self-care

Learning to Steep Like Tea

Somewhere in my healing journey, there was this gentle slowing down – a soft withdrawal from my usual urgency to react, to fix. Before, when I felt triggered or when sadness and panic hit, there was always this restlessness, this need to fix something, to move quickly. That place was not comfortable to be in.

What I never expected was that this slowing down was actually nature’s way of teaching me to be present. Through my trauma, I discovered this was a sign in my healing journey – that I was learning to let go and be more accepting.

One day when my best friend was asking me how I was doing, the words just came: “I’m steeping, like a tea bag in hot water.” I was surprised I even said that, because it was exactly how it felt.

Now when I need this time, I grow quieter, naturally gravitating toward solitude – long walks in nature, visits to the spa, or simply sitting on my balcony watching the sky and trees. I write sometimes, or just think, or don’t think at all. During this time, I don’t rush to process or understand. I just let whatever I’m feeling exist.

There’s something profound in this stillness. A calmness emerges that I never found in all my previous rushing toward solutions. Realizations surface naturally, like bubbles rising in still water. And in those moments, I find myself talking to my Creator – not in desperation, but in surrender.

“This is where I am. I need your help.”

It might take a day, sometimes longer, but eventually something shifts. There’s lightness. Clarity. A deeper understanding I couldn’t have forced. And always, always, humility.

I realize now that healing doesn’t happen through panic or the urge for immediate fixes, but through presence. Through simply being with what is, without needing to change it right away.

The most healing happens when I stop trying to heal and just… steep.

This process has taught me that sometimes the answer isn’t to do something about our emotions, but to be with them. To trust that sitting quietly with our experience, creating space for it to exist, allows something natural and necessary to unfold.

I’ve learned I need time alone with whatever I’m going through. And in that solitude, in that steeping, I find not emptiness but fullness. Not avoidance but the deepest kind of presence.

Maybe what we call healing isn’t always about getting better faster. Maybe sometimes it’s about learning to be present with ourselves exactly as we are, trusting that this presence itself transforms us in ways our rushing never could.

The Unbecoming Process: Finding Peace Within

In daily life, whatever we do – whether we experience negativity like anger, frustration, jealousy, or hurt – I’ve come to understand that if we look deeper and deeper into our actions, we’re all seeking the same thing: peace, happiness, and contentment.

I think all that negativity is our unconscious way of trying to prove our self-worth through our ego. We demonstrate this in ways we’re not even aware of – through our struggles, our pain, our reaching for something more – all in an attempt to show that we’re worthy of love and recognition.

In my own life journey, I’ve recognized these patterns – wanting to feel seen, feeling inferior, trying to be the best at everything, people-pleasing, being self-critical, or carrying shame. Through my meditation practice and self-awareness, I’ve come a long way in understanding these tendencies. While they still show up every now and then, I can now choose differently when I notice them. We all have our own ways of unconsciously trying to prove we deserve love and happiness.

The truth is, we don’t have to do anything to earn that peace or prove our worth. It’s already within us. Our Creator loves us completely, and we have always had this love. The unconscious ways in which we try to prove our self-worth to ourselves and to others around us is never needed.

Sometimes we go through difficult experiences and learn from them. We realize that certain behaviors, thoughts, or choices aren’t bringing us the happiness we’re seeking. We start to notice that when we look for fulfillment outside ourselves – whether through hurting others, seeking power or even through self-criticism and shame – it doesn’t satisfy us. All these patterns come from the ego trying to find worth and meaning, when we already possess infinite worth simply by being.

When we observe how our life unfolds with these patterns, we can see how they affect the quality of our life and the quality of our mind. We can make different choices and turn inward instead. We can ask ourselves deeper questions about why we do what we do, why we react the way we react.

