Quick note before we start: I’m Kayla. I test stuff on myself, like a lab rat with feelings. This time I tried Monk Mode. Not the robe. The focus method. I treated it like a product and ran it for 30 days. I kept receipts. Some parts rocked. Some parts bit back. If you want to see how someone else fared with a nearly identical setup, check out this candid rundown of what actually happened during another 30-day Monk Mode experiment.

What I mean by “Monk Mode”

It’s a set of rules that cut noise so you can do one big thing. Think a sprint, but for your life. Fewer choices. Fewer pings. More work done. Plain and simple. (Some people frame it as the ultimate context-switch killer; the World Economic Forum even calls it a “productivity hack for remote workers.”)

I had one goal: finish a draft for a course and clean my messy work backlog. Not cute. Very real.

My Rules (the version I used)

I wrote these on a giant Post-it and stuck it to my fridge.

• Work blocks: 50 minutes on, 10 off. Four blocks before 2 p.m.
• No social media, news, or random YouTube from 6 a.m. to 8 p.m.
• Phone in another room during blocks. Watch stays on silent.
• Gym or a 30-minute walk, every day, no deals.
• Sleep by 10 p.m., lights out. No blue light after 9:30.
• Simple food: cook at home on weekdays. No booze. No sugar before dinner.
• One line journal at night: Wins, misses, mood.
• One “lifeline”: Fridays I can see one friend, early.

Too strict? Maybe. But rules that are soft get bent. I know me. Another creator used a similar playbook and shared what worked, what broke, and what stuck during her own 30-day run.

The Tools I Actually Used

• Forest app for focus blocks. The little tree dying made me feel bad. It worked.
• Freedom app to block sites. Yes, I locked myself out.
• Notion for my plan and daily log. One page. No rabbit holes.
• Time Timer on my desk. Big red pie showing time left. No thinking.
• Sony WH-1000XM4 headphones. Brown noise on loop. Rain when I felt moody.
• Streaks app for habits. I liked seeing the chain grow.
• Apple Health sleep data. I checked it each Sunday.
• YETI water bottle. Cold water stopped snack raids.
• Post-it Super Sticky wall calendar. I crossed off days with a fat marker.

I used them every day. Not all were “musts,” but together they helped.

Later in the month I also discovered Monkify, a slick all-in-one dashboard for habit tracking that would have shaved hours off my setup if I’d found it sooner. For a 30-day test carried out with almost zero tech, this piece on going Monk Mode “for real” is a fun compare-and-contrast.

A Real Day, Mess and All

• 6:30 a.m. Wake. Two-minute cold rinse. Not heroic, just cold.
• 7:00 Coffee, black. Three lines in Notion: today’s target, one fear, one yes.
• 7:30 First 50-minute block. Forest on. Phone in the hall.
• 8:30 Second block. Short walk in the yard between.
• 9:30 Eggs, rice, and kimchi. I’m a creature of habit.
• 10:00 Third block. Draft slides. No fonts hunt. No vibes. Just do.
• 11:00 Fourth block. Inbox sweep with a hard 25-minute cap.
• 12:00 Quick lift session (5×5) or a 20-minute jog. Shower. Snack.
• 1:00 Two lighter blocks. Admin, reviews, edits.
• 3:00 Walk the dog. She’s the real boss.
• 4:00 Prep dinner. Chop once, use twice. Future me says thanks.
• 7:30 Read on my Kindle. Paperwhite is gentle on my eyes.
• 9:30 Phone away. Blue light off. Stretch.
• 10:00 Bed. Not exciting. Very helpful.

Did I hit this perfect every day? No. But this was the spine. If you’re curious how the routine evolves past the first month, here’s a field report from a 45-day stretch and what actually stuck for that tester.

Real Wins (numbers talk)

• Words written: 24,300 in 30 days. My usual month is 9–12k.
• Inbox: from 1,278 emails to zero twice a week. I’m not kidding.
• Money saved: about $310 by cooking weekdays.
• Weight: down 6.2 pounds. Not the main goal, just a side win.
• Sleep: from 6.2 hours to 7.5 hours average, per Apple Health.
• Meetings: cut 5 standing chats. No one missed them.

You know what? The extra silence made me less moody. That surprised me. (Even Forbes points out that short stints of “monk mode” can translate into outsized productivity gains.)

The Hard Parts (and the weird ones)

• Social stuff tanked fast. Two friends got a little salty. I sent a “Monk Mode memo” late. My bad.
• Day 4 was rough. Sugar cravings hit like a truck. I ate three dates and felt guilty. Then I got over it.
• Week 2 made me cocky. I tried to add more rules. That backfired. Keep your rules tight and few.
• Sunday blues. Without scrolling, I felt bored. I cleaned a drawer. Then two. Then I was fine.
• Tiny headaches from less coffee. Faded by Day 5.

One more confession: reading someone else’s misfires helped me feel less alone—this “I tried Monk Mode so you don’t have to” post pulls no punches.

What actually made it work

• Morning blocks are gold. After lunch, focus drops. I protected my mornings like a guard dog.
• Phone in another room. Not face down. Away. It matters.
• One tool per job. Timer for time. Notion for plan. No mixing.
• Food ready by noon. Hungry me makes bad calls.
• Put the rules where you can see them. The fridge note saved me more than once.
• A Friday lifeline kept me human.

Mini Case: Work Sprint vs. Home Life

I ran a product sprint at work that month. I planned tasks in a simple backlog: Must, Should, Nice. Each day I pulled one Must and one Should. That’s it. No extras. Scope creep died fast when it hit a rule.

At home, I kept one chore per day: laundry Monday, floors Thursday, the fun stuff Sunday. Not perfect, but it kept peace. That mirrors the home-life tweaks outlined in this blow-by-blow 30-day Monk Mode challenge recap.

What I’d change next time

• Add one social block midweek. A 30-minute call. People matter.
• Keep one “free scroll” hour on Saturday morning. Let the brain play.
• Stretch the rule set to 6 weeks but add a true rest day. Even monks rest.

If you need a fully fleshed-out rulebook to borrow, this journal of rules, slip-ups, and real results from another 30-day run is worth a peek.

Who should try it

• You’ve got a real target. A book draft. A launch. A job search.
• Your brain is loud. Too many tabs open, even in your head.
• You can say no for a month without losing your job or your mind.

Who should skip or tweak it:

• New parents. You’re already in a mode.
• Heavy client work with live support. You need to be reachable.
• If food rules trigger you. Choose gentler rules.

If your downtime revolves around dating apps—especially niche platforms where younger partners connect with generous benefactors—going full Monk Mode might feel like social (and financial) FOMO. Before you uninstall everything for a month, peek at this curated guide to the best sugar momma websites so you can pause

I’m Kayla. I review things for a living, but I also run a small client studio from my kitchen table. My phone buzzes all day. My brain felt like soda fizz. So I tried Monk Mode. I mean the rules Iman Gadzhi talks about. Tight. Simple. No fluff. If you want to see how another freelancer handled Iman Gadzhi’s exact blueprint, you can skim this 45-day play-by-play too.

Because I still have to drum up fresh leads while cutting my screen time, I’ve started parking my service ads on focused classified boards like OneBackPage—a free marketplace where freelancers can post offerings in minutes and land local gigs without wading through the algorithmic noise of mainstream social apps.
Freelancers in the Boston suburbs can narrow things even further: if you’re in Middlesex County, the listings on Backpage Woburn let you target potential clients right in your backyard, turning each post into a direct line to nearby buyers instead of a shout into the internet void.

Turns out, I’m not the only one curious; this focus practice has landed coverage in mainstream outlets—from a Forbes deep dive on achieving high productivity by going into Monk Mode to a World Economic Forum look at how Monk Mode can boost productivity.

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What “Monk Mode” Looked Like For Me

Iman says to pick clear rules and stick to them for a set time. I started with 45 days. I wanted 90, but I knew I’d quit. Honest.

My rules:

• 3 hours of deep work before noon (no email, no Slack, phone on Airplane Mode)
• 45 minutes of exercise, daily (walks count)
• 10 minutes of meditation
• No social media Monday to Friday
• One cup of coffee, before 10 a.m.
• No alcohol
• In bed by 10:30 p.m., lights out by 11

I tracked it all in a Notion page. I used the Forest app to block my phone. I also set Screen Time locks on Instagram and TikTok. The passcode? I gave it to my partner, Eli. Yes, I regretted that on day two.

