I’ve learned something recently. Actually… no. Let me be honest. I’ve known for a long time, but I’ve learned that I need to breathe. Not in the dramatic “remember to inhale and exhale” kind of way. I mean I need to stop. Sit down. Even if it’s only for five minutes. Let myself exist without immediately thinking about the next thing that needs to get done.
And that has been harder than I expected. Because my brain is constantly running. Dinner needs to be started. The laundry needs to be folded. The dishes are still in the sink. Don’t forget tomorrow. You should really…
The list never ends.
The funny thing is, taking ten or fifteen minutes for myself doesn’t magically make those chores disappear. Dinner might be a little later. The laundry might wait another hour. But you know what? It still gets done.
The world doesn’t end because I sat on my porch for a little while. That realization has been… freeing. I’m slowly learning that I need hobbies. Not because they’re productive. Not because they make money. Not because they’re useful. But because they make me happy.
I’ve spent so much of my life taking care of everyone else that somewhere along the way, I forgot that I was allowed to enjoy things too. So I’ve been carving out a tiny little space that’s just mine. Some days I still get frazzled. Some days I don’t remember to stop until the evening when I’m completely exhausted. Some days my mind screams at me that I should be doing something “more important.”
But I’m getting better.
Because the chores will still be there tomorrow. The laundry certainly isn’t going anywhere. Trust me. It’ll wait. Meanwhile… My plant babies need me. My little hermit crab needs me. And maybe—just maybe—I need them too.
One of my favorite places lately has become my front porch. I’m slowly turning it into my own little oasis. It’s nowhere near finished yet, but that’s part of the fun. Every paycheck seems to bring another plant, another pot, another little decoration that makes the space feel more peaceful.
My houseplants are absolutely thriving outside this summer. They’re soaking up the heat and humidity like they’ve been waiting all year for it. Honestly, I know they’re going to resent me when cooler weather comes and I have to drag everyone back inside. I can already hear the silent protests.
But for now? They’re exploding with growth. Leaves are getting bigger. New stems keep appearing. Half of them are already begging for larger pots. I know repotting season is coming, and I can’t wait. Now all I need is the perfect chair. Something comfortable enough that I can sit there with my morning coffee—or after work—and just…
exist.
No phone.
No checklist.
No rushing.
Just me.
Breathing.
Watching the leaves move in the breeze.
Oh, did I mention I apparently have tenants now? I was watering one of my Boston ferns when a bird suddenly exploded out of it. I nearly watered myself instead. After my heart started beating again, I cautiously peeked inside the fern, hoping the nest was empty. It wasn’t. There are three tiny little eggs nestled inside.
So…
Congratulations to me, I guess. I’m a grandmother now. That also means watering that fern has become a covert military operation. Every watering session now requires strategy, patience, and the stealth of a secret agent. Knowing my luck, this will probably become another installment in my Battle Report series.
Then there’s my newest obsession. My hermit crab. Or, as I lovingly call him… My little sand goblin. I have fallen down the hermit crab rabbit hole. No. Scratch that. I’ve fallen down every hermit crab rabbit hole.
Tank upgrades.
Humidity.
Shells.
Nutrition.
Substrate.
Decor.
Species.
Behavior.
Somehow I’ve learned more about hermit crabs in a few months than I ever thought possible. I’m almost finished building the topper for the main tank. I’m constantly making new decorations. I’m always rearranging something. And can we talk about shell prices for a second? Why are shells so expensive? Apparently my hermie has expensive taste.
Murex shells.
Only the finest real estate will do. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to find ones that don’t cost as much as my grocery bill. He’s bougie. There’s simply no other explanation.
Then there’s my writing. Even if I only get five minutes.
Five minutes to doodle.
To write.
To read a chapter of a book.
To jot down an idea before it disappears.
Those few minutes breathe life back into me. I come home knowing my plants are waiting. My little hermit crab is waiting. My notebook is waiting. My stories are waiting. And for the first time in a long time… I’m looking forward to coming home for more than just sleeping before work starts all over again.
I love it here.
Now, don’t misunderstand me. This doesn’t mean I love my family any less. I love them with everything I have. But loving your family and loving yourself aren’t opposites. They’re supposed to exist together.
Sometimes you have to be a little selfish. Not selfish in the hurtful sense. Selfish enough to say, “I’m going to sit outside for twenty minutes.”
“I’m going to water my plants.”
“I’m going to write.”
“I’m going to read.”
“I’m going to simply exist.”
Because if we spend every ounce of ourselves taking care of everyone else… Eventually, there’s nothing left of us. I’m still learning. Some days are easier than others. Sometimes I forget. Sometimes the day wins. Sometimes I don’t sit down until bedtime. But at least I’m trying. That’s the part that matters.
There was a time when I wouldn’t have even considered making myself a priority. Now I’m at least attempting to. Progress isn’t perfect. It’s messy. It’s inconsistent. It’s full of forgotten breaks and unfinished cups of coffee.
But it’s progress.
So maybe old dogs really can learn new tricks. I’m grateful that I’ve found hobbies again. I’m grateful that I’ve found things I’m passionate about again. I’m grateful that I’m slowly learning that taking care of myself isn’t selfish.
It’s necessary.
And maybe that’s what breathing really means. Not just filling your lungs. But making room in your life for the things that remind you who you are.
Now, if you’ll excuse me…
I have a thirsty Monstera that’s waiting for me.
-Bella Imperia
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