The End of Optimization as a Life Strategy

Redefining my relationship with technology in this next decade.

I turned 30 last month! Entering a new decade has a way of inviting both reflection and intention.

I loved my 20s.

They were adventurous, energetic, and electrically ambitious. I entered the workforce during peak girl boss culture, when hustle was aspirational with admirable women such as Sophia Amoruso, Shonda Rhimes, and Elaine Welteroth. I absorbed the message quickly: if I wanted to grow, I had to move faster, do more, and optimize everything.

My life reflected that mindset. I ran a marathon. I worked full-time while completing a master’s degree. I became a digital nomad, hopping between Airbnbs every few weeks. I tracked everything online: my runs, my sleep, my habits, my productivity. My world was mediated through apps. Want to see my friends? There’s an app. Want a date? There’s an app. Looking for the cheapest flight? There’s an app.

Technology structured my life and I loved it.

But when I think about the moments that brought me the most fulfillment over the last decade, they weren’t digital milestones or optimized streaks. They didn’t come from dashboards, posts or metrics.

Joy happened offline.

I felt deeply connected to my body lying on the grass by the Charles River in Boston after I ran 16 miles for the first time. I felt incredible peace the first time I camped alone in the Umpqua National Forest in Oregon, zipped into a tent under some of the tallest trees I’ve ever seen. I felt joy watching my puppy chase snowballs as they rolled down a mountain trail, fully absorbed in the moment.

Those moments didn’t ask me to be better. They just asked me to be there.

So as I step into my 30s, I’m choosing something different. Less optimization. More presence. Less future-proofing. More joy, right now.

My 20s taught me how to endure discomfort for long-term gain. My 30s will teach me that joy doesn’t need to be postponed, optimized, or captured to be legitimate. It doesn’t need to feed an algorithm or justify itself through productivity. Joy can live in small, physical moments that resist quantification: a really good cup of coffee, mountain air filling my lungs on a hike, cuddling my partner and my dog while watching Seinfeld.

This shift has made me look more closely at my relationship with technology, data, and AI, not from a place of rejection, but from one of discernment. These are the habits I’m grounding myself in to build a healthier relationship with technology.

1. I will interrupt the autopilot.
I’ve started paying attention to how reflexive my tech habits are. I open Google Maps even when I know exactly where I’m going. I don’t even look at it; it just runs in the background. I pick up my phone, unlock it, scroll through my apps for some reason, then put it back down without knowing why. There’s a subconscious pressure to check, respond, and consume. Less of that in my 30s. I use technology with intention and purpose.

2. I am connected to my body.
Technology has a way of pulling me out of my body and into a half-conscious state. I open my phone and an hour goes by doomscrolling. I look at my Garmin watch to validate how I sleep, rather than listening to my body. From now on, I want to pay attention to my signals first, rather than blindly following the tech.

3. I am data conscious.
As more of my life becomes digitized, I pay closer attention to what data I give away and what data I consume. From loyalty programs to location tracking to personalized pricing, participation is often framed as convenience, but it comes with tradeoffs. Moving forward, I want to be more intentional about when I opt in, who benefits from my data, and how it’s being used. Not everything needs access to me.

I want this next decade to be defined by grounded presence in my physical life. Technology may assist, but it will no longer lead. I will.