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Week One: Shaky Hands, Quiet Wins

Day one felt weird. My thumb kept reaching for Instagram like it had a mind of its own. I kept missing that hit of quick news. My mind jumped around. But the timer kept ticking.

Real task I did: I built a landing page in Webflow for a skin-care client. Before, that takes me two days with stops and starts. This time, two sprints. Ninety minutes each. Done by 11:30 a.m. Draft sent. Client shocked. I was shocked too.

By day five, the morning had a beat. Wake up at 6:30. One coffee. 10-minute meditation with Headspace. Headphones on. Brown noise on Spotify. Then deep work. It felt like clearing a field. Slow at first. Then smooth.

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Real Life Tests (Because Life Happens)

• My friend Mia had a birthday. Big cake. Loud music. I stuck to sparkling water. I ate dinner, but skipped the cake. I’m not a hero. I did take a bite. One bite. I wrote it in my tracker and moved on. No spiral.
• My mom called during deep work. She never calls early, so I picked up. It broke the flow. I felt twitchy. Later I made a rule: calls go on the calendar unless it’s Mom or an emergency. That helped.
• I had a launch week. A client needed last-minute changes at 9 p.m. I broke my “lights out by 11” rule once. I didn’t love that. But I forgave myself. The next day, I took a longer walk and got back on track.

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What Changed After 45 Days

Some numbers and notes, plain and simple:

• Screen time dropped 49% (from 4h 12m to about 2h 8m a day)
• I finished two client projects early and booked an extra $3,200 in work
• I read two books (Atomic Habits and Essentialism) instead of scrolling at night
• I slept better—fewer wake-ups, fewer 2 a.m. brain storms
• I lost 6 pounds without trying hard—just more steps and less late snacks

Curious how the numbers shift on a shorter timeline? Here’s a very honest 30-day Monk Mode report—with rules, slip-ups, and real results.

The biggest change? My mornings felt quiet. Strong, even. I didn’t feel that rushed, sticky panic. My head had room.

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What I Liked (A Lot)

• Clear rules stop debate. No “Should I?” Just “Yes or no.”
• The morning deep work was gold. I knocked out client decks faster and cleaner.
• No alcohol kept my sleep steady. My skin cleared up too, which was a nice surprise.
• One coffee made me less jittery. I still love coffee. I just love feeling calm more.

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What I Didn’t Like (And How I Fixed It)

• It felt strict. Rigid, even. I added one flexible rule: if I break a rule, I log it and return at the next block. No all-or-nothing drama.
• Social life took a hit. So I set “off-duty windows” on Saturday. I could hang with friends, post pics, and not feel guilty.
• Creativity dipped on week three. My brain felt flat. I added a 20-minute “wander block” once a day. No phone. Just a walk. Ideas came back.

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Tools That Actually Helped

• Notion: one simple habit tracker with green check marks
• Forest: grows trees while I focus; I’m weirdly proud of my little forest
• Screen Time: Eli holds the passcode, so I can’t cheat
• Google Calendar: I time-boxed deep work and walks
• A cheap kitchen timer: the loud tick kept me honest
• Spotify “Brown Noise” playlist: it’s boring in the best way

Lately I've folded all of that into Monkify, an app that bundles timers, habit tracking, and website blocking under one calm interface.

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A Few Real Tips From My Run

• Start with three rules. Add more later if you want. Too many rules will snap.
• Put your phone in another room for the first work block. It matters more than you think.
• Tell one person you trust. Ask them to check in on day seven. Not day one.
• Keep a “friction list.” Any small thing that slows you down—slow laptop, messy desk, noisy chair—fix one a day.
• Plan one fun thing each week. A movie. A long bath. A Sunday bagel. You’re not a robot.

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Who I Think This Is For

• Freelancers, students, or founders who need focused output, not busy noise
• People with slip-slide habits who want clear rails
• Anyone who wants mornings to feel calm and useful

And who it’s not for:

• Folks with unpredictable shifts or new babies—sleep rules may not fit
• People who need lots of social time to feel okay
• If you’re in a rough mental health patch, strict rules may add stress; go gentle

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My Verdict

I thought I’d hate the rules. I didn’t. Well, not all of them. Monk Mode, the way Iman frames it, gave me a simple frame. I still had slip-ups. I still got bored sometimes. But the wins showed up fast—more work done, less noise, better sleep.

Would I do it again? Yes. But with kindness this time. I’ll keep morning deep work, one coffee, and no social during the week. I’ll also keep my Saturday window and those long walks. Balance isn’t flashy, but it works. And if you just want the spoiler reel, this quick recap of another 30-day run lays it all out.

If you try it, pick your rules, write them down, and start on a random Tuesday. No big speech. Just start. Then let the quiet do its thing.

I kept hearing “monk mode” like it was magic. So I tried it. Not for a day. For a month. I took notes, I messed up, I learned. And yeah, I felt weirdly calm at the end. (For another candid 30-day dive, see this 30-day test.)

Turns out, there's solid evidence it's not just hype—Forbes outlines how to be highly productive by going into monk mode, which gave me extra push to commit.

So… what is monk mode, really?

Here’s my plain view: monk mode means you cut noise for a set time. You focus on a few rules. You protect your brain. You let the work breathe.

You don’t vanish from life. You just say no a bit more. You act like a monk, but with Wi-Fi and a calendar.

For an even clearer snapshot of what a modern monk-mode day can look like, the free templates on Monkify are gold.

The rules I used (and how it felt)

I wrote mine on a sticky note. I taped it to my laptop. Simple beats fancy.

• 3 hours of deep work, Monday–Friday (6–9 a.m.)
• No social media on weekdays (Sunday afternoon check-in only)
• Gym or walk, 45 minutes daily
• Bed by 10 p.m., phone on grayscale
• One “social window” each week (2 hours)
• Daily journal at breakfast (5 lines, not a novel)
• No alcohol; no sugar after 8 p.m.

(Curious how someone else tackled a strict set of guidelines? Peek at Iman Gadzhi’s monk mode rules in practice.)

Sounds harsh? It was, a little. But it was clear. Clear makes life easy.

Day 3: the twitch

On day 3, I reached for Instagram four times before 8 a.m. My thumb moved before my brain did. I laughed, then I winced. I opened the Forest app and planted a 50-minute tree. I also put my phone in the kitchen. Far away helps.

I wrote two pages for a course I’ve been stuck on. It wasn’t pretty. It was honest. Good enough.

Week 1 wins (and the not-so-fun parts)

• Screen time went from about 5 hours to 1.5 on weekdays.
• I answered 37 emails in one hour using the two-minute rule.
• I slept 45 minutes more, on average.
• My friend thought I was mad at her. I wasn’t. I sent a long Sunday text. We were fine.

That last bit matters. Monk mode can look cold from the outside. It’s not. But people don’t know unless you tell them.

If you’re curious about why this hyper-focused stretch can boost results so dramatically, a short piece from the World Economic Forum breaks down the science behind “monk mode” productivity.

A tiny detour: cake, family, and rules

My niece turned six. There was pink cake. I ate the cake. I wasn’t mad at myself. I reset the next morning. This was big for me. Old me would’ve quit the whole thing over one slice. New me said, “Cool, back to it.”

Week 2: real work, real quiet

I wrote 14 pages in Notion. I recorded three short videos in one afternoon. I sent a pitch I’d been dodging for two months. Rejection? No. They booked me.

The quiet felt strange at first. Then it felt kind. Like soft rain. Like your brain can finally hear itself think. (A friend of mine called it modern monk mode, and yeah, the feels are similar.)

Tools that actually helped

• A cheap kitchen timer on my desk. Loud tick, honest time.
• Freedom app to block social sites.
• Forest for focus sprints. Silly trees, serious help.
• Google Calendar for my 6–9 a.m. block, colored bright red.
• A paper notebook for the 5-line journal.
• My Kindle Paperwhite at night so I don’t “just scroll.”

I like fancy headphones, too. But tape and a timer did more than gear.

