15 coloring pages are waiting for you at the bottom of the post.
It started when my screen time hit 7 hours
It started when I saw that my screen time was seven hours.
Seven. Hours.
I was really shocked for a second. Then I started to remember — yes, TikTok in the morning, then messaging, then I glanced at something during my break, then just in the background… and there it was, seven.
And it wasn’t the first time. It’s just that on that day, it really hit me. I felt like I hadn’t done anything at all. I didn’t even remember what I was looking at. Just a feeling of a foggy head and like my day had been stolen from me.
Of course, I didn’t immediately go and change anything. At first, I just blamed myself and stared sadly at the ceiling. Then I accidentally stumbled upon some pencils. Old ones, from a box I hadn’t opened in a hundred years. I opened a notebook and just started coloring. Kind of pointlessly.
After twenty minutes, I realized that my head was quiet. Not completely, but at least there was a little less noise.
And it was the most pleasant pause I’d had in many days.
Just color, paper, and me. No tape, no other people’s voices.
Coloring felt weird. Like, kindergarten weird
I don’t know why I picked up this coloring book. At some point, I just realized that the screen was making me feel physically ill. Nothing specific hurts, but I feel kind of blurry. My head is buzzing, my body is sluggish, and my mood is zero. And it would be fine if I were doing something important. But I was just flipping through it. Flipping. Flipping.
And now I’m sitting in the kitchen, a cup of cold coffee in front of me, a coloring book on my lap, a pencil in my hand, and I’m thinking — this is stupid. I’m twenty-five years old and I’m coloring flowers. And I’m bad at it.
But after ten minutes, I suddenly realized that I wasn’t thinking about anything. My head was quiet. No comparisons, no other people’s stories, no “you didn’t do anything again today.” Just color and the movement of my hand.
It’s not magic. It’s not a recipe for salvation.
But honestly, I felt alive. Not distracted, not preoccupied with someone else — just myself.
And I wanted to stay there longer. At least for a couple more pages.
But my brain… it actually shut up for once
I’m not kidding. It’s usually always noisy there. Not like shouting, but just background noise like “you forgot this,” “you need to reply,” “everyone else has already done it,” “what are you doing with your life anyway,” and all that stuff. Even when I’m just sitting there, it’s still noisy.
And here I am coloring some nonsense, really, just some squiggles, and I catch myself not thinking. At all. I just move my hand, stupidly choose blue or green, and that’s it.
I don’t plan, I don’t replay conversations, I don’t stir up anxiety.
I just do it.
And it was so strange that I stopped. It was as if the radio had been turned off in the room and I could hear the kettle boiling. Not in my head, but in the room.
A real, actual sound.
The real me.
I’m not saying that I’m going to color every day now and become a new version of myself.
But, to be honest, I didn’t know how much I needed just a little quiet.
Even for a couple of minutes. Without anything else.
No one was watching. And that changed everything
I didn’t realize it right away. I just sat down at the table, put down my notebook and pencils. My phone was lying somewhere on the bed, the sound turned off. No one was texting, calling, or waiting for stories. And at some point it dawned on me — no one was watching me right now.
And suddenly I started breathing differently.
Not because of meditation or some technique. Just because I didn’t have to look a certain way, or seem busy, or do something “useful.” I could just sit there. Do what I wanted. And that was it.
This feeling — that no one was waiting for a report, a reaction, a result — turned out to be very strange.
At first, it was even uncomfortable.
But then suddenly it became calm.
I don’t know how much time passed. But when I got up, I felt that it was real.
A moment in which there is no “how I look.”
There is only “how I feel.”
And that is probably what I have been missing for a long time.
Just being, without observers.
I didn’t realize how restless I’d become
I didn’t notice how restless I had become. Not in the sense of being “nervous,” but rather constantly drawn to something else. I pick up my phone, and a minute later I’m checking my email, then my notes, then for some reason the weather, even though I’m at home. I watch a movie, pause it, and scroll through my phone.
I’m cooking — I turn on a podcast, then I get distracted by a phone call, then I can’t stand the silence again, so I turn on music. Constant background noise. Constant movement.
And it became the norm.
I really thought that everyone was like that and that I just lacked concentration.
And then I just sat down, without anything. Well, not completely without anything — I had a coloring book, but without sound, without a screen.
And that’s when I freaked out.
My body really didn’t know how to sit still. I started scratching my neck, then fiddling with my sleeve, then reaching for my phone, then wondering if I had forgotten something.
It was as if everything inside me was shaking, and if I didn’t distract myself, I would melt.
And that’s when I realized how tired I was of being on the move. Even when I’m supposed to be resting.
This wasn’t “healing” — it was just quiet
I didn’t feel anything magical. There were no tears, no revelations, no energy filling my body.
I just sat there and colored.
And the room was quiet.
And so was my head. Not completely, but it was as if everything had become a little quieter.
And I suddenly realized how long it had been since I had felt this way — when I didn’t have to make any decisions, rush anywhere, finish anything, or catch up on anything.
I didn’t have to be “on call.”
I didn’t have to be “connected.”
I didn’t have to be anything at all.
I didn’t feel healed. I felt normal. Just normal. And it was so strange that at first I didn’t even understand why I felt calm.
Then I understood.
No one was asking for anything.
I didn’t owe anything.
And I could just sit there. And that was enough.
If that’s what “chilling” is, then so be it.
But to be honest, I just liked that it was quiet. No meaning, no purpose.
Just silence. Even if only for half an hour.
I’m not saying it fixed me. But I keep doing it
Not every day. Not as a ritual. Not on a schedule. Just sometimes, when everything inside starts to itch, as if you’re not yourself — I take out my pencils. Or pens. Or I just start coloring something in the margins. Sometimes it’s not coloring at all, but some random patterns that I draw in circles until I feel better.
It doesn’t make me super calm. I don’t become a different person. I still worry, I still zone out, I still stare at my phone, I still argue with myself, I still get tired. Everything is as usual.
But it’s in those moments, when I start coloring again, that I feel like I’m coming back. Back to myself, back to my body, back to silence.
And it doesn’t “help.” It just becomes the norm.
Like something very simple that you can always rely on.
I don’t know why it worked. And I’m not sure it works at all.
But honestly, I don’t care.
I just keep going. Because it made me feel a little better. And sometimes that’s all you need.
Download 15 Free Coloring Pages
If you suddenly feel like just sitting in silence and coloring something meaningless, I’ve left 15 coloring pages here. Free of charge. Just in case. It might come in handy.
