Sunday Slow Diary

Some weeks feel like marathons. The kind where you’re juggling shift work, errands, deadlines, and personal commitments—and still trying to smile through it all. This week was exactly that for me. But somehow, in between all the noise and necessary responsibilities, I found tiny moments of calm: a short walk, a warm meal, a meaningful conversation, a few deep breaths. And in those pauses, I was reminded—life doesn’t always give us wide open spaces to rest. Sometimes, we have to carve them out ourselves.

As always, I’m showing up here with a cup of quiet and a few honest questions I’ve asked myself this week. Maybe they’re the same ones you’ve needed to ask, too.

How did I survive this week?

That was the first question I asked myself this morning while sipping coffee in my pajamas, hair unbrushed, Millie curled beside me like she, too, was recovering from the chaos of the past few days. The truth is—I don’t fully know. It was one of those weeks that ran faster than I could catch up with. Appointments. Work. Sudden shifts in plans. Messages left on read. Groceries bought but not cooked. Days that bled into nights with hardly a pause in between.

But then I asked another question, one I’ve been learning to ask more often:

“What did I do well this week?”

And the answers surprised me.

I made time—even just a sliver of it—for myself. One night, after coming home late and nearly convincing myself that I had no energy left, I stood in the kitchen and made soup from scratch. It wasn’t fancy. But it was warm. And it reminded me that feeding myself—properly, lovingly—is also an act of self-respect.

I also answered a message I had been avoiding. A friend reached out, and though I didn’t have the perfect words or a long paragraph to offer, I said, “I’m here.” That small effort held more weight than I realized.

I did the laundry even if it took two days to fold it.

I rested even when the guilt knocked loudly at my door.

“Was it a productive week?”

Not in the way I used to measure it. I didn’t cross off all the items on my list. I didn’t clean every corner of the house. I didn’t finish the book I meant to finish. But I showed up—to my life, to my emotions, to the needs of the moment. And maybe that’s enough. Maybe that’s more than enough.

“Did I slow down at all?”

Yes. Barely, but yes. There was one evening I sat by the window and watched the sky change colors—how it moved from a tired blue to a soft gold. I didn’t take a photo. I didn’t tell anyone. I just watched it. And for a few quiet minutes, I remembered what it felt like to not chase anything at all.

“What am I grateful for today?”

The resilience of my body, even when my mind is weary. The way Millie knows exactly when to come sit beside me. Friends who understand that silence doesn’t mean absence. A soft bed. A cup of coffee I forgot to finish, still warm enough to comfort. The grace that carries me even when I’m not aware it’s holding me.

“What do I need more of next week?”

Slowness. Not just in movement, but in thought. I want to stop rushing through the little things. I want to taste my food without distractions. To walk slower on my way home. To write a sentence and pause to feel it. I want to be kinder to myself in the waiting. In the becoming.

“And what’s the biggest lesson this week taught me?”

That I don’t need to prove my worth by how much I’ve done. That even in weeks where I feel like I’ve barely kept it together, I am still allowed to be proud of myself. That surviving, showing up, and remembering to breathe—those are victories, too.

So if you’re reading this and feeling like your week was anything but impressive, let me ask you this:

What small thing did you do that deserves quiet applause?

Did you get out of bed despite the heaviness?

Did you reach out? Stay kind? Take a break?

Celebrate that.

Write it down.

Let it count.

Because it does.

Because you do.

And as this Sunday slows the pace of the world, I remind myself that I don’t have to do it all. I just have to keep choosing what matters. Gently. Slowly. One breath, one honest answer at a time.

Here’s to the week ahead.

To more tiny pauses, more grace-filled moments, and the permission to begin again.

With warmth,

Anj 💛