The hard stretch: Week 3 loneliness

Work was smooth. My mood dipped. The house felt too quiet. I missed dumb memes. I missed loud nights. I made tea. I went for a night walk. I cried one time. Not from sadness, exactly. From release.
Still, a micro-dose of social buzz can help you reset without derailing your focus streak. I discovered that a quick ten-minute hop into a chat-first dating space like SPDate lets you talk to real people on demand and then sign off fast—perfect when you need a splash of human connection but want to stay committed to your monk-mode rules.
Texans who’d rather keep things local could also check out a community classifieds platform in the Conroe area, such as Backpage Conroe, which lists no-strings meet-ups and events so you can plan a quick coffee or walk without blowing up your schedule.

Numbers that nudged me

• Money saved from less takeout and drinks: about $220 in a month
• Weight change: down 4 pounds without trying hard
• Deadlift went up by 20 pounds (small win, big grin)
• 5K time got faster by 2 minutes
• Inbox: 2,147 to zero by Friday. Yes, zero. I took screenshots. I felt like a wizard.

Culture check: it’s not new, it’s just loud now

It reminded me of Lent for my Catholic friends. Or the focus folks have during Ramadan. Or exam season study halls. It’s a simple fast. Less noise, more aim. We just gave it a catchy name.

Where it went wrong

All-or-nothing hit me on Saturday. I binged on chips and shows. My brain snapped. So I changed it. Week 4 was “Monk Mode Lite.”

• 80/20 rule: stick to it most days; give Sunday some slack
• One planned hangout, not five
• Phone time cap, not a total lock

It was kinder. And I still got work done. (If you want the full highs and lows, this 30-day deep dive pulls no punches.)

Who should try it (and who shouldn’t)

Great for:

• Students before exams
• Freelancers on a launch
• Busy folks who need one clear goal

Not great during:

• Wedding season
• New baby time
• Big family stress weeks

Still on the fence? I tried monk mode so you don’t have to breaks down the pros and cons in even more detail.

Life comes first. Always.

How to start without breaking your brain

• Pick one main goal. One. Not five.
• Choose three rules, not ten. Keep them visible.
• Set a start and end date. Two to four weeks is solid.
• Tell one person. Ask for grace.
• Set a small reward. A hike. A nice dinner. Fresh flowers.

Drink water. Eat real food. Sleep. Work is not war.

What surprised me most

I loved it. I also kinda hated it. The quiet can sting. But the calm sticks around. My mornings still feel wider. I write faster now. I reach for my phone less. Not never—but less.

My verdict

Monk mode is a season, not a lifestyle. Do it for 2–6 weeks. Then take a rest week. Repeat when you need a reset. Don’t use it to hide. Use it to protect the work that matters.

Would I do it again? Yes. I already set my next round: two weeks in January, right after the holiday fog. Sticky note’s ready.

If you try it, be kind. Be clear. And when you eat the cake, smile, then get to bed on time. That counts too.

I hit a wall in January. My screen time was ugly. My focus felt thin, like stale gum. So I opened Reddit, typed “monk mode,” and jumped in.

You know what? It wasn’t perfect. But it worked better than I thought.
Part of the nudge came from reading another candid recap—this 30-day attempt at Monk Mode with Reddit—which made the whole experiment feel possible. Shortly after, I landed on a Forbes piece that broke down how going into Monk Mode can supercharge productivity, and it convinced me the idea wasn't just Reddit hype.

Quick backstory (because context matters)

I work from home, doing content and light design for small brands. Slack pings a lot. The fridge is loud. My cat sleeps on my keyboard. You get it.

I kept seeing posts on r/monkmode. People were quitting junk habits and reporting wins. Some of it felt loud and macho. But the check-in threads? Simple. Real. That’s what hooked me. Even the World Economic Forum has weighed in, arguing that a stint of “monk mode” can measurably boost productivity.
Around the same time I stumbled on someone who went Monk Mode for 30 days and spelled out what actually happened, so the idea was already simmering.

How I used Reddit with monk mode

I followed the weekly check-in posts. I set my rules. I posted updates two or three times a week. Nothing fancy. No long essays. Just tiny reports and a “thank you” to anyone who replied.

Here were my rules for 30 days:

• No Instagram or TikTok. Reddit only for check-ins, 15 minutes.
• Work blocks: 90 minutes, twice a day.
• Gym or a 30-minute walk, 5 days a week.
• Read 10 pages at night.
• Bed by 11 p.m. (no phone in bed).
• One coffee before noon. No alcohol.

Tools I used:

• iPhone Focus for Work and Sleep
• Screen Time limits (Reddit: 15 minutes)
• Cold Turkey Blocker on my Mac, 9–1 and 2–5
• Forest app to stay off my phone
• Notion to track days and wins

I also tested a free dashboard called Monkify that bundles timers, streaks, and gentle nudges into one tidy screen, and it slotted neatly into the routine.

I know, it sounds strict. Here’s the twist: I allowed one “messy” day each week. That saved me.
If you need a blow-by-blow of what worked, flopped, and ultimately stuck, this detailed 30-day Monk Mode challenge log is worth a skim.

Week 1: The jitters

Day 4 was the worst. I wanted to watch YouTube at 10 p.m. My hands felt itchy. I opened Forest, planted a tree, and just stared at it. I read 11 pages of a book. It felt childish and also… nice.

I posted a short update on Reddit: “Day 4. Didn’t quit. Walked. Read. Cranky.” I got six kind replies. One person said, “Focus is a muscle, not a mood.” That line stuck.

Week 2: Social life, yikes

A friend had a birthday at a bar. I drank soda with lime. I felt weird at first. Then I laughed, danced, and left early. I woke up clear. I wrote a clean draft for a client by 9 a.m. That never happens on a Sunday.

That week, a Redditor shared a tiny trick: put your phone in a hardback book sleeve. Silly. But I tried it at night and stayed off my phone. My sleep got deeper.

One Redditor DM’d me about how I was handling dating while on a digital detox. I actually hit pause on the swipe-fest for the month, but I also bookmarked these free local sex apps that rank hookup platforms by cost, user base, and how quickly you can set up an in-person meet-up, so when the sprint ends you can jump back into a social life without losing hours to mindless scrolling.
For folks who live in Utah and want a more classifieds-style option, the revived local listings on Backpage Provo can connect you with nearby dates or casual meet-ups quickly without the hassle of building a full profile—perfect if you’re still limiting your app time but don’t want to miss local opportunities.

Week 3: Real wins

I built two pitch decks in one sitting. No fluff. I even sent one early. The client replied with a fast “yes.” Money came in quicker. Not huge money—still, that felt good. I tracked it in Notion with a green tag called “Monk Wins.” Little dorky, very helpful.

Also, my kitchen felt calmer. I prepped rice and chicken on Sunday. I salted it right. Simple food made me steady. Funny how that happens.

Week 4: I slipped, then reset

I broke the rules one night and scrolled for 45 minutes. Just sat there in the blue glow. I told the Reddit thread the next day. Someone said, “Start the block again, now.” So I did. Cold Turkey went back on. No drama. The slip didn’t cancel the streak. It taught me how to crawl back.
Moments like that reminded me of pieces such as “I tried Monk Mode so you don’t have to”, where the author owns their missteps and still keeps moving.

Real numbers from my 30 days

• Screen time: from 5h 40m/day to 2h 50m/day
• Words written for work: 16,200 (Notion count)
• Gym/walk days: 22/30
• Nights with 7+ hours sleep: 22
• Money saved from no drinks: about $120
• Reddit time: 15 minutes most days, sometimes less

These aren’t huge, but they were steady. The steady part changed me.

What I liked about the Reddit side

• Fast check-ins. No big plan needed.
• Simple templates. People would post “Day X: Kept rules 4/6. Struggled with Y.”
• Helpful nudges, not just hype.
• Memes on rough days. Laughed a little, then kept going.

What bugged me

• Some threads felt harsh or macho. Not my scene.
• A few posts pushed wild health claims. I skipped those.
• All-or-nothing talk pops up. I do better with “most days” talk.
• If you work nights or have kids, you’ll need to adjust. The 5 a.m. grind posts can feel off.

