By Abigail Shaw
I’ve had those days—the ones where I stare at my to-do list like it’s written in a foreign language. The coffee isn’t kicking in. The house is quiet, but my brain feels anything but calm. I want to get things done, but the motivation just isn’t there. And when I finally do something, even that feels like too much. Sound familiar?
A while ago, I stumbled across the concept of a “dopamine menu.” The idea made sense immediately. It’s basically a curated list of things that bring you joy, calm, or energy—small actions that help nudge your brain into doing the next thing. I liked the metaphor: a menu for your mood, your energy, your motivation. A little emotional room service.
So, I made one.
Not on a fancy app or color-coded spreadsheet. Just a page in my journal, scribbled during one of those afternoons where I felt low-key stuck. I grouped the things I love into rough categories—quick things, bigger things, and a few guilty pleasures that I decided to stop feeling guilty about. And here’s what happened: It worked.
I didn’t become wildly productive or start waking up with superhero energy. But on days when I felt that heavy sense of “blah,” I didn’t have to think so hard. I’d glance at my list and pick something that felt doable. And slowly—ten minutes at a time—my energy returned. Not always fast, but reliably. Here’s what I’ve learned since creating that first dopamine menu, and why I think it’s worth making one for yourself.
Why a Dopamine Menu Works
Dopamine is often called the brain’s “reward” chemical, but it’s more nuanced than that. It helps regulate things like motivation, attention, and movement. When you anticipate or experience something pleasant—hearing a favorite song, seeing a loved one’s face, even finishing a puzzle—your brain releases dopamine as a kind of “Yes, more of that, please.”
It turns out, many of the things we have to do every day (answering emails, folding laundry, paying bills) don’t generate much dopamine at all. And when we’re tired or stressed or mentally foggy, our brains need even more coaxing to get into gear.
The beauty of a dopamine menu is that it gives you a small hit of pleasure or satisfaction first—or lets you pair it with something more mundane. It’s like warming up your brain before a workout.
How I Built Mine
My first version had four sections: Quick Hits, Every Day Joys, Paired Pleasures, and Treats. That’s what worked for me. You can call your categories whatever you want.
My Quick Hits list includes things like:
- Stepping outside barefoot for a few deep breaths
- Putting on a song that makes me nostalgic
- Sending a funny meme to a friend
They’re easy, almost effort-free, and they remind me what feeling good feels like.
Every Day Joys are the things I love but sometimes forget about:
- Watering my plants and checking on their new growth
- Journaling for ten minutes with no filter
- Making a fancy version of my afternoon tea (complete with lemon or honey or a cute cup)
Paired Pleasures are things I use to make boring tasks less boring:
- Listening to a podcast while folding towels
- Burning a favorite candle while answering emails
- Watching the birds out the window while doing leg stretches
Treats are exactly what they sound like. A square of dark chocolate. Rewatching a favorite movie scene. A long bath with good music. Things I used to label as “unproductive,” but now see as valuable tools. Once I had it all down, I taped it to the inside of my planner. It’s not always beautiful, but it’s mine—and when I need it, I don’t have to overthink. I just pick something.
It’s Not Just for Lazy Days
Some days, I’m already in a groove. I don’t need a dopamine jumpstart. But the menu still helps me maintain balance. I’ll choose something from it when I feel my mood dipping, when I hit a wall mid-afternoon, or even as a way to reward myself for finishing a tough project.
What surprised me most is how this approach softened the way I talk to myself. Instead of “What is wrong with me?” I ask, “What would help right now?” That shift alone is worth a lot. And it’s flexible. As the seasons change, so does my list. In the fall, I add things like baking or switching out the porch cushions. In summer, I might put “early morning walk before it gets hot” or “ice water in a pretty glass.”
This Is Not About Toxic Positivity
Let me be clear: a dopamine menu isn’t a magic cure. If you’re dealing with grief, burnout, depression, or deep fatigue, no list will fix that. And there are days when the best I can do is one small thing—and that’s okay. This tool isn’t about being endlessly happy or squeezing productivity out of every moment. It’s about offering your brain a lifeline when it feels stuck. It’s permission to say, “I can’t do everything, but I can do something.” It’s a nudge toward the light.
Where to Start
Don’t overthink it. Grab a piece of paper, and write down 10 things that make you feel:
- Peaceful
- Energized
- Cheerful
- Clear-headed
- Capable
Then sort them into categories that feel right to you. Make a pretty version if that’s your style, or keep it scrappy and real. Post it somewhere you’ll see it. You don’t have to use it every day. You don’t have to “earn” the items on it. Just give yourself the option. That alone helps rewire the belief that you’re stuck. And if it starts feeling stale? Rewrite it. Refresh it every month. I often do a new version when I notice I’m stuck in a scroll‑and‑snack spiral that isn’t really making me feel better.
A Dopamine Menu for Real Life
Here’s a peek at some of the items that have lived on mine lately, in case you want ideas:
- A walk to the end of the block with my camera, just to see what’s blooming
- Three yoga poses I know by heart
- Sending an old photo to a sibling
- Coloring in a tiny corner of an adult coloring book
- Reading a few pages of a favorite memoir
- Lighting a lemon candle while working
- Watering the plants with music playing
- Dancing around the kitchen (no witnesses allowed)
Some days, I do one. Some days, I forget. But the menu is always there—waiting quietly, like a friendly nudge. Start small. Pick one thing. Let it shift the next few minutes. Sometimes, that’s all you need to begin again.