Many people don’t want to do this inner work because we’re afraid of what we might find about ourselves. We’re afraid of our shadows, our mistakes, our deeper wounds. But those questions, when we’re brave enough to ask them, can lead us deeper into self-awareness and self-discovery. It’s like removing a thorn that got deep within us. Yes, it hurts when the thorn is in, and it hurts even when we try to get it out – but we need to do it to be healed.

This process is beautiful. It’s a way of unbecoming who we think we are to discover who we were always meant to be – how we were originally created. The unbecoming process is like peeling away layers of an onion. As you go deeper, removing each layer of conditioning, fear, and false identity, you get closer to the pure essence that was always there.

This is what remains when everything else falls away – love, peace, and our true nature. We feel at peace knowing we do not have to prove anything to anyone. We feel comfortable knowing we are not perfect, and this makes it easier for us to let down our guard and accept ourselves as we are. This also enables us, as a ripple effect, to be more present and naturally accepting and loving toward others. When we are accepting of our own imperfections and loving toward ourselves, it becomes natural to extend that same acceptance and love to others. The nature of pure love is giving rather than expecting, and this changes our dynamic in relationships.

This understanding doesn’t require any special experiences or practices. It’s available to us in every moment of daily life, in every challenge, in every choice to look within rather than outside ourselves for what we’re truly seeking. Meditation practices help us through this self-awareness journey and help us become comfortable with ourselves. They allow us to see ourselves through a lens of detachment, helping us be more loving and gentler toward ourselves.

The journey inward is the journey home to who we’ve always been.

The Beauty of Dating Yourself: A Personal Reflection

Have you ever gone to a movie theater by yourself? Bought that big bucket of popcorn, settled into your seat, and watched exactly what you wanted to see – no negotiations, no compromises? Have you ever taken yourself to your favorite restaurant, ordered your go-to dish, and simply enjoyed your own company?

I call it dating yourself. And it’s one of the most liberating things I’ve discovered in my thirties.

It all started when my bestie shared how much she loved going to theaters on her own. Something about that struck a chord in me. Her simple joy in choosing her own movie, her own time, without negotiation or compromise, inspired something in me I hadn’t realized I was missing.

My husband has always been wonderfully loving and surprising – he still is. This isn’t about lacking love in my life; it’s about discovering an additional layer of fulfillment I didn’t know I needed.

When I first tried going to a movie alone, I felt a rush of freedom I hadn’t expected. Just me, my popcorn, and exactly the story I wanted to lose myself in. The same goes for restaurants. Sitting alone at a table, ordering exactly what I’m craving, taking my time – it’s not lonely. It’s intentional. It’s caring for myself in the most direct way possible.

I used to wait for others to make my birthday special, to remember Valentine’s Day, to surprise me with thoughtful gestures. But somewhere along the way, I realized I was placing a heavy burden on the people I love – expecting them to be mind readers, to fulfill needs I hadn’t even clearly expressed.

Now? Every Valentine’s Day and every birthday, I take myself on a proper date. I plan exactly what I want to do, buy things that make me happy, celebrate who I am and who I’m becoming. It’s become my annual tradition – one I genuinely look forward to. And you know what’s beautiful about this shift? When my loved ones do surprise me – with a hug, a smile, a gift, a dinner invitation – it feels like pure joy instead of that craving or wondering within me about what they might do or give. They’ve always given out of love, but now I receive their gestures without the weight of expectation. When I do receive their loving gifts this way – already fulfilled and content – it’s pure bonus joy, free from any sense of need or demand. It makes me truly grateful for all the love I’m receiving, in a way I never was before.

I’ve learned to tell my husband exactly what would make me happy, without the guessing games. “I’d love a surprise,” I’ll say, “It could be anything.” And he delivers, every time, because there’s clarity now instead of pressure.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized how crucial it is to be comfortable with our own company – not just as we age, but throughout our lives. We need to know who we are when no one else is around. We need to enjoy our own thoughts, our own interests, our own dreams.