A day that sold me on it

Tuesday, week 3:

• 7:00 a.m. eggs and toast, cat head-butt to the face (strong start)
• 8:30–10:00 deep work block with Cold Turkey on
• 10:05 quick Reddit check-in, 2 comments back
• 12:10 gym, short lift, no hero stuff
• 2:00–3:30 second block; I finished a deck early
• 9:45 reading in bed; phone in book sleeve
• 10:30 lights out; kitchen quiet, brain quiet

It felt… clean. Not perfect. Clean.

Tips that actually helped me

• Pick three rules, not twelve.
• Add friction: book sleeve, app blocks, loud kitchen timer.
• Write tiny wins every night. “Walked even though it rained” counts.
• Keep one “messy” day. It protects your week.
• Use the weekly Reddit thread. Don’t scroll. Just post and bounce.

Who it’s for

• Students who want a reset
• Freelancers who juggle five tabs and a snack drawer
• Anyone who wants less noise and a steady plan

Who should skip or tweak it

• If strict rules make you spiral
• If your job needs constant social media
• If you’re in a rough mental spot and need real care first

My verdict

Monk mode with Reddit gave me structure and a soft push. It cut the fluff. It made me a little braver with boring tasks. I’ll use it in 2-week sprints now, not all year. For me, it’s an 8/10.
If you’re curious about the nitty-gritty—what I did, what broke, what stuck—this write-up of another 30-day Monk Mode stint lines up almost eer

I’m Kayla, and I actually did it. I tried monk mode. Twice, in fact. The first run was 30 days in January. The second was a shorter 14-day stretch in late May, right before a big deadline.
(For a separate deep-dive on the same question, peek at this honest, hands-on review that explores the core premise from a different angle.)

Did it work? You know what? Yes. But not the way I first thought.

Let me explain. For a broader industry take, Forbes outlines how adopting a “monk mode” mindset can supercharge output in demanding roles.

What I Mean by “Monk Mode”

It’s a short season with clear rules. You cut noise. You focus on one big thing. You make it boring on purpose so the work pops.

Here were my rules for 30 days:

• Phone on Do Not Disturb till 12 p.m. and set to grayscale
• No social media, no alcohol, no sugar on weekdays
• Two deep work blocks before 10 a.m. (I used 90 minutes, then 60 minutes)
• 10 minutes of meditation
• 10,000 steps
• Lights out by 10:30 p.m.

I wrote these on a sticky note and taped it to my fridge. I also used the Forest app and Freedom to block stuff that eats time.

Why I Tried It

I was behind on a client site build, and my jeans felt tight. My brain felt like a busy street—horns, sirens, random pop-ups. A fellow builder hit the same wall in their 30-day test for real and swears the silence is half the win. I wanted quiet. Also, I had a small speaking gig in March. I needed clean slides and a calm voice. That’s hard to fake.

Real Results From My 30 Days

I tracked numbers, because feelings can lie. Data keeps you honest.

• Client site: finished in 19 days (my plan said 30)
• Writing: 3 long blog posts, 2 drafts, 1 landing page rewrite
• Screen time: 5h 41m down to 2h 03m (iPhone weekly report)
• Weight: down 5.2 lbs (home scale, morning)
• Sleep: 6h 10m up to 7h 18m (Apple Watch)
• Resting heart rate: 67 down to 61 bpm
• Steps: hit 10k on 26 out of 30 days

The idea that structured focus periods measurably lift performance isn’t just anecdotal; a recent World Economic Forum overview details how “monk mode” practices can move the needle on productivity metrics.

Those stats echo the shifts logged in this 30-day “what actually happened” recap.

Was I a brand-new person? No. I was just a quieter one who could start and finish. That was enough.

What It Felt Like (The Good, The Weird, The Grumpy)

• Mornings got sweet. I’d wake at 5:45, grind coffee, and the apartment was hush. That rich smell? It helped. I’d do a 90-minute block before the sun slid up over the brick buildings by my window.
• My brain stopped buzzing around day 6. It was like someone turned down the static.
• But I also got snappy. On day 8, my partner asked me about dinner plans, and I snapped, “I can’t think about that.” Not my finest moment. That edge shows up in the writer’s full monk mode take too—turns out the grump is a feature, not a bug.
• Cravings hit at 9 p.m. That’s when I wanted cookies and reels. Day 5 was the worst for that.
• The lonely part was real. I skipped two Friday hangs. FOMO stung. I told friends the truth: “I’m doing a focus sprint. I’ll be back.” Most folks got it. For anyone who feels that same pinch of isolation but doesn’t want to blow up their whole schedule, a quick, low-stakes meet-up can scratch the social itch and then let you dive right back into deep work—SextLocal connects you with nearby people looking for the same lightweight, no-pressure hang, so you get a fast dose of human contact without derailing your monk-mode rhythm.

For readers who happen to be in southern Indiana and want an even more localized option for a short, commitment-free meetup, the modern classifieds scene offers targeted boards that make lining something up as easy as sending a text. A prime example is Backpage Seymour, where you’ll find constantly updated personal listings specific to the Seymour area—perfect for grabbing a quick coffee, walk, or low-key date and still getting back in time for your next deep-work block.

Three Real Days From My Notes

I keep a simple log. Nothing cute. Just facts.

• Day 3, 7:12 a.m.: Wrote 1,042 words for a case study. No edits yet. Ate eggs and toast. Puttered with a plant between blocks. Felt good.
• Day 11, 3:05 p.m.: Hit a wall. Took a 12-minute walk without my phone. Came back and finished the hero copy. Made it simple. Client said, “Finally reads like us.”
• Day 21, 9:48 p.m.: Wanted sugar bad. Chewed gum. Brushed teeth. Took a shower. That broke the loop. Small win. Slept by 10:25.

Tiny moves, big effect. Funny how that works. I noticed the same pattern when rereading someone else’s “what I did, what broke, what stuck” journal—small course corrections pay back huge.

What Didn’t Work (And How I Fixed It)

• Too many rules made me stiff. I felt trapped by my own list. So in week 2, I gave myself a 20-minute “social snack” on Saturdays. It stopped the rebound binge on Sunday.
• The second deep work block after lunch kept sliding. I moved it to 8:15 a.m. and 9:55 a.m. back-to-back, then did admin after. That flow stuck.
• I kept ruminating at night. So I made a “parking lot” note on paper at 8:30 p.m. I’d write the stubborn thought down, then tell myself, “Future me can carry this.” Sleep came easier.

If you stretch the sprint longer, this 45-day experiment shows why rule fatigue creeps in and how to dodge it.

The 14-Day Version (May)

This round was lighter. Rules:

• One deep block before 9:30 a.m.
• No phone till 11
• Walk after lunch
• One “yes” to friends per week

Results? I finished my slides by day 9, rehearsed twice, and didn’t feel like a robot. I even ate tacos with friends on Friday. The sauce was messy and perfect.

So, shorter can work. You don’t have to go full monk to feel the lift. For the flip side, see how things morph in a 90-day marathon where momentum—not novelty—keeps you honest.

Who Should Try It (And Who Should Skip)

Try it if:

• You have one big piece of work that needs clean focus
• Your phone keeps stealing your mornings
• You want a reset on sleep and sugar

Skip or soften if:

• You’re caring for a baby or a sick parent
• Your job is all meetings and live chat
• Strict rules trigger guilt or spirals

You can still do a gentle version. One morning block. One phone rule. That still counts. One writer even did a kinder “I-tried-it-so-you-don’t-have-to” spin—read it here—and still found surprising wins.

Tips That Saved Me

• Pick start and end dates. Make it a season, not forever.
• Choose one anchor rule. Mine was “two blocks before 10.”
• Keep one social outlet. A walk with a friend helped a ton.
• Make it visible. Fridge note, whiteboard, whatever.
• Track three numbers only. I used screen time, sleep, and steps.

For a ready-made template and quick-start

I gave “monk mode” a real spin for 30 days. No fluff. No half-try. I went all in during October, right before NaNoWriMo. Hoodie weather. Dark mornings. The kind that beg for quiet.
As a reminder, monk mode is a productivity strategy that involves intense periods of uninterrupted focus, stripping away distractions so you can work with sharper efficiency and mental clarity.

Short answer? Yes—mostly. But it’s not magic. It worked for me when I treated it like a season, not a forever thing.

If you’re still on the fence, the crew at Monkify pulled no punches in their own experiment and published a blow-by-blow recap—Is Monk Mode Worth It? My 30-Day Try, Warts and Wins—that gave me the confidence to try my own spin.

