"Money, Money, Money, Must Be Funny"

#253

(Title reference: ABBA song)

Past vs Present

I used to count every rupee. Literally. Budget groceries, skip unnecessary coffees, debate whether premium tomatoes were worth the three extra rupees. It was my default. Then I moved to Seattle, got a better job, and suddenly I was ordering $16 salads without flinching.

And I wondered how my relationship with money changed rather easily.

When Comfort Becomes Invisible

In "The Psychology of Money," Morgan Housel says: discipline isn't about willpower. It's about the constraints that force you to decide. I didn't choose frugality. Scarcity chose it for me. But somewhere in that forced discipline was something real—the habit of deciding.

I went from "I can't spend" to "I can spend." Sounds like freedom. Except it's not the same as choosing.

When you can't spend, every rupee has weight. You have to decide. But when you can spend, that forcing mechanism disappears. Suddenly you're just... spending.

My first Whole Foods trip made it clear. The sheer number of choices for every single thing! Rainbow carrots. Five types of tomatoes. Zero budget pressure forcing my hand. So I just picked things. No decision. No intentionality. Just abundance doing the thinking for me.

And it wasn't peer pressure that changed my spending. It was simpler than that. Rupees became dollars. Seattle's baseline cost of living is just higher than India's. A salad that costs 250-300 rupees here costs $16. That wasn't a choice. That's just geography.

But somewhere in that shift, I lost track of why I was spending. I thought I valued frugality. Turns out, I valued something else: the ability to choose.

What Actually Matters

Having more green bills doesn't mean you upgrade your entire life. Your apartment doesn't need to be fancier. Your wardrobe doesn't need a complete overhaul. Your baseline doesn't need to skyrocket.

But it does mean you get to add a little oomph. An extra coffee without guilt. A book you've been eyeing. A meal that tastes good. Small things. Within means. But chosen.

It's about treating yourself to what "sparks joy"— experiences that create memories. Things that matter.

I still practice minimalism. I'm just not obsessed anymore. Under $20-30? I don't shy away. Bigger purchases? I still research deeply, discuss with my husband, think it through. But I'm not torturing myself over every single decision anymore.

When I budget these days, I round up smaller amounts. It makes tracking more seamless.

The freedom isn't about having more. It's about getting to decide what matters to you—and actually investing in it.

That's the self-care part. Not the deprivation. The choosing.

ARK via Humor and Laughter

#252 

ARK = "Act of Random Kindness" (adapted from the movie Evan Almighty, where it plays on Noah's “Ark”).

One way to practice self-care is via either making someone else laugh or laughing heartily at someone else's attempted or actual humor. Either way, it's win-win. You both end up leaving with a higher bout of endorphins within you.

Last week, when I went for a blood test — or as it is called in the United States, a blood "draw," since test could evoke negative emotions about examinations — I had the following conversation with the doctor's assistant. He was an Italian 6'3" man who'd been working there for 8 months with 12 years of medical experience overall. He'd asked me to stay hydrated the previous night and not eat anything at all. I'm generally obedient about these things, so when he asked me to outstretch my arm and ball my palm into a fist, my green vein shone brightly over the depressed area on the inside of my elbow.

"Wow look at that vein popping! That's looks amazing."

"Thank you! There's a compliment I haven't received before. I've even been told I have nice eyebrows, but veins? That's new."

I beam because I like to say funny things and did my usual thing: attempt to make a serious situation more lighthearted because why not.

He chuckled nervously, probably realized what he said, turning pink with embarrassment, and slightly defensively, went, "That wasn't a pickup line, I swear. I just meant it's going to make the blood draw a lot easier. Looks like you drank enough water, good job."

No idea why he felt he had to justify, but I said it was okay and we continued to have a chat about our respective backgrounds — where we came from and how we adjusted to a vastly different lifestyle having each moved here rather recently. We shared a few more laughs, and I went on my way, not even having felt the prick of the needle — thanks endorphins!

"Laughter is the shortest distance between two people." — Victor Borge

This got me thinking: if we can, in our own small ways, strike up conversations with people we meet every day, it's the least we can do to make anyone's day just a little bit better. The nurse on their feet all shift. The barista earning minimum wage showing up at 7AM to make your customized coffee order. The person sitting next to you on the bus. 

We lose nothing. We both end up hopefully gaining something. And it subconsciously puts you in a better mood, at least for the next few minutes.

Self-care via caring for others through your words. A small conversation. A genuine laugh. Both of you leaving a little lighter. That's the ARK.

