Chaos and Butterflies

Dear Soul,

My Monday began with what felt like a full tank of energy, though the “full” part was all in my head. The morning was cold. Even with a hoodie pulled tight, I couldn’t get warm. Two coffees down, a couple of vapes, Prozac swallowed; the ritual of a body trying to catch up to a restless mind.

The plan was simple: just go. Just move forward.

So I set off to learn a new trick: navigating the bus system. And then I watched the first bus pull away while I sat swinging on a tire, distracted by problems that didn’t exist. Reset. Back home for tuna and water. Try again.

Locals showed me a laneway shortcut. Still, I managed to miss the next bus too. Somehow I didn’t mind. Talking to strangers has always been easy for me. I grew up in hospitality; small talk is second nature. What drains me isn’t strangers. It’s closeness. It’s the people who matter most.

On my walk back, I thought I’d give up. My blanket was calling, warm and forgiving. But then my housemate stepped outside at the exact moment I needed him. Timing that didn’t work before somehow clicked into place this time. A quiet rescue.

As I walked again on the way home, something shifted. I started noticing the smallest things: the veins of every leaf, the crunch of rocks underfoot, how the breeze shifted from warm to cool when I turned toward the lake. Then came the sting of sudden rain.

And in that ordinary, imperfect moment, the lesson arrived:

It doesn’t matter how many times you have to start over.

It only matters that you do.

The first step will always feel the hardest. But once it’s taken, the next one follows, and then another.

When life feels impossible, the way back isn’t grand or dramatic. It’s small. It’s choosing discipline, not as punishment, but as survival.

• Make the bed.

• Wash the cup.

• Open the window.

These tiny acts aren’t about a tidy house. They’re about reclaiming a pocket of control when the mind feels wild and untouchable. Each one is a thread that ties you back to yourself.

Mental health isn’t built in a single day, or a single decision. It’s built in every moment you choose to begin again.

So yes, my Monday was messy. But also a reminder: it’s okay to miss a bus, or two, or three. It’s okay to need a reset.

The solution isn’t to fix everything at once. It’s to take one small, manageable step.

Because in the chaos, and in the butterflies that come after, that’s where momentum waits.

With love,

Sarah Merret (Mr Merretts little girl)