Self-Care Sunday: Reflecting Through California’s Heartache
This weekend blended two themes—Stillness Saturday and Self-Care Sunday—into a delicate balancing act of reflection and restlessness. Heartbreak. That’s the word that seems to capture it all. The heaviness of the past few days has been overwhelming—not just for the fires, but for everything happening in the world right now. I’ve been following the devastating updates on the fires in Los Angeles. The destruction—lives and memories lost—feels like a weight on my chest. I’ve never even been to L.A., but what’s happening there—the destruction, the loss, the chaos—hits deeply.
Yesterday, I moved through the day with a high level of low activity—scrolling, absorbing, and feeling a deep sorrow for people I’ll never meet. One bright spot was when I forced myself to leave the comfort of my sherpa blanket to face the world. I made a stop by White Flower Cake Shoppe and picked up the most amazing lavender macaron. Deep down, part of me was thinking that lavender is good for the mood. I already spray it on my linens before bed to help me relax. Why not consume it?
I’ve watched as families lost lifetimes of memories, wildlife and pets faced unimaginable fates, and the looming uncertainty of “what’s next?” has weighed on everyone. It’s okay to not be okay, I remind myself. But today, as I went through my Sunday rituals—hair coloring (because I’m not ready to face the gray), picking up my bi-weekly banana walnut muffin from Goldie’s Donuts, and running errands—I couldn’t shake this underlying feeling. Something was “off.”
While my color was setting, I even said out loud, “I don’t know if I’m depressed.” Maybe I’m not, but maybe I’m in denial. This feeling—overwhelmed, burned out, heartbroken—it’s not new. Seven years of running a business has taken its toll. I love what I do—working with kids and supporting families is my calling—but it’s also exhausting. My friends keep telling me to talk to someone, and maybe they’re right.
This heartbreak that I'm feeling is not just for the fires, but for everything that feels overwhelming in the world right now. The past five days have felt unfathomable, like a scene from a war zone. The stories of families losing everything, insurance companies dropping fire coverage, and the toll on wildlife make me wonder—what is happening to us?
Even with this heaviness, life goes on. For dinner, I defrosted a portion of the most amazing grape leaves made by my sister-in-law’s mother—a taste of comfort amidst the chaos. Her cooking, filled with flavors of Syria, brings comfort to my daughter. For the rest of us, I made sloppy joes and tater tots. Not exactly gourmet, but it fit the mood of the day—simple, easy, and enough. It’s okay to not go all out every day.
And yet, I’m in a funk. How do I shift out of this space? Is it necessary if I’m still getting through the motions of the day? It’s okay to not be okay, but it’s also okay to want to feel better. I’m someone who thrives on clarity, but lately, I’ve been swimming in shades of gray. Maybe that’s part of the problem. I’m moody—is it menopause, heartbreak, or the result of years of putting everything and everyone else first?
As I sat in my car this evening, meditating while my daughter ran on the treadmill, I realized something: I need to make myself a priority. My daily walks, which I’ve neglected due to the cold, directly correlate with my mood. And yet, I’m struggling to find the motivation to step outside or hit the gym. How do I get back to what makes me feel alive?
Spring break planning looms in the back of my mind. I want to create fun memories for my family, but I’m unsure what that looks like this year. Disneyland and the San Diego Zoo were on my list, but now I’m not so sure. I want something relaxing, with opportunities for water activities for my daughter, sports for my son, and exploration for me and my husband. But I also want it to be easy—no 3 a.m. wake-ups for flights or overly crowded destinations.
Here are places on my radar this spring. What do you all think? I'm currently leaning towards Charleston, Memphis or Nashville.
Nashville, TN – Music, culture, and family-friendly attractions.
Austin, TX – Great food, outdoor activities, and live music.
Denver, CO – Mountains, outdoor activities, and family-friendly attractions.
New Orleans, LA – History, culture, and unique family experiences.
Atlanta, GA – Parks, museums, and a vibrant city vibe.
Dallas, TX – Diverse activities for every family member.
Phoenix, AZ – Desert hikes, pools, and stunning scenery.
Albuquerque, NM – Unique culture, scenic landscapes, and a relaxed vibe.
Charleston, SC – Coastal charm and outdoor adventures.
Memphis, TN – Music, history, and family fun.
As I write this, I realize how much I crave joy—not just for myself but for my family and the families I work with. Helping people find their joy has always been my purpose. But how can I do that in a way that doesn’t leave me carrying the weight of the world?
2025 can’t be a repeat of years past. My health, my happiness, my walks—they need to take priority. It’s not about resolutions but about intention. I want to build a life that’s joyful and fulfilling, not just for me but for those around me. And maybe, just maybe, that starts with a walk tomorrow—even if it’s cold.
Maya Angelou once said, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.” Her wisdom calls to mind the power of music to help us reset and reframe. For me, a slow jazz melody—perhaps Harry Connick Jr.’s “It Had to Be You”—feels like the perfect companion to moments of reflection like this. Music and her words remind me that showing up for myself is a step forward, even when I’m not feeling my best.
Sometimes self-care isn’t about elaborate plans or perfect meals. Sometimes, it’s just about showing up for yourself, even when you’re feeling off. Today, I’m grateful for my home, the food I have to eat, and a family who puts up with my dinner-time moodiness. Tomorrow marks the start of a new habit: writing daily notes of gratitude. It’s a small but powerful step to ground myself in the good and meaningful parts of life. And today, I showed up. That counts for something.