What I Actually Did (My Rules)

I wrote these on a sticky note and taped it to my fridge:

• Phone on grayscale. Do Not Disturb from 6 a.m. to noon.
• Social apps blocked on weekdays with Freedom.
• Two 90-minute deep work blocks each morning.
• Gym or run 5 days a week. No booze.
• Meal prep on Sundays. Simple: chicken, rice, veggies.
• A book before bed. No screens after 9:30 p.m.

Tools I used: Notion for a simple board, Focusmate for body-doubling, the Forest timer for sprints, and my Sony noise-canceling headphones. Also a cheap kitchen timer. Funny how that little tick helps.

Of course, not everyone walks away impressed; this blunt write-up—Does Monk Mode Work? My Honest Hands-On Review—lays out the pitfalls so you can dodge them.

Quick bonus: the free daily dashboard over at Monkify gave me a single page to tick off my rules and watch my streaks build.

How It Felt, Week by Week

Week 1: Fresh and sharp. I woke at 6:00, made coffee, and the apartment felt still. The fridge hummed. I shipped a client deck by Thursday and cleaned my inbox to zero. I felt tall.

Week 2: Friction. My friends texted about tacos. I said no. Twice. It stung. I missed out. I also forgot to switch my laundry and had to rewash. Classic.

Reading someone else say “I tried monk mode so you don't have to” felt oddly reassuring; their story, found here—I Tried Monk Mode So You Don’t Have To—But You Might Want To—prepped me for the inevitable taco FOMO.

Week 3: Groove. I ran along the river three mornings in a row. Cold air. Nose sting. I set a 5K PR—by 41 seconds. I wrote 1,200 words for my course in a Focusmate session with Anna from Toronto. She knitted. I typed. It worked.

Week 4: Drag. I wasn’t bored, but I felt flat. I caught myself staring at the wall after lunch. I added a short walk at 3 p.m. Saved me. That mid-afternoon wall is also a common warning sign of burnout that can creep in when long stretches of hyper-focus lack proper breaks, a risk workplace-management researchers highlight.

What Went Great

• Focus, like a clean windshield. Two deep work blocks did more than my usual scatter all day.
• Real output. I finished two client case studies, drafted a tiny email course (five lessons), and updated my UX portfolio with fresh screenshots.
• Sleep. Phone out of the bedroom = better rest. I fell asleep faster, and stayed asleep.
• Money. No going out meant I saved about $180 that month. I saw it in my card app.
• Fitness. That 5K PR felt sweet. My knees did not complain for once—thank you, warm-up bands.

If you want an even meatier post-mortem, this 30-day challenge breakdown—My 30-Day Monk Mode Challenge: What Worked, What Flopped, What Stuck—mirrors many of my own highs and lows.

You know what? The quiet felt kind. Not harsh. Kind.

What Went Sideways

• Loneliness. My group chat kept rolling. I watched from the bench. I felt it.
• Rigidity. If a morning went off plan—plumber, neighbor noise—I lost steam. Monk mode can get brittle.
• Rebound. On day 31, I scrolled TikTok like I’d never seen a phone. Oops. I had to reset my blocks the next day. If your slippery slope tilts more toward NSFW cam sites than endless scrolling, skim this Jerkmate review for a candid breakdown of the platform’s hooks, costs, and time-management tips so you can decide with clear eyes instead of autopilot clicks.
• Home stuff slipped. I skipped a midweek shop, then ate cereal for dinner. Twice.
• Relationships. My partner said, “You feel far on Tuesdays.” He was right. I was in my head.

Another writer went full send for the same stretch and admits it both helped and hurt—his candid take lives here: I Tried Full Monk Mode for 30 Days: It Helped, It Hurt—Here’s My Honest Take.

On a related note, the quiet space that monk mode creates can sometimes nudge you toward impulse searches for real-world connection—like scanning local classifieds when the cabin fever hits. If you’re anywhere near the south-suburban Illinois scene, the rundown of available listings and safety tips on Backpage Chicago Heights by OneNightAffair gives a clear-eyed look at how those ads work, what costs to expect, and which red flags to avoid so you can weigh the option rationally instead of clicking in the heat of boredom.

Real Examples That Sold Me (And One That Didn’t)

• Tuesday, 7:10 a.m.: I sat with a mug, no phone, and set a Forest 50-minute timer. I rewrote a messy case study intro. Clear, simple. Client approved it with one note. One!
• Thursday, noon: Freedom blocked Instagram. I reached for it, out of habit, and hit a wall page that said, “Breathe.” Sounds corny. It helped.
• Saturday long run: I wanted to quit at 4 miles. I told myself, “Just one more song.” Went to 5.3. Tiny wins stack.
• The miss: I tried a full silent Sunday. No music, no podcasts. It felt sterile. I got grumpy. I won’t do that again.

Who Should Try It

• You’ve got a deadline, an exam, or a launch.
• You’re building a skill and feel spread thin.
• You need a quick reset after a messy season.

Who might hate it:

• Caregivers with wild schedules.
• Folks on-call or in reactive team roles.
• If social time is your battery, not your treat.

As a contrast, someone who stayed in monk mode for a whopping 90 days shares what they’d change next time—check out I Went Monk Mode for 90 Days: How I Did It, What I Felt, What I’d Change if you’re eyeing a longer sprint.

How I’d Make It Kinder Next Time

• 21 days, not 30. Long enough to stick, short enough to breathe.
• Two social nights a week, planned. Tacos matter.
• A “cheat window” on Saturday noon to 4 p.m. Scroll, laugh, reset.
• Keep Sunday soft. Errands, stretch, a long call with my mom.
• Swap one deep block for a study group or Focusmate doubled-up hour when I feel flat.

For a middle-ground perspective, the 45-day experiment summarized in I Tried Monk Mode for 45 Days After Reading the Book—Here’s What Stuck highlights gentler tweaks that still move the needle.

Simple tweak I loved: I put my phone in the kitchen drawer at 9 p.m. I could still hear calls. I just couldn’t reach.

Little Tips That Helped Me Stick

• Prep your desk the night before. Clean surface, open doc, one sticky note with the first task.
• Pick a uniform for deep work. Mine was hoodie, headphones, peppermint gum. Pavlov, but cute.
• Tell one friend. “I’m head-down this month. Still love you.” You’ll feel less weird

You know what? I got hooked by the promise. Work harder. Cut the noise. Get more done. Some folks push “monk mode” with very little sleep. They say it builds grit. I wanted that edge. So I tried it.

I wish I hadn’t. Turns out, I’m not the first to suffer; another deep dive—I tried Monk Mode with less sleep: here’s what actually happened—shows eerily similar fallout.

The hype that pulled me in

I saw a few guides and threads. They said to wake up much earlier, shrink your sleep, and push through. No parties. No Netflix. Just grind. I already review gear and tools all day, so focus sounds nice. And I track sleep with my Oura ring and an Apple Watch, so I thought I’d be smart about it.

Spoiler: I wasn’t.

What I tried (and what went sideways)

For 10 days, I cut my sleep way down. I still kept a strict morning block for deep work. Phone on airplane mode. Slack off. Coffee early. Cold shower. The usual monk mode set. I also used Freedom to lock social apps and Forest for focus sprints.

Day 1 felt fine. Adrenaline can be loud.

By Day 3, I felt slow. By Day 6, my brain was mud.
Turns out, that's textbook cognitive fallout when you shave off REM and deep cycles—sleep scientists note that attention, memory, and decision-making all wobble fast (source).

I didn’t add more time. I added more errors.

Curious where a full month of this leads? Peek at I went Monk Mode for 30 days—here’s what actually happened for a longer sample size.

Real moments that made me pause

• Day 2: I replied to the wrong client thread on Slack. Twice. I even wrote “See attached,” and forgot the file.
• Day 4: I put salt in my coffee. Not cute. I cried a little. Then I laughed. Then I cried again. Mood whiplash is real.
• Day 5: I wrote a review draft in Notion, read it back, and it felt like a stranger wrote it with mittens on.
• Day 7: I missed my exit on the freeway. I wasn’t on my phone. I just zoned out.
• Day 8: I burned rice. Who burns rice? Me, on no sleep.
• Day 9: I snapped at a friend for texting “u up?” at 9 pm. I was already in bed and still felt wired.

