It’s been a while, I know. But finding time for myself again — even briefly — feels like a breath of fresh air. Life has been tangled lately, with family health concerns casting a shadow over our days. Yet here I am, sitting next to my son at a café across from the hospital on a Saturday, both of us quietly working, stealing a moment of peace. It feels like any second a phone might ring or an urgent email might arrive, cutting this moment short. So I write quickly, pouring out what’s been building up inside.
It’s mid-July, and I haven’t touched the sea yet. I usually have a summer ritual — a quiet coastal town, a few days of sun and saltwater — but this year, it’s hard to tell if that will happen. I used to think people who lived day-to-day were careless or unstructured. Now, I understand them. Life teaches you things. Sometimes gently, sometimes not.
Work has become a rhythm I know by heart. The topics change, the days shift, but the volume remains: over a hundred emails a day, most demanding action. I stretch my hours into early mornings and late nights, and even weekends become catch-up zones. I get things done, without letting anyone down.
And what about the life that slips through the cracks? You might ask. I choose not to dwell on it. I choose to be content with what I have. Just this morning, I opened a new spreadsheet and mapped out a plan — how much I could earn monthly from the funds and stocks I like, until year-end. That’s how I comfort myself. If tough times come (hopefully they won’t), I’ll have financial support. As for emotional support… we’ll see who’s there when the time comes.
There’s a quote I’ve been carrying with me lately:
“If you’re healthy, you have many problems. If you’re not, you have only one.”
That’s why, even when my inbox explodes, or someone pings me on Teams during a call, or asks for something urgently — I remind myself: these are problems worth being grateful for. I complete the task and move on. No overthinking. No heavy meaning (Did I really believe that? Hmm… questionable).
We change. We grow. We leave behind old habits and pick up new ones. I’ve always said I’m someone who finds joy in routine. And every time I step outside that routine, I remember its value. This morning, I returned to my long-paused weekend walks. Strolling by the water, listening to new podcast episodes — it felt good. Like a car that’s just finished a long journey, engine still running, catching its breath.
During the walk, I snapped a photo that took me back to childhood. I had a badge with that same character on it — maybe in kindergarten, maybe early school years. Now my son has left those days behind. Time slips through our fingers.
While waiting for the elevator at the hospital, my phone buzzed with a notification: my sleep patterns have shifted. No surprise there. With more hospital visits, longer days on my feet, and the constant balancing act between work and family, rest has quietly slipped down the priority list. I know it’s not sustainable. But instead of promising myself that “things will get better soon,” I’ve started embracing a different mindset — one that feels more honest, more grounded.
“You can’t pour from an empty cup.”
That simple truth has been echoing in my mind lately. It’s a reminder that even in the middle of chaos, we need to refill ourselves — with rest, with quiet, with moments that belong only to us. Not because everything will magically fix itself, but because we deserve to feel whole even when life is messy.
And perhaps the best part? I can still write. Still share. Still connect.
If you’ve read this far, maybe you’re searching for your own idle moment.
When you find it, savor it.
Because life — real life — is hidden in those quiet pauses.
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