Feeling exhausted is an understatement. "Tired" barely scratches the surface.
And then there's that phrase, "I just need some space." It's like a mantra in my head, a desperate plea to carve out some time to untangle the mess of thoughts in my mind.
But let's face it: finding that elusive space to prioritize, strategize, and breathe feels like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. It's just not happening.
Then came a moment of clarity, unexpected yet profound. I found myself sitting across from an astrologer for a Birth Chart Reading (seriously, give it a try!). Their advice? Take a step back, embrace silence, and let myself regroup.
They said even my Sunday sermons echoed the same sentiment—silence is golden. And it seems like every TV show currently features characters embarking on solo journeys of self-discovery. From "Euphoria" to "Inventing Anna," the message is clear: solitude breeds insight.
But in a world that never sleeps, where social media feeds relentlessly scroll, and our minds refuse to switch off, finding that sacred space feels like chasing a mirage.
Then came a wake-up call I never saw coming—getting laid off from my job.
Suddenly, I realized that the very thing consuming all my space was the job I poured my heart and soul into. You know the drill—working overtime, stealing moments between tasks, and sacrificing lunch breaks to keep the wheel turning.
But this relentless pursuit was taking its toll—not just on me but also on my relationships. Who wants to hang out with someone whose only topic of conversation is their job?
Yet, I couldn't stop. I had something to prove—to myself, mostly. I was determined to succeed, even sacrificing every last inch of my personal space.
But deep down, I knew this couldn't be it. Life couldn't just be about work and more work. There had to be more.
So, I embarked on a journey to redefine my relationship with space. I craved it like oxygen, yet struggled to incorporate it into my daily grind.
First step? Setting boundaries with social media. I've become a master at limiting my daily scroll time—though prying Twitter from my hands is a battle in itself!
Next up is taming smartphone addiction. Screen time limits? Check.
And then, there's my sanctuary—a designated spot in my home where I can retreat, sans phone, with a cup of tea and my thoughts for company.
But perhaps the most challenging part of this journey? Giving myself grace. For someone who's always been their worst critic, embracing stillness and doing nothing feels like a rebellion against everything I've ever known.
Yet, amidst the chaos of a life lived at breakneck speed, I'm learning to find gratitude in these small moments of peace. Because, in the end, it's not about the destination—it's about the journey.
To be continued.