"Coffeequences"

#251

The "Bitter" Truth

Over the years, I've had an on-again-off-again relationship with coffee. From being someone who drank one cup every morning—filter coffee, freshly brewed decoction in whole milk—to giving it up entirely, to navigating a mixed bag, I've had my fair share of dealing with the consequences of drinking varying amounts, brewing methods, and intensities of coffee. Or as I like to call it: "Coffeequences."

After quite a bit of experimentation, here's what I learned: Coffee doesn't affect everyone in the same way.

The Science Behind the Jitters

Here's how caffeine actually works: it blocks adenosine receptors in your brain. Adenosine is the chemical that builds up during the day and tells your brain you're tired. By blocking it, caffeine artificially keeps you alert. When you use it regularly, your body compensates by producing more adenosine receptors and reducing sensitivity to caffeine. So when you quit cold turkey—like I did early last year—you suddenly have all this adenosine hitting receptors with nothing blocking it. The result: two weeks of daily headaches, mid-morning crashes, sluggishness, and almost-siestas in the afternoons. I faced all these classic withdrawal symptoms.

But here's what happened after I pushed through: a tremendous improvement in my sleep quality. Deep, uninterrupted sleep cycles with perfect REM. Real slumber. The kind where I woke up not feeling like I needed more coffee just to exist. I also observed calmer sensations in my body overall—anxiety and fewer bouts of hyperactivity.

And thus I realized I don't need to be caffeine-free forever. I just needed to understand what it was doing to me and manage accordingly.

My Current State

Nowadays I don't fight it. Sometimes I have instant coffee mixed into my protein shake—less caffeine than brewed coffee (roughly 60-90mg versus 95-200mg), slower absorption because it's mixed with food, way fewer jitters. Sometimes I skip it entirely. No guilt either way. On days when I'm already nervous or tense about something, I avoid it altogether.

The real "coffeequence" isn't about the coffee itself. It's about listening to your body when it tells you something isn't working. It's about finding your own sweet spot instead of forcing yourself into someone else's routine. It's about knowing yourself well enough to make choices that actually serve you.

Self-care looks different for everyone. For me, it's knowing when to say yes to the morning ritual and when to say no.

2026: Showing up for myself

#250

What a year 2025 was —a roller coaster that left me dizzy, questioning, and somewhere between exhausted and exhilarated, the kind of year where you emerge realizing you've lived through more than you initially thought, where the ups and downs weren't evenly distributed but clustered in unexpected ways, where some months felt like they contained entire seasons of growth while others felt like I was just treading water, going through the motions without really being present.

The latter half of the year brought a lot more introspection —what drained me, what restored and healed me, how often I was running on empty without even realizing it, and how those moments of clarity, however fleeting, were pointing me toward something I needed to actually address.

As I step into 2026, I hope to make something intentional out of those late-year realizations. Self-care has become such a loaded term—wrapped in expensive candles and productivity culture—but what I mean is simpler and harder: actually caring for myself with the same thoughtfulness I extend to loved ones. Mind, body, soul.

I chose three themes to focus on this year with higher frequency and more awareness:

Meditation: Insight Timer has been my anchor. Ten-to-fifteen minutes a day, completely free, and it creates space to notice what's happening inside instead of just reacting to everything outside. It may not always fix everything immediately, but gives me long-term gains.

CrossFit: A real game-changer I discovered only six months ago. What struck me is that it's genuinely for anyone. I've never been consistent with any kind of fitness before, always found reasons to quit, citing lack of motivation, but this turned out different. You see wins almost immediately. Heavier lifts. Faster times. These small victories stack up, and suddenly you're motivated to come back because you're actually stronger. Thanks to CrossFit, I automatically eat better and sleep better. It has become my - what James Clear calls - "keystone" habit. A virtuous cycle.

Conscious hobbies: Reading and playing the guitar for 10 minutes a day remain my constant. Last year I read over 80 books and learnt to play over 20 songs. This year I have 20 books already lined up across eclectic categories: fiction, non-fiction, memoirs, economics, self-improvement, spirituality, young adult novels, novellas. Books are how I make sense of the world, how I borrow other people's wisdom and experience, and find comfort in this relaxing activity. Guitar is how I scratch the itch in my brain, do hard things, and push myself through deliberate discomfort to achieve growth and learning. A stretch goal I've taken up this year is to resume blogging. A year-long hiatus has given me ample space to think, and also fodder for new content!

Why these themes this year? 

The clarity from meditation helps me move more mindfully. I use the adrenaline and momentum from CrossFit to supercharge my day and feel energetic. Books give me frameworks and reasons why any of these matter in the first place. Guitar and blogging soothe me and help me find inner peace as well. And finally, all of these tie back to my 2026 overarching theme: Self-care.

2026 for me isn't about becoming someone different. It's about showing up more consistently for who I actually am—and it starts right here, with this post.