5 Things That Are Softening Me Lately

I’ve been noticing something subtle in my days — a slight loosening, a breath I didn’t know I was holding finally letting go. And I realized, I’m softening.

Not in a dramatic, everything-is-changing kind of way. But in the way tea slowly steeps, light shifts across a room, or silence begins to feel less empty and more safe.

Lately, there have been little things — small rituals, quiet moments — that have made me feel more like myself again. Things that are softening the edges I didn’t even know had hardened.

Here are five of them.

1. Making chai slowly, without rushing

There was a time when even making tea felt like something to check off the list. A step between two tasks. But lately, I’ve been slowing it down.

I stand by the stove, watching the water come to a gentle boil. I drop in cardamom pods, just slightly crushed. I listen to the swirl of milk meeting tea leaves, the small hissing bubbles. And for those few minutes, I'm not thinking of what’s next. I’m just there.

Making chai slowly has become a kind of meditation — not loud or grand, but quietly grounding. Like I’m reminding myself that it’s okay to take up time. Even for something simple.

2. Writing with no purpose

There’s writing I do for work. Writing I do for others. And then there’s the kind of writing that comes out when no one’s watching, when no one is expecting anything from me.

Lately, I’ve been giving myself space to write without structure — journal pages filled with half-thoughts, lists that turn into memories, poems that make no sense but still feel true. I don’t worry about being articulate or wise. I just write.

It feels like pressing a hand to my own heart. Like listening inward. And in a world full of noise, that kind of listening is rare — and necessary.

3. Sunlight on the floor

It sounds almost silly to write this down, but it’s real.

Some afternoons, the light slants across the room just right. It forms a small golden patch on the floor, near the bed or by the chair. And without thinking too hard, I sit in it. For no reason. Not to take a photo. Not to prove anything.

I just sit. Warm, still, present.

There’s something about sunlight like that — unbothered, honest — that reminds me how life moves whether I chase it or not. It brings me back into my body in a way that nothing else does.

4. Listening to soft music while doing nothing else

We’re used to multitasking. Music is usually background — for working, cleaning, studying. But lately, I’ve been listening to music just for the sake of listening.

I’ll lie back, close my eyes, and let the melody move through me. Sometimes it’s old Hindi ghazals. Sometimes it’s an instrumental that feels like memory. And sometimes it’s a soft song in a language I don’t even understand, but it calms me anyway.

That act — of doing just one thing, especially something that asks nothing of me — is healing. It tells my nervous system, “You’re safe here.”

5. Letting myself rest without earning it

This one is ongoing. And probably the hardest.

There’s a voice in my head that still whispers, “You haven’t done enough to deserve rest.” And I’m learning to quiet that voice — not by arguing with it, but by ignoring it and resting anyway.

Some days, I nap in the afternoon. I pause work before finishing my to-do list. I let myself scroll, daydream, wander, waste time — and I try not to feel guilty.

Rest isn’t something to earn. It’s something we’re allowed. And the more I allow it, the more I soften into the truth of it.

None of these things are particularly extraordinary. But together, they’ve been shifting something within me — reminding me that slowness, gentleness, and softness are not weaknesses. They are survival.

If you’re going through a season of softening too, I hope you honour it. Even if it’s small. Even if no one else sees it.
You do. And that’s enough.

— From someone writing in the calm

With quiet words,

TQJ