this is the gentlest way back I know.
Not a personality overhaul.
A handshake.
You, finally sitting down across from the woman you’ve been far too busy to know.
Rebel Practice Circle:
So here’s the tool. It’s the good kind — the kind you can do on the back of a receipt with a kid’s marker.
I call it your Favorite Things List, and it’s three little moves.
Move one — Then. Write down what little-you loved. Not what was impressive. What made her light up — the treat, the show, the game, the feeling.
Move two — Now. What lights grown-you up today? And get specific. Not “reading” — the exact book corner, the particular tea, the cozy chair, the soft blanket. Not “nature” — the one bird whose song stops you in the driveway, the crunch under your shoes on the trail.
Move three — the Through-Line. Circle the ones that show up in both columns — or the ones that never fully left, even after you stopped making time for them.
Those are your factory settings.
Your sacred fingerprints.
That’s her.
Let me show you a few of mine, present-day, so you can see how specific we’re getting.
Dancing in the kitchen.
Bougainvillea pink — a color my young self would have lost her mind over, and I came all the way back around to it once I moved to Phoenix.
Birdsong. Pausing wherever I am to listen and smile.
Being unreasonably delighted by deer, daisies, sunflowers.
Boat rides on the lake, especially at sunset.
Long warm baths and hot showers.
Quaint little bridges — I don’t know why, they just get me.
Collecting inspiring quotes the way some people collect shells.
Sun rays peeking behind the clouds — I call them glimpses of heaven.
And making my husband laugh by being just a little too excited about something.
That last one might be my favorite favorite thing.
Now here’s where this goes from cute to holy:
what lights you up is YOUR LIGHT.
We treat delight like a break from the real stuff.
It’s not.
Your joys point straight at your gifts — the specific way you were made to shine.
So when you reclaim what you love, you aren’t being self-indulgent.
You’re reclaiming your joy.
Your joy is never a distraction from your purpose.
Some days it’s the most honest prayer you’ve got.
Your pinkie-toe step:
Don’t reclaim your whole self by Friday. Just start the list.
Five things — childhood or now, doesn’t matter.
Then reclaim one this week. Wear the color. Twirl in the kitchen. Buy the good chocolate and eat it slowly, for no reason except that you love it.
You don’t need anyone’s permission — but if you want it, you have it.
Rachel said so.
Want to dive deeper?
FREE REBEL JOY PLAY DECK: Because grown women need to play, too. Am I right?
Want to practice this with me? The Rebel Path — start with a single Rebel Hour or the 12-week Rebel Practice mentorship.
Subscribe to Goodbye, Good Girl: The weekly essays, free in your inbox. If a Joy Nugget, Rebel Practice tool, journal prompt, or particular line ever hits home, just hit reply — I’d seriously love to hear from you.
Join the Rebel Practice Circle: The free essays name the Good-Girl Ghost pattern — The Rebel Practice Circle is where we practice our way out of it, together: a monthly live call plus workbook pages you keep, the monthly Joy Engine, and a members-only chat. It’s $9/month or $80/year.
No pressure — we’re all works in progress. The goal is imperfection, and the win is showing up and choosing YOU!
Welcome to the Rebellion. We’ve saved you a seat.
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