This isn’t about becoming isolated. It’s about building a strong foundation of self-knowledge and self-care that makes us better partners, parents, and friends. When we’re not constantly running from ourselves or depending on others to fill every emotional need, we can love more freely and authentically.

When we take responsibility for our own happiness, something beautiful happens. The people in our lives can love us without the pressure of being our sole source of joy. Their gestures become gifts instead of obligations. Their presence becomes chosen rather than needed.

And when life inevitably brings changes – when children grow up and need us less, when relationships shift, when we face the natural solitude that comes with aging – we’re ready. We’ve already built a loving relationship with the person who will be with us through it all: ourselves.

I was talking to a friend recently about how much I enjoy spending time with myself, and as I spoke, I realized how transformative this journey has been. Learning to be my own companion hasn’t just made me more independent, it’s brought me a deeper peace. Less expectation, more fulfillment. I’ve become happier because I’m not waiting for others to fill a void; I’m already whole.

When I do need something from others, I simply ask. And I’m grateful that my family is supportive of this approach. There’s clarity now instead of resentment, requests instead of demands.

This is simply my story, my way of finding peace and fulfillment. I wanted to share how this approach has changed my life, how it’s helped me love the people around me more freely, and how it’s brought me to a place of genuine happiness.

When we learn to be our own providers of joy, when we stop placing the burden of our happiness entirely on others’ shoulders, something shifts. The love we receive becomes a beautiful addition to our lives rather than a desperate need.

Dating yourself isn’t about being alone; it’s about being whole. It’s about those solo movie nights, those birthday celebrations you plan with excitement, those honest conversations where you simply ask for what you want. It’s about finding that quiet confidence that comes from truly enjoying who you are.

Sometimes the most important realizations come from the simplest conversations with friends – moments when we suddenly see how much we’ve grown, how much peace we’ve found, and how beautiful it is to just be ourselves.

Forgive or Forget? Navigating Relationships That Weren’t Meant to Be

As Mental Health Awareness Month prompts us to reflect on what truly nurtures our wellbeing, I find myself thinking about relationships – specifically, the ones that, despite our best efforts, aren’t meant to last.

I recently faced this with someone who once meant a great deal to me. After experiencing hurt, I valued the relationship enough to offer peace, to make things lighter, to do my best from my end. I genuinely tried to nurture what we had, hoping we could rebuild what was lost. Yet despite these sincere efforts, I eventually realized something important: sometimes the same patterns that caused the initial hurt remain, even after forgiveness has been offered and accepted.

Some relationships naturally drift apart, as though they were never truly meant to endure. The pattern can be particularly painful: a relationship forms, hurt occurs, distance grows, forgiveness follows, reconnection happens… only for the same cycle to repeat itself months or years later.

What I’ve learned about mental health through this experience is profound. Our inner voice often whispers the truth long before we’re ready to hear it. That feeling of something not being quite right – that’s wisdom trying to protect us.

I believe that prioritizing mental health means honoring those internal signals. It means recognizing when a connection depletes rather than replenishes us. It’s not about blame or holding grudges; it’s about acknowledging the reality of what is, rather than clinging to what we hoped could be.

Not every relationship that enters our life is meant to remain there permanently. Some connections serve their purpose for a season, teaching us necessary lessons before we continue separate paths.

The most valuable lesson I’ve learned is that forgiveness doesn’t obligate us to restore a relationship that repeatedly shows itself to be unhealthy.

I don’t believe we should forget the experiences that have shaped us. Each relationship – even the painful ones – has contributed to who we are today. These moments have taught us about boundaries, about ourselves, about what we truly need from connections that deserve space in our lives.

The journey toward better mental health often involves making peace with the reality that some chapters in our story are meant to close. This isn’t failure – it’s growth.

As Mental Health Awareness Month reminds us, we must come first in our own lives.

The greatest responsibility we have is to nurture our own wellbeing. No one else carries this responsibility for us – it is ours alone.

