My Social Media Break: Finding Joy in Ordinary Days
On a little time away, hot chocolate and the small things that bring us back to ourselves
Dear November, I think this is my pre-fa-la-la time: the bit before the Christmas sparkle properly begins, when I quietly retreat from the outside world with Pride and Prejudice on again and a mug of hot chocolate in my hands.
I took a social media break during the first week of November. Nothing dramatic; I just wanted a little time to live my days without thinking about how to share them. The pause didn’t need to be filled with anything extraordinary. There was cookin, baking (too many brownies involved), reading, old memories - and a little more room to notice the life already around me. So my friend, here are a few pieces of that week.
One day, the postman brought a parcel right to my door, as he often does. He is one of those kind souls who goes the extra mile without needing to announce it. I was making pancakes, so I packed some up for him. A small thank-you, still warm from the pan. It made me think how kindness often arrives quietly: in someone’s patience, their care, the extra effort they could have skipped. And sometimes the best way to say, “I noticed,” is with a little something from the kitchen.
I also came across a mug and fell in love with it. I wasn’t looking for one, but apparently choosing a mug is serious business in this house. The shape, the handle, the colours - it all has to feel right. I know. It is a mug, not a life partner. Still, I have my standards. The children laugh at me, but I think there is something lovely about choosing a small thing simply because it brings you pleasure. Not everything needs to be useful or impressive. Sometimes you just want a mug that feels like your mug. That’s allowed, isn’t it?
Then, one evening, a memory from childhood came back. I was about eight, perhaps, at my grandparents’ home. It was dark outside, and snow shimmered in the moonlight. I had made a tiny home for imaginary mice and went out to feed them gingerbread my grandmother had just taken from the oven. I can still feel the tenderness of it: the snow, the warm gingerbread, that little world I made and believed in for a while. My imaginary mice were very well looked after.
I remembered going into a snowy forest with a basket of carrots and apples for the animals, too. Perhaps I never quite stopped. I still put seeds out for my pigeon friend and leave nuts beside my flowerpot for the squirrels. They had been digging it up, so now there’s a small peace offering. The squirrels seem pleased with the arrangement. The flowerpot is reserving judgement.
I used to draw a castles and mushroom-shaped homes and dream of living in it. I sometimes wondered whether I was born in the wrong century. Perhaps I was simply a child with a fondness for little worlds - and, if I’m honest, I still am. Did you have a world of your own when you were small? A secret place, an imaginary friend, a home you drew again and again? I wonder if we lose some of that wonder because we grow up - or because we are told to be sensible before we have finished imagining.
That week away also reminded me how much I enjoy ordinary days when I let them be ordinary. Cooking, reading, watching a familiar film, having a proper cup of tea - or hot chocolate, in this case. No need to turn every moment into a post or prove that the day counted. Maybe that is what I needed: not a grand reset, just a little space to notice what I already love. The people who are kind. The small comforts I choose for myself. The memories that still feel warm. The squirrels, who remain entirely unconcerned with my flowerpot’s wellbeing.
Dear November, you have reminded me that a life does not need to look extraordinary to feel like mine. Sometimes it is made of pancakes, the right mug, moonlit snow remembered from childhood, and a quiet afternoon with a story I already know by heart.
So, my friend, what small thing has been making you feel at home in your own life lately?
Put the kettle on - or warm the hot chocolate. Find the mug that feels right. Let the squirrels have their nuts, within reason.
With warmth,
Eva
Stay a Little Longer
If you’d like a few quiet minutes for yourself, I’ve shared a new six-minute guided meditation on YouTube: Stop Carrying Everything for 6 Minutes.
You don’t need to fix anything or find all the answers right now. Just sit, breathe and let yourself be supported.
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