September was not particularly eventful. There were no grand stories or moments that seemed to demand a place in the diary. Still, a few things happened quietly in the background, and I have a feeling they may stay with me for some time.

One of them was a period when I found myself completely drained while taking care of my little one, who happened to be unwell. Having my husband at home should have made things a little easier, but somehow, I still felt as though most of it was falling on me. It was one of those moments when even the smallest things could feel overwhelming. The following day, I decided to tell him how I had been feeling. He listened, accepted what I had to say, and promised that he would try to do better. I want to take his words at face value. Whether this will turn out to be a passing promise or something he genuinely intends to change, only time will tell. For now, I choose to hope for the latter.

Perhaps more than anything, the experience reminded me that I need to look after myself, too. There are so many things that seem to rely on me that I cannot simply keep pushing myself until there is nothing left. So, this month, I started taking my vitamins more seriously again. Exercise, on the other hand, is still something I am trying to make room for. Finding the time is not particularly easy when everyday life already seems to leave me pleasantly, or perhaps not so pleasantly, exhausted.

Thankfully, I still have something that helps me feel like myself again: gardening. I continue to steal little moments whenever I can to tend to my vegetables and flowers, even though the space I have is hardly generous. Perhaps it suits me because I have always been rather introverted. Being around people can be surprisingly tiring; there are conversations to follow, things to say, reactions to consider. Even when nothing is particularly wrong, it can still take something out of me. Plants ask for none of that. I can simply watch them grow, water them, move them around, experiment with their growing medium, and quietly wonder what they will become. There is something comforting about that kind of company. It gives my mind somewhere else to go for a while.

Of course, gardening has also given me its fair share of frustrations. Not every seed I have planted has been willing to meet me halfway. Of the ten rosella seedlings I started with, only two survived. Some of the flowers never really got going, and even the sunflower seeds a coworker gave me failed to sprout. At times, I cannot help wondering whether my mother was onto something when she said I had hot hands as though whatever I planted was somehow destined not to make it. 

Yet, despite all the failures, I still love it. There is a quiet satisfaction in putting something into the soil, tending to it, starting over when it does not work, and eventually seeing a tiny bit of green emerge. Perhaps the joy is not necessarily in getting everything right, but simply in having something to care for.

Another small milestone this month was opening Shopee again after more than a year of deliberately staying away from it. When our finances were tight, I avoided the app altogether. I knew that browsing could easily turn into an unnecessary purchase, and I did not particularly trust myself around a long list of tempting things I did not actually need. So, for quite some time, I decided that not looking was the safer option.

Then October came into view, along with my little one's birthday. I finally had a good reason to open Shopee again and start looking for things to put together for his birthday goodie bags. And, unexpectedly, I had fun. I enjoyed browsing through the options, comparing prices, working out how many I needed, and waiting for the packages to arrive one by one. But the best part was probably imagining that all those little things would eventually become a surprise for my little one. This may be the first time his birthday is celebrated at school with his friends, and somehow, that makes the preparation feel a little more meaningful. It is only a collection of small things in a little bag, after all. But knowing that they are being prepared with him in mind makes the whole process feel rather special.

Then, as September was drawing to a close, work brought another change. My team began moving to a 24/7 working system, with three shifts: 7 a.m. to 3 p.m., 3 p.m. to 11 p.m., and 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. I was assigned to the first shift for the final week of September. It may sound like nothing more than a change in working hours, but it changed the rhythm of my days more than I expected. The mornings became a race against the clock. I had to wake up earlier, get my little one ready earlier, and make sure everything was in place before I had to be at my laptop by 7 a.m. There was hardly any room for those quiet moments in the morning that I had grown accustomed to.

And then came 3 p.m. I was technically done with work, but the rest of the day somehow felt difficult to place. It was too early to settle in for the night, yet I was not quite sure what to do with the hours that remained. A nap seemed tempting, but I knew it might interfere with my sleep later. Starting something productive, meanwhile, felt oddly difficult when the day was already well underway. Perhaps I simply have not found my rhythm yet. Gardening is not much help in the afternoon either. My terrace faces west, so the late afternoon sun can be rather relentless. The heat makes it far less appealing to spend time among my plants, even when that is exactly what I would like to do. The shifts are apparently going to change every month, so October will most likely bring me the second shift, from 3 p.m. to 11 p.m. 

I suppose I will have to see how that goes. For now, I am simply hoping that I can keep finding my footing as things change without losing sight of the things that keep me healthy, grounded, and, most importantly, a little bit sane.