I’m Kayla, and I’m a bit of a rule person. Not a robot. Just someone who likes a clear yard line. Last year got messy for me—work mix-ups, kid drama, money stress. So I tried a new thing: living as a moral objectivist.
If you’re curious how someone else road-tested this same idea, this candid field report on living as a moral objectivist makes a great companion read.
That means I treated some rules as always true. Some things are right. Some things are wrong. No matter how I feel. No matter who’s watching. I wanted to see if that structure would help or just make life harder.
You know what? It did both. Let me explain.
What I Mean by “Moral Objectivist”
Plain talk: I picked a small set of rules that don’t bend. Tell the truth. Don’t cheat. Don’t harm people. Keep your word when you give it. I’m not talking about every small choice. I’m talking about the core stuff.
I found the idea in books and podcasts. I read Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis. I listened to an episode of Philosophize This! on moral realism. I even scribbled a little list in my Notes app. I called it my “line in the sand.” If you’d like a deeper, jargon-free archive of essays on Objectivist ethics, swing by Full Context for a quick but rigorous download.
Real Life, Real Tests
Here’s where it hit the ground.
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The extra change test: A barista at a local cafe handed me $20 too much. My week had been tight. Rent was due. I felt that pull. Keep it. No one will know. But my rule said no. I gave it back. She looked at me like I’d saved her job. I walked out lighter. Not richer. But lighter.
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The work bug: I do content reviews for small brands. One time, a client launched a page with a big claim that wasn’t true. It would sell, for sure. They asked me to “let it slide.” I said no and logged the issue in Asana. We fixed the copy. Sales dipped a little that week. But that client has sent me three referrals since. Trust pays, just slower.
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The kid debate: My son and his friend fought over game rules. One said headshots were fine. The other said no. I pulled out my “line.” We pick clear rules before we play. We stick with them. No surprises. No sneaky moves. They were mad for a minute. Then they were fine. Kids like clear lanes more than we think.
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The gossip moment: A mom at school started whispering about another mom. Old me might nod along and keep quiet. New me said, “I don’t want to pass that around.” I said it nice. Not mean. It got awkward. Then she changed the subject. Later, she texted me a thanks. Said I handled it with grace. Humans are weird, right?
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The wallet find: I found a coach wallet at Target. Lots of cash. A library card. I used the card to find the phone number. I drove it over. The guy tried to hand me $50. I said no. My son saw it all. He asked, “Is that our rule?” Yep. That’s our rule.
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The software cheat: My friend offered me a cracked version of Photoshop. I said no and paid for Canva Pro instead. Not fancy, but it works. I even learned some tricks in the app that trimmed my time. A clean tool makes my brain calm.
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The late-night scroll: One evening I hovered over a subreddit notorious for sharing leaked private photos. My rule about respect and consent snapped me awake. If you want the facts on how that scene really works, this deep-dive into Reddit nudes breaks down the legal gray zones, the risks, and the consent questions so you can set your own boundary before you ever click. I closed the tab and went to bed.
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The consensual check-in: Exploring adult entertainment can be its own ethical maze. While researching how professionals handle consent and screening, I came across this detailed rundown of AdultLook Lafayette which walks you through vetting practices, safety protocols, and mutual-respect etiquette so you can keep your boundaries clear while ensuring everyone is on the same ethical page.
When It Felt Great
Clarity helps. I slept better. I argued less. I didn’t spend hours spinning stories in my head. You know how you replay a talk and think, should I have said this, or that? That faded.
People started trusting me more. My manager asked me to review a tough client message because I “won’t sugarcoat it.” Not rude. Just clear. That felt good. Like knowing where the floor is when the room is dark.
When It Got Messy
Here’s the thing. I love clear rules. But I also love kindness. And they don’t always point the same way.
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The birthday lie: My partner planned a surprise for me. I had to pretend I didn’t know. Is that lying? My rule says don’t lie. But also, don’t ruin joy. I split the difference. I didn’t ask. I didn’t hint. I let the party happen. No harm, no foul.
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The white lie at work: A teammate asked if their draft looked good. It didn’t. Should I crush their mood? Instead, I told the truth but held the edges soft. “The idea is strong. The opening is muddy. Here’s a fix.” That felt honest and kind.
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The trolley kind of stuff: One night my kid had a high fever. The pharmacy had a “one per person” sign on the last bottle. A dad behind me looked scared. He needed one too. I asked the cashier if she could hold it while I checked the back. She did. We both got help. Was that perfect? No. But the goal was no harm.
So I made a tiny system. I called it my “stack.”
- Don’t harm.
- Tell the truth.
- Keep your word.
- Be fair.
If two rules fight, I start at the top and go down. It isn’t fancy. It kept me steady.
Tools That Helped
- Day One for short notes on hard choices.
- Streaks to track “truth days” and “no gossip” days.
- A sticky note on my desk: “No harm. Truth. Promise. Fair.”
- Books: Mere Christianity (clear stories), The Righteous Mind by Jonathan Haidt (why groups care about different values).
- Podcast: Philosophize This! episode on moral realism (simple, friendly tone).
If you’d like to see which Objectivist communities actually reinforce good habits, this year-long audit of Objectivist organizations breaks down what truly helps and what’s just noise.
I also asked my book club to poke holes. They did. That made my stack stronger.
Pros and Cons After a Year
Pros:
- Less stress from second-guessing.
- People trust you more.
- Kids learn fast from steady rules.
- Work gets cleaner. Fewer sticky messes later.
Cons:
- You can seem stiff if you don’t explain your why.
- Some people will test you. They just will.
- Edge cases take time and heart.
- You might lose small wins, like quick sales or fast praise.
Who This Fits
- Parents, teachers, managers—anyone who guides people.
- Folks like me who like a plan.
- People who want to sleep with a quiet mind.
Who might not love it? If your work lives on surprise and rule-bending—say, stand-up comedy or street art—you may feel boxed in. You can still keep a core few rules though. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.
A Quick Week-Long Trial
Try this simple track:
- Pick 3 rules. Keep them short. Mine were: Don’t harm. Tell the truth. Keep promises.
- Write them where you’ll see them. Phone lock screen works.
- Each night, note one choice where you used them. One line is fine.
If you enjoy putting ideas to paper, entering the Atlas Shrugged essay contest is another low-stakes way to pressure-test your principles in public.
By Friday, ask: Did this make life calmer or harder? Be blunt. If it helped, keep going. If not, tweak the stack.
A Small Holiday Test
During returns season, I got refunded twice for one sweater. I noticed it in my bank app. That money looked nice. I called customer service and told them. It took 12 minutes. They fixed it. No story later. No “What if they find it?” No knot in my chest while eating pie. Peace beats a sweater.
My Verdict
I give moral objectivism, as a way to live, a 4.2 out of 5.
It’s not perfect. It won’t solve every gray corner