I’ve always been someone who liked having a plan. Not a rigid, every-minute-mapped-out kind of plan—but a general sense of what was ahead, where we were headed, and what we were building toward. Especially in recent years, Eric and I had started dreaming about what life could look like once the busy years slowed down a bit.

We thought we had time...

Some days, I can laugh at a meme, cry in the shower, check off a to-do list, and miss Eric so deeply it physically aches—all before noon. It’s kinda disorienting. But it’s also how I know I’m still here, still feeling.

That’s the thing nobody really prepares you for: how often conflicting emotions show up holding hands. You can be grateful and overwhelmed. Hopeful and heartbroken. Healing and still hurting.

That part—holding two truths at once—feels like a quiet superpower. One we’re not taught growing up, but end up learning when life hands us something heavy. It becomes a survival skill. A lifeline...

Many of us find ourselves burdened with a never-ending list of "shoulds," such as the need to be more productive or lead a healthier lifestyle. These expectations often originate from society, family, or our inner critic rather than from our genuine desires. By pausing and questioning the source of these "shoulds," we can liberate ourselves from unnecessary pressures and live more authentically.

Instead of accepting these societal pressures, we can reframe them to align with our true needs and values. For example, instead of feeling compelled to work out daily, we can choose ways to move our bodies that genuinely feel good. By shifting focus from external expectations to what genuinely serves our well-being, wellness becomes a supportive practice rather than a burden.

Challenging the spiral of unrealistic "shoulds" involves recognizing what's genuinely important to us. By asking "Says who?" we can start to dismantle the self-imposed pressures that don't serve us. Ultimately, this shift allows us to pursue a life that feels more authentic and fulfilling, free from the constraints of unnecessary expectations.

The blog post delves into the misunderstood value of "doing nothing" and how society has conditioned us to equate busyness with worth. It explores the struggle of disengaging from constant productivity and embracing downtime, emphasizing that rest is crucial for mental health, creative thinking, and emotional balance. The author highlights how technology and the fear of boredom or confronting one's thoughts contribute to the difficulty of simply existing without distractions.

Throughout the post, the author experiments with strategies to embrace downtime, such as reframing rest as an essential activity, starting with small increments of time, and engaging in low-effort activities like cloud-watching or sipping tea. By using timers and allowing the mind to wander without an agenda, the author finds a balance that helps to overcome the discomfort of inactivity. The narrative encourages readers to challenge the societal norms that glorify busyness and recognize the importance of this self-care practice.

The take-home message is clear: doing nothing is not laziness but a necessary reset that benefits both mind and body. The author calls readers, especially fellow essential oil enthusiasts, to share their experiences with embracing downtime and the role oils play in enhancing relaxation. By normalizing the practice of simply being, the post advocates for a life that includes moments of pause and reflection, which can be enriched with the use of essential oils.

Since experiencing loss, I've noticed that engaging in activities like watching TV or revisiting shared interests without my loved one feels daunting. Shows, trips, and hobbies we once cherished together aren't the same without him. This realization isn’t merely about reluctance toward these activities themselves but a broader hesitance to relive those memories alone.

Faced with the idea of enjoying these experiences by myself, I often ask, can I truly enjoy them without him? This journey has taught me that moving forward doesn't mean forgetting—it's about blending cherished memories into my current life. Grief ebbs and flows, guiding me between moments of sadness and joy, reminding me it's okay to make space for memories while continuing to grow.

I've found solace in revisiting shared joys in smaller, manageable ways—like taking short drives or exploring history from home. These gentle steps help me feel connected without being overwhelmed, honoring the past while moving forward. It’s not about recreating what was, but about keeping the connection alive in a way that suits where I am now, reminding me and others that it’s fine to take our time rediscovering joy.