Sometimes the smallest, most ordinary events seem to ripple with deeper meaning.
Dropping off my son’s boots today shouldn’t have felt significant, yet somehow it did. Maybe it was unnecessary—maybe they could have picked them up from my house—but part of me just wanted to get it done. I don’t like loose ends. Once something’s finished, I can breathe. Maybe that’s a hint of ADHD, or maybe it’s a trait inherited from my family, this compulsion to tidy up life’s little edges.

Afterwards, I found myself eating Sour Patch Kids one after another, like I couldn’t stop. It hit me that I wasn’t just chasing sugar—I was chasing connection. My body often speaks before my mind does, and when I reach for something sweet, it’s rarely about hunger. It’s about wanting warmth, contact, belonging. I’m grateful I have therapy today; sometimes that space feels like the only place where I can fully land.

The Search for Meaning

I’ve been noticing how, as an INFJ, I naturally find meaning in everything—sometimes too much, but lately I’ve started accepting that it’s just who I am. Meaning gives me ground. It’s how I orient myself in the world. Even something like redecorating my son’s room feels full of purpose. It’s not just a task—it’s an act of love, a symbol of creating beauty and safety in our shared space.

But then there’s the world outside my walls, where meaning can clash with misunderstanding. Like the confrontation with my neighbour—him raising his voice, me trying to stay calm. He wanted things done his way, without listening. That dynamic stirred something deeper in me: the old wound of feeling like I’m always “doing life wrong.” It’s not really about him. It’s about all the times I’ve had to twist myself to fit others’ expectations, and the quiet rebellion of saying no more.

Attraction and Boundaries

I also caught myself thinking about my ex—the physical attraction that still flickers, even when I know there’s no emotional resonance left. It’s strange how the body remembers. That draw used to confuse me, but now I see it with compassion. Of course it was hard to let go of someone I found so magnetic. But I also know now that chemistry isn’t the same as compatibility.

I think she’s chosen someone who offers her a sense of safety through dependency, and maybe that’s what she needs right now. I used to take that personally, but not anymore. I left when my needs were no longer being met—not out of ego, but because I had to protect the small part of me that still wanted to grow. That was my boundary, even if it took years to find it.

Learning to Digest, Not Just Analyze

Sometimes I wonder why I still analyze everything. Maybe it’s just how I process life. My mind organizes chaos into coherence, and when I understand something, I can finally rest. But I’m learning that not every feeling needs to be figured out. Some feelings just want to be felt.

Lately, when I notice myself spiraling into analysis, I pause and ask:

“What does my heart need right now?”

Usually, it’s not another explanation. It’s presence. It’s a walk, or music, or a quiet tea in the evening. Those moments don’t erase pain—they help digest it.

Closing

So maybe this week isn’t about productivity or progress at all.
Maybe it’s about honouring how deeply I experience things—how even a packet of sweets, a neighbour’s tone, or an empty afternoon can become a mirror for my soul. That’s not overthinking. That’s being alive.

I don’t need to apologize for finding meaning in the everyday.
It’s the thread that weaves my world together—and somehow, it always leads me home.