Small things, but they stack. Work is detail. Life is detail. I kept dropping them.

Some people manage to stretch the experiment to an entire season—I went Monk Mode for 90 days: how I did it, what I felt, what I'd change is a wild read if you want to see the long-haul effects.

My body’s report card (Oura didn’t lie)

I know numbers aren’t everything, but they told a story.

• Resting heart rate went up 6–8 bpm on average.
• My Oura “readiness” score slid into the 50s. That’s the yellow zone, which for me means “hey, chill.”
• HRV tanked. Think less bounce-back; more slog.
• Cravings went wild. Chips, cookies, anything crunchy. I’m usually fine. Not that week.
• I got light headaches in the afternoon. Water didn’t fix it. Neither did tea.

Those swings aren’t just anecdotal; a 2023 controlled trial showed that five nights of restricted sleep bumped resting heart rate and clipped HRV in healthy adults (study).

Also, my eyes felt gritty. Like beach sand. And my skin broke out along my jaw. That doesn’t happen when I sleep well.

But did I get more done?

Here’s the odd thing. On paper, yes. I logged more hours. I filled more checkboxes in Notion. It looked good.

But my edits took longer the next day. I rewrote whole parts. I was busy, not better. There’s a difference.

A balanced critique—I tried Monk Mode so you don’t have to (but you might want to)—backs this up: busy isn’t always better.

If you're looking for a kinder, evidence-based roadmap to deep focus, the guides over at Monkify lay it out without preaching sleep sacrifice.

What worked better than less sleep

I did pull a few keepers from the monk vibe—without wrecking sleep.

• A short “deep block” each morning (90 minutes). I use a cube timer and the Forest app.
• A “no-scroll” rule after dinner. My phone stays parked by the door. Out of sight helps.
• A hard caffeine cutoff at 2 pm. Sleep came faster.
• Noise control. Sony WH-1000XM5 in the day; Loop earplugs when I need quiet.
• A tiny “shutdown ritual.” I write three lines: what I did, what I’ll do tomorrow, and one worry I’ll handle. Then I stop.
• Light walk right after breakfast. Morning sun resets me better than another latte.

Looking back, I also ditched the endless bedtime swiping on dating apps; if you’d rather schedule one quick, no-strings meetup and avoid the late-night distraction treadmill, check out FuckBuddies—the platform streamlines casual connections so you can satisfy your social side fast and get back to your focused routine refreshed. Los Angeles readers who want that same friction-free approach but with hyper-local options can browse the tailored listings at Backpage West Hollywood where vetting is quick and meets are arranged on your terms, freeing up evening headspace for sleep instead of scrolling.

I also tested a Hatch Restore for a gentle wake-up. It sounds silly, but that soft light felt kind. Kind wins.

A quick winter note

I tried this in late winter. Dark mornings add drag. If you’re chasing focus then, be gentle. A 10-minute light session helped more than any “push through” quote I saved on Instagram.

Who might still feel tempted?

If you’re in school, on a deadline, or launching a thing, I get it. The pull is strong. But please hear me: cutting sleep felt like borrowing hours at shark rates. I paid back with interest.

If you must run a short sprint, keep your sleep stable. Trim screen time. Trim meetings. Trim the fluff, not your night.

Pros and cons of the “sleep less” advice

Pros

• It feels edgy and brave for a day or two.
• Your calendar looks full. That can lift mood, fast.

Cons

• Foggy brain, shaky moods, and clumsy mistakes.
• Health signals dip. Mine did.
• Work quality slips, even if your logs look packed.
• It strains people around you. I got snappy. Not proud of that.

For a moderated blueprint that keeps shut-eye intact, see I tried full Monk Mode for 30 days—it helped, it hurt, here’s my honest take.

My verdict

Monk mode with sleep deprivation? Hard pass. It promised grit. It gave me glitches.

Monk mode with sleep protected? That I like. Keep a clean focus block. Kill the noise. Eat simple food. Move a bit. Sleep like it’s part of the job—because it is.

I wanted to be a machine. Turns out I’m not. I’m a person. And when I treat myself like one, my work gets better, and it stays better.

If you’re reading this at 1 am, hey—close the tab. Write three lines for tomorrow. Then bed. Your future self will high-five you in the morning.

I’m Kayla, and I like hard resets. The kind that scare you a little. So I tried “extreme monk mode” for 30 days last winter. It wasn’t cute. But it worked in ways I didn’t expect.
If you’re curious how another experimenter handled a similarly intense sprint, take a peek at what happened when someone else went extreme monk mode for 30 days.

I’ll share the real stuff—what I cut, what broke, what healed, and the tools that got me through. You know what? It was both too much and just right.

Why I Did This To Myself

By January, my brain felt loud. I kept doom-scrolling at night. My work sprints dragged. I said yes to too many things. My screen time was up, my mood was down, and my pants were snug. Not my finest season.

I’d read Deep Work by Cal Newport years ago and loved it. But I let it slip. So I set rules that felt strict on purpose. I wanted to see what focus could do when it wasn’t a theory.
The contrast was helpful after reading about a more balanced 30-day reset in this honest take on full monk mode—what helped and what hurt.
Research on the practice backs it up—according to the World Economic Forum, adopting a “monk mode” sprint can significantly boost productivity when distractions are stripped away (source).

My Rules (The “Extreme” Part)

• Wake at 5:30 a.m. Lights out by 9:30 p.m.
• No social media. Phone on grayscale. Widgets gone.
• No alcohol. No sugar before noon. Black coffee only.
• One hour of deep work, twice a day. Headphones on.
• Daily movement: 45-minute walk or gym. No excuses.
• 10 pages of reading. Paper book if possible.
• Journal one page. Keep it plain and honest.
• One “big thing” at work. Finish it before lunch.
• Two social windows a week. That’s it.
• Sunday reset: plan, groceries, laundry, long walk.

If it sounds strict—yep. That was the point.

The Setup (Tools That Kept Me Honest)

For extra accountability, I also skimmed guides on Monkify, which aggregates focus tools and minimalism tactics in one tidy hub.

• Forest app to block my phone and grow silly trees.
• Freedom on my laptop to block news and feeds.
• Notion for my “One Big Thing” and a tiny habit board.
• Streaks app for a simple chain. Green boxes make me happy.
• Bose noise-canceling headphones. Life saver.
• Paper index cards for to-do triage. One card per day.
• Kindle at night, lamp with warm light. No blue glow.
• Garmin watch to track steps and sleep. I ignored the “Body Battery” when it yelled at me, but it did help.

I also set my iPhone to grayscale. It made Instagram look like old bread. I didn’t want it. That helped more than I expected.

Dating apps were off the table too; the endless swipe is engineered to tug at dopamine, and the lure of risqué profile photos can derail a focus sprint—if you’re curious why the swipe-and-scroll loop feels so magnetic, this breakdown of Tinder nudes explains how visual temptation drives engagement and shares practical pointers for keeping your attention (and camera roll) in check. Likewise, classifieds-style hookup boards can become a surprise rabbit hole when you’re supposed to be in deep work; a quick scroll through Backpage Winter Park reveals a curated directory of local personal ads along with safety tips for meeting offline, giving you insight into how easily time (and focus) can slip if you don’t set boundaries.

Week 1: The Crash and the Click

Day 1: My alarm hit at 5:30. I wanted to throw it. I got up anyway. I wrote my page. It was messy. I wrote, “I don’t want to do this,” three times. Then I made black coffee. Bitter, then fine.

At work, I blocked Slack for 90 minutes and did a backlog review. I shipped a spec that had been haunting me for two weeks. That felt like magic. Or maybe it was just quiet.

Day 3, I got a headache around 3 p.m. Sugar cravings. I ate almonds and cursed the almonds. That night, I slept like a rock.
Turns out some people double down on monk mode by sleeping less, which blew my mind after reading this short experiment that tested monk mode with reduced sleep.

Day 5, my friend texted, “Drinks?” I said, “Walk?” We did a night loop with beanies on. We laughed more than usual. Winter air helps. So does no bar noise.

Week 2: The Boredom Wall

The work wins continued. I finished a user guide that I had been dragging through mud. I built a content calendar that actually matched our deadlines. A small miracle.

