The Day She Realized It Wasn't About the Dishes

It wasn’t about the dishes.

I know that now.

But in that moment…
standing in my kitchen…
staring at the sink…

it felt like everything.

The plates were stacked.
Sticky. Forgotten.
One more thing I had to take care of.

And something inside me snapped.

My chest tightened.
My jaw clenched.
My voice sharpened.

Over dishes.

And later, when the house was quiet…
I stood there with my hands on the counter and whispered to myself,

“Why did that hit me so hard?”

Because it wasn’t about the dishes.

It was about feeling alone in it all.

It was about being tired.

It was about the quiet story I’ve been carrying for years —
that I have to hold everything together.

I don’t always realize how thin I’ve been stretched.

I move through my days capable. Responsible. Strong.

But inside?
Inside, I’ve been tender.

Certain tones feel louder.
Certain silences feel heavier.
Certain small things feel… big.

And I’ve been telling myself I’m too sensitive.

Too reactive.

Too emotional.

But the truth?

I’ve just been carrying too much.

That night, instead of replaying the moment and criticizing myself,
I tried something new.

I sat down.

I closed my eyes.

And I asked myself gently,

“What did that remind you of?”

And the answer surprised me.

It reminded me of the times I felt unsupported.

The times I swallowed my needs.

The times I kept going even when I was exhausted.

The dishes weren’t the trigger.

The feeling was.

The old story was.

And when I saw that… something softened.

Of course, that hurt.

Of course, I reacted.

My body wasn’t trying to sabotage me.

It was trying to protect me.

So now, when I feel that tightness in my chest…
that heat rising in my throat…

I pause.

I breathe.

And I ask,

“Is this about now… or about before?”

Sometimes I need rest.

Sometimes I need to say no.

Sometimes I need to admit I’m not okay.

And sometimes…
I just need to put my hand on my heart and remind myself:

“You’re not too sensitive. You’re human.”

Life will always bring dishes.

And comments.

And moments that touch old wounds.

But I don’t have to react the way I used to.

There’s space now.

Space to notice.
Space to understand.
Space to choose.

And that space?

That space feels like freedom.

It was never about the dishes.

It was about learning to listen to myself.

If this story felt familiar…

If you’ve been hard on yourself for being “too reactive,” please know—your reactions are not flaws.
They are messages.

Within the Self-Care Café Membership Experience, we create space for this gentle self-understanding.

A space where you can pause.
Reflect.
Breathe.
And meet yourself with compassion instead of criticism.

Through guided meditations, reflective stories, and soulful self-care practices, you’ll learn how to respond to your triggers with calm clarity… not shame.

You don’t have to figure this out alone.

Come join us at www.selfcarecafe.com.
A seat is waiting for you.

And you are welcome exactly as you are.