Sometimes, protecting that wellbeing means making thoughtful decisions about which relationships deserve our continued investment, which ones should be honored from a distance, and which should be released entirely.

This is crucial to our mental health – recognizing what brings us peace versus what disturbs it, acknowledging those feelings, and honoring them instead of pushing them aside. There’s wisdom in our discomfort that deserves to be heard.

There’s profound courage in recognizing when a relationship consistently disrupts your peace. Sometimes the most compassionate choice – both for yourself and the other person – is to release the expectation that things will be different next time.

Forgiveness doesn’t always mean restoration. Sometimes, it simply means freedom – the freedom to wish someone well on their journey while continuing your own, unburdened by regret or obligation.

In honoring our mental health, we learn that some of the most important boundaries we’ll ever set are the ones that protect our peace, even when others don’t understand. And that’s not just okay – it’s essential.

What have you realized about relationships that has been crucial for your mental health? What wisdom has your journey taught you about the connection between healthy boundaries and wellbeing?

The Mist Between Worlds

As the laptop screen dims on another workday, Annie feels the familiar call of her evening ritual – that sacred pause between who she needs to be and who she truly is. The shower beckons, promising its daily transformation. She has learnt to trust these shower routines as her daily alchemy, transforming work-worn moments into peace.

Disconnecting from outside chaos, she steps into her bathroom leaving her phone behind. Her bare feet touching the bathroom floor, she is aware of each step. She looks at herself in the mirror, loosens her neck, and takes a deep breath. She brings herself to the moment before turning the shower on.

Steam begins to rise, creating a dreamy veil in the bathroom. A lavender candle flickers in the corner, its gentle aroma mixing with the rising mist. She steps into the shower, letting hot water stream over her like a waterfall of mercy, each drop washing away the digital echoes of the day. The bathroom slowly fills with fog, creating her own peaceful sanctuary.

A variety of soaps wait for her to be picked up, each fragrance in her collection speaks to her differently – lavender whispers calm like a twilight, rose calls for a walk in a lovely garden, jasmine carries echoes of childhood summers when fresh blooms adorned her hair, and citrus sings morning freshness. She holds each bar as if reading a story through her palms, letting the day’s need guide her choice.

Today her hands reach for the rose soap, which melts between her warming palms like a flower opening to morning sun. Each bubble carries memories of garden walks, each fragrant swirl a gentle reminder of beauty in simplicity. She watches the lather trace patterns on her skin, letting the water’s rhythm wash away the digital static of her day.

After the cascading waters release their healing, she envelops her body in a cotton cloud towel, this simple act as a continuation of her evening grace. She walks slowly towards the mirror and meets her reflection with a smile. She opens the drawer and gets a few oils out and carefully places them. She mixes the Vitamin E infused coconut oil with a few drops of lavender oil and rubs them against her palms until warm and gently applies them on her skin passionately feeling every bump. She listens to her skin, her body and what her body tells her. She massages her stomach, legs, hands with oil. Next, she gets her favorite Shea oil and rubs along with a few drops of lavender oil in her palms until warm, and applies on her neck and face in a slow mindful upward circular motion.

Each mindful touch – from trimming nails to brushing teeth – becomes another note in the symphony of self-care. She then gently massages castor oil into her eyebrows and eyelashes.

She pauses and takes a moment to smell the oil from her palms, gazing at herself with gratitude for her body, acknowledging the beauty she is, as she is a child of the Creator Himself.

She wears her sleepwear that her body can breathe in, combs her hair parting sideways, applies her favorite rose scented cologne behind her ears.

Facing the mirror one last time, she sees beyond the reflection to the journey of her evening ritual. The day’s tensions have dissolved like soap bubbles, transformed into something lighter, clearer.

As she winds up in bed to self-reflect with her chamomile tea, she feels restored to herself – not just clean, but renewed. Her gratitude flows as naturally as the evening’s ritual, each word a testament to this daily practice of coming home to herself.