But boredom hit. I stared at walls. I reached for my phone out of habit and found… nothing. That empty feeling? It was loud. I walked around the block. I called my grandma. She told me to “wear socks” like it was the secret to life. Maybe it is. My feet were warmer and so was my heart.

Saturday, I slipped. I watched game highlights for 40 minutes. It felt like eating frosting with a spoon. Sweet, then blah. I logged it. No shame, just facts.

Week 3: Quiet Confidence, Weird Joy

By week three, the mornings felt smoother. My focus came on faster. I could sit and write for 45 minutes straight with no itch. I finished a pitch deck in one session. That never happens for me.

I also noticed tiny joys. Hot showers felt kinder. The sound of my kettle made me smile. I know that sounds cheesy. I don’t care. The world felt less sharp, more round.

I added a little strength plan: three sets of push, pull, squat, twice a week. Simple, clean. My mood rose. My sleep got deeper. My Garmin would buzz “Good night.” I’d smirk, like, “Thanks, watch.”
Reading about someone who stretched monk mode to 90 days made me wonder how far the benefits (and discomforts) could go—here’s a deep dive into a full three-month monk mode.

Week 4: The Tradeoffs Show Up

The hard part hit here. A birthday dinner came up. Everyone ordered wine. I had seltzer with lime and a steak. I felt proud and also kind of left out. Both can be true.

Also, my strict social windows made me miss a last-minute hang with my sister. That didn’t sit right. She said, “I just wanted fries and a rant.” I heard her. Extreme can cut the wrong way.
It reminded me of a popular YouTube creator’s take—Hamza’s 30-day monk mode—and how he balanced social trade-offs with discipline.

At work, though? Wild. I cleared a month of nagging tasks. I cleaned my inbox to zero for the first time since… college? My brain felt like a clean desk. I’m not saying I’ll keep it that clean. But now I know what it can look like.

Real Wins I Didn’t Expect

• My skin got calmer. Less sugar, more water, more sleep. The trio works.
• My grocery bill went down. Simple food, home meals, fewer “treat runs.”
• I read two books. Actual paper. I remembered more. I underlined with a pencil, like a nerd, and felt proud.
• I became less reactive. Slack pings didn’t rule me. Meetings felt lighter because my big work was done before lunch.

The Parts That Kind of Stunk

• I missed the silly stuff. Memes with friends. Short reels. That micro-fun matters.
• I felt rigid. Plans are nice; people are nicer. I had to adjust.
• The “no sugar before noon” rule made me odd at team bagel day. I wanted the blueberry. I ate eggs. It was fine, but I missed the joy.

What I Changed After Day 30

Here’s the thing: I kept the core, but eased the edges.

• Social apps stay blocked on weekdays till 5 p.m. Nights and weekends are open.
• One drink on a date or a birthday is okay. No guilt.
• I keep two deep work blocks on Mon, Tue, Thu. Wednesday is for meetings and small tasks. Friday is float.
• I allow one “silly scroll” session on Sunday. Timer set. Done.

You know what? I used to eye-roll at the term. Monk Mode sounded loud and a bit dramatic.
If you’re fuzzy on the basics, this short hands-on breakdown of the meaning of Monk Mode mirrors exactly what first made it click for me.

But I kept seeing it on TikTok and in podcasts. People said it helped them work, write, rest, and even save money. I was stuck on a book draft and I’d signed up for a half marathon I didn’t feel ready for. So I tried it. Not forever—just a clear stretch. Six weeks.

This is my honest take. The good, the awkward, and the stuff I’d change.

The Quick Take

Monk Mode is a season of focus. You set a goal, pick a few simple rules, and cut noise. That’s it. It’s not a cult. It’s just structure with teeth.
Productivity experts note that carving out these intense, distraction-free blocks often translates into higher-quality work delivered in less time, a claim explored in this Forbes piece on going into Monk Mode.

Did it work for me? Yes—mostly.
For a broader look at whether the approach actually delivers, check out this candid “does Monk Mode work?” field review.

I wrote more, slept better, and I’m not scared of 10-mile runs now. But I also got bored, slipped up, and had to fix the rules to fit real life.

What Is Monk Mode (To Me)

Plain terms:

• Pick one big goal.
• Set 3–5 rules that remove friction.
• Choose a time frame, like 14, 30, or 60 days.
• Tell one person. Track one metric. Keep it simple.

It’s like hitting Do Not Disturb on your whole day. Not forever—just for a season.
For a balanced list of upsides—like sharper concentration—and pitfalls—such as possible burnout—this overview of Monk Mode's benefits and challenges breaks it down.

Wondering if the payoff justifies the hassle? This writer’s 30-day scorecard spells out whether Monk Mode is worth it.

Why I Tried It

Two reasons:

1. My book draft sat at 11,300 words for months. Scrivener glared at me.
2. My half marathon plan got sloppy. I ran when I “felt like it,” which meant… I didn’t.

I needed a clean reset. Not fancy. Just clear.

My Rules (Week 1 to Week 6)

I wrote mine on a sticky note and taped it to my laptop:

• Two 90-minute deep work blocks, weekdays, before noon.
• Phone on Do Not Disturb till 12 p.m. No social feeds.
• Run or lift 5 days a week. Sunday is a full rest day.
• No booze. Not even one glass “to be social.”
• In bed by 10:30. Screens off by 10.

Tools I used: iPhone Focus modes, Cold Turkey Blocker on my Mac, Forest app for focus, a $5 kitchen timer, and Sony WH-1000XM5 headphones. I tracked runs in Strava and my words in Scrivener. Curious just how slippery certain online rabbit holes can be? Adult cam-roulette platforms are near the top of the list; this candid in-depth Slut Roulette review dissects the site’s most addictive hooks so you can see exactly why placing a hard block on such distractions is crucial during a Monk Mode sprint.

Another category that can torpedo focus just as quickly is local hookup or classified boards—scrolling through the seemingly endless Backpage Perris personal ads shows how a “just looking” minute can balloon into a lost hour; scanning the page makes it crystal-clear why locking down that temptation with an app blocker will protect your productivity streak.

I kept a tiny habit list in Notion. Nothing wild.

Real Moments That Hit Hard

• Day 3, dentist office: I grabbed my phone to “just check” Instagram. Reflex. My thumb hovered. I had blocked the app. The icon was gray. I stared, laughed, and opened my Notes app instead. I listed five lines for my book scene. That list saved me later.

• Friday night, friend’s birthday: My no-alcohol rule got tested. I wanted a gin and tonic so bad. I ordered a seltzer with lime and told my friends I was on a focus kick. They teased me for a minute. Then one of them said, “I should try that.” Social crisis over.

• A messy win: On Day 9, I crushed five Pomodoros in a row. Wrote 2,100 words. Felt like a machine. Then I “took a break” that became me cleaning my closet. For two hours. False productivity looks helpful. It’s not. I set a kitchen timer after that to cap breaks.

• The run I didn’t want: Cold, windy, and my hamstrings felt tight. I told myself “Just 10 minutes.” The first mile stunk. Mile two felt okay. I finished 6 miles. The crunch of gravel, that warm face feeling after cold air—worth it.

• The low point: Day 16, 3 p.m. headache. I stared at my screen and felt a little mean. Too strict is a trap. I took a slow walk with no podcast. Just birds and the hum of passing cars. I came back calmer and wrote a clean paragraph. Still counts.

Stories like mine pop up everywhere; here’s another “I tried it so you don’t have to” first-person recap that I nodded along with.

What Actually Worked

• Deep work before noon: My brain is fresher in the morning. If I start focused, the rest of the day follows. If I check messages first, the day gets noisy.

• One metric per goal: For the book, it was “words written.” For running, “miles per week.” That’s it. My Scrivener count hit 32,417 words by the end of Week 6. My Strava showed 27, 31, 33, 29, 35, and 32 miles. Not perfect—steady.

• Sleep: In bed by 10:30 changed my mornings. My Apple Watch showed 7 hours 45 minutes on average. I woke up less foggy. Coffee tasted better too.

• Money: With no drinks and fewer takeout “emergencies,” I saved $182 that month. Not even trying. I just ate what I had. Soup, eggs, rice bowls, chopped veggies. Sunday prep helped.

• Social made simple: I didn’t vanish. I picked one hangout a week and was present. No endless scrolling. Real faces beat the feed.

What Hurt (And How I Fixed It)

• Boredom: I got sick of my own rules. So I added small treats. Fancy tea. A new playlist. A 20-minute nap on Wednesdays. Sounds small. It worked.

• All-or-nothing thinking: I slipped and checked Twitter one morning. I felt mad at myself. Then I set a rule: “If I slip, I pay it back with a 10-minute walk or 10 push-ups.” No shame. Just a reset.

• Screen headaches: My eyes burned after long writing sessions. I set my monitor to warm tone. I used 20-20-20: every 20 minutes, look 20 feet away for 20 seconds. The pain faded.

• Social pressure: I told my closest people first. I said, “I’m in Monk Mode till March 1. Text me. I’ll reply after lunch.” Expectations set. Drama down.

The Tweaks I’d Keep

After Week 2, I changed three things (turns out the more modern takes on the challenge—like this 30-day Modern Monk Mode experiment—also recommend building release valves):

• I added a Sabbath: No goals on Sunday. I rest. I read my Kindle Paperwhite. I make pancakes. I call my mom.
• I made weekends lighter: Only one deep work block on Saturday, or none. Movement still happens, but it’s a walk sometimes.
• I set “flex windows”: If mornings blow up, I get one 90-minute block after 3 p.m. Not ideal, still fine.

This made the system feel human. Rigid breaks. Flexible bones.

Who Should Try It

• Students with finals coming. You’ll like the clear rules.
• Creators, writers, founders. If you need long focus, it helps.
• New parents? Maybe not strict Monk Mode right now. You’re already in a real-life mode. Try “Mini Monk”—one block a day.
• If you’re overwhelmed and tired, a

Quick note: I kept this simple and real. I wanted focus, fewer pings, and less fluff. Did it work? Yes. And also, not always. Let me explain.
Still curious? I kept a running journal of the entire experiment that you can read in this day-by-day log.

The Plan at a Glance (Outline)

• Why I tried monk mode
• My exact schedule and rules
• Tools I used
• What worked great
• What was hard
• Real results with numbers
• Tips if you want to try it
• Final verdict: who this fits

Why I Even Tried This

I hit a messy stretch in late September. Too many tabs. Too many snacks. My brain felt like 37 open Chrome windows. I write for work, and I needed clear chunks of time. No pings. No scroll holes.

A friend said, “Go monk mode. Go quiet and go deep.” I laughed. Then I did it.
Research backs the idea—going “monk mode” can measurably boost productivity, according to the World Economic Forum.

My Exact Monk Mode Schedule

I ran this for 21 days. Weekdays were strict. Weekends were softer. I still saw people, but less.

Weekdays:

• 5:40 am — Wake, water, light stretch
• 6:00–7:30 — Deep work block 1 (writing first draft)
• 7:30–8:15 — Walk outside, no phone
• 8:15–9:00 — Breakfast and quick cleanup
• 9:00–11:30 — Deep work block 2 (research, edits)
• 11:30–12:00 — Admin (email, invoices)
• 12:00–12:30 — Lunch
• 12:30–1:00 — Nap or eyes closed
• 1:00–2:30 — Deep work block 3 (calls only Tue/Thu)
• 2:30–3:00 — Snack and stretch
• 3:00–4:00 — Light tasks (file, plan, review)
• 5:15 — Gym or home workout
• 7:00 — Dinner
• 8:00 — Read on Kindle, foam roll
• 9:30 — Shower and bed prep
• 10:00 — Lights out

Weekends:

• Mornings for chores and a 90-minute shop-and-cook block
• One social thing on Saturday night
• Sunday reset: plan week in Notion, wash sheets, charge gear

Is this strict? Yep. But I slept better by week two. That shocked me.
For a longer 30-day variant—with a few extra bumps and breakthroughs—check out this full recap.

The Rules I Lived By

• Phone in a kitchen drawer from 6:00 am to noon
• No social media till 5 pm (Forest app timer running)
• No meetings before 1 pm
• 3 coffee max, last one by 1:30 pm
• No news before lunch
• Headphones on = “no talk” sign, even at home
• One “messy day” per week where I could break rules

I’ll admit it. I broke the rules on day 4. I ate chips at 10 am and scrolled. Then I put the phone back. That small restart felt big.
Another hidden landmine was those “just curious” location-based browsing sites—think local-flavor adult map directories like MilfMaps—because two clicks can turn into twenty and zap an entire focus block; still, if you genuinely want a fast, map-style way to see who’s nearby, the site delivers that in seconds. Likewise, a classifieds-style hub tailored to one city—such as the Mission Viejo listings on One Night Affair—puts a curated feed of local ads at your fingertips, which can be valuable when you truly need up-to-date information but is equally lethal for deep-work momentum.

Tools That Helped Me Focus

• Forest app for timers
• Freedom to block sites from 6 am–11:30 am
• Notion for planning and weekly review
• Google Calendar for time blocks
• Kindle Paperwhite at night
• Sony WH-1000XM4 headphones for noise
• Aeropress for a quick coffee ritual (tiny joy)
• A cheap kitchen timer for the short breaks

I didn’t buy fancy stuff. The timer did most of the heavy lifting. If you want a plug-and-play tracker to keep the same rules, the free planner at Monkify lays everything out in one clean dashboard.

What Worked Great

• Deep mornings: My brain was crisp at 6:30 am. Words came fast.
• Walk breaks: Short walks kept me steady. Sun on face helped mood.
• Fewer choices: When to write? It was on the calendar. I just sat down.
• No pings: Freedom and the drawer trick cut out “I’ll just check…” moments.
• Meal prep: Pre-cut veggies saved me from snack chaos.

What Stung a Little

• Social squeeze: I said no a lot. That got old by week two.
• Rigid vibe: If I slipped, I felt guilty. That’s not helpful.
• Afternoon dip: I wanted sugar at 2 pm. A lot.
• Boredom: Focus is not fireworks. It felt plain some days.
• Family texts: People got mad when I didn’t reply till noon. I had to warn them first.

You know what? I loved the quiet. I also missed goofy group chats. Both can be true.

Real Results (Numbers Help)

• Writing output: 33,200 words in 21 days (avg ~1,580/day)
• Inbox: Twice hit inbox zero by noon (rare for me)
• Sleep: Up from 6 hr 20 min to about 7 hr 10 min, per Apple Watch
• Gym: Deadlift went from 165 lbs to 185 lbs (small win)
• Screen time: Down 31% weekday mornings
• Mood: Fewer “frazzled” notes in my journal, more “steady” and “clear”

Not magic. But solid.
If you want to compare these numbers with another 30-day run (rules, slip-ups, and all), skim this candid breakdown.

Small Tangent: Food, Seasons, and Vibes

I started as fall hit. Cooler mornings made walks easy. Soup Sundays felt cozy. I cooked a big pot of turkey chili and roasted veggies. It sounds small, but warm food kept me from candy runs at 3 pm.

What I’d Change Next Time

• Build a gentle on-ramp: Start with two early days, not five
• Add one social lunch midweek
• Shorten block 3 to 60 minutes if I’m dragging
• Keep the Sunday reset no matter what

Quick Tips If You Try It

• Tell your people: “I’m offline till noon. Call if urgent.”
• Make a simple menu: Breakfast, lunch, snack. Repeat all week.
• Set one daily target: A page count, a deck, a chapter, a dataset cleaned
• Use a timer: 50 minutes on, 10 off, three rounds
• Pick a shutdown cue: Close laptop, write tomorrow’s first task on a sticky, lights low
• Keep one cheat valve: Saturday night is free
  For more practical pointers, Forbes also breaks down how to go into monk mode without burning out.

The Verdict: Who Is This For?

• Yes: Writers, coders, students, anyone with big work that needs quiet chunks
• Maybe: Parents with tight mornings—try a shorter version
• No thanks: Jobs with constant calls, or folks who gain energy from chatter

I’ll run monk mode again for two weeks in January, not three. Why? It works, but it’s heavy. I need seasons—quiet sprints and then light weeks. Like breathing.

If you want clean focus for a while, this schedule helps. It’s plain, kind, and firm. And it leaves room for a life, if you let it.