Went for a Walk, Accidentally Found Inner Peace

Hungover, Haggard, and Needing a Reset

A few weeks ago, I made the classic mistake of pretending I was 22 again. It started with a small night out, just a couple of vodkas, and somehow ended with me dramatically sighing on the bathroom floor at 2am, pondering the meaning of life. The next day was a write-off. I wore an oversized t-shirt that may or may not have been from my ex, ate toast in bed, and questioned every single decision I’d made since high school. Existential dread? Fully activated.

The day after that, though, I woke up with that strange post-hangover clarity. You know the one. It’s like your soul finally has room to breathe again, and suddenly you’re hyper-aware of everything: the dust on your blinds, the pile of washing you’ve ignored for three days, and the deep, unrelenting craving for something green. Not salad, obviously*. Peace. Grounding. Something that didn’t come with regret and a side of chips.

Before Lulu arrived, I would’ve just gone and sat next to one of my many, many houseplants. My home used to be a jungle of thriving green life. Pothos, monsteras, the occasional rescue basil from the supermarket. They made me feel calm, rooted. But then I adopted Lulu. Beautiful, unhinged Lulu, who believes anything leafy is a snack sent from the gods. Within a fortnight, my indoor jungle became a plant-free zone, and I’ve been on a desperate search for nature ever since.

*Though I did DoorDash a matcha latte

Chaos Cat, Missing Plants, and One Too Many Vodkas

Lulu is the love of my life and also the reason I can no longer have nice things. He is fluffy, sweet, deeply chaotic, and fully committed to launching himself at any green thing in sight. I’ve tried every trick: cat grass, distraction toys, even pretending to chew the plants myself so he’d lose interest. Nothing worked. I rehomed nearly every single plant I owned because my anxiety couldn’t handle the possibility of a midnight emergency vet visit involving a half-eaten peace lily.

But I still needed nature. Desperately. I didn’t realise just how badly until the hangover day from hell. My house felt lifeless. And while Lulu was having the time of his life attacking my toes and knocking things off counters with purpose, I felt like a husk of a woman. Something had to give. So I did what any mildly unhinged millennial would do when having an identity crisis: I put on my least offensive activewear, slid into a pair of sandals (because I needed mental support, not arch support), and left the house.

It was hot. Like, slap-you-in-the-face-with-a-sunbeam hot. Adelaide doesn’t mess around in the summer, and within five minutes I was questioning every decision all over again. But then I turned a corner, and found myself in one of those oddly magical suburban nooks. A tiny pocket of green, shaded by big ol’ trees, with the faint sound of water trickling nearby. And just like that, the meltdown softened. I took a deep breath. The kind of breath you don’t realise you haven’t had in weeks.

The Secret Creek and My Accidental Mindfulness

If you walk a few blocks from my place, past the third house with the overly aggressive garden gnome collection and that one bin that always smells suspiciously like vinegar, there’s a hidden trail. It doesn’t look like much. But if you follow it long enough, it leads you to a small creek that winds its way between back fences and old gum trees. I’d found it months ago, completely by accident, when I was taking an alternative route to the Woolies due to a road closure.

On this particular day, though, I stumbled upon it again and decided to sit. No phone. No podcasts. No wellness playlists. Just the sound of water, leaves shifting in the breeze, and the distant screech of cockatoos being dramatic little shits. It was bliss. And honestly, it felt illegal. Like I’d found a cheat code for calming the fuck down. As it turns out, peace smells like eucalyptus, not lavender-scented capitalism.

I’m not claiming I had a full spiritual awakening beside the creek, but I definitely felt something shift. The ache behind my eyes eased. My shoulders dropped from around my ears. I remembered that I’m not just a human disaster in a bleach-stained t-shirt. I’m a living, breathing person who just needs green things and occasional silence to stay sane. Who knew.

A Quick Word on Nature, Science, and Feeling Better

Before I start sounding too woo-woo, let’s get science-y for a sec. I love science. So, there’s a very real reason why being in nature helps us calm the hell down. Studies have shown that spending time in green spaces can lower cortisol levels (that’s your stress hormone), boost mood, reduce anxiety, and improve focus. Basically, touching grass is not just a meme – it’s medicine.

There’s also something called earthing (or grounding), which is the practice of walking barefoot on natural surfaces like grass, sand, or soil. It helps reconnect you with the Earth’s electric charge, which sounds a bit out there until you realise it’s been shown to reduce inflammation, improve sleep, and even help regulate your nervous system. Science said: take your shoes off and breathe.

And let’s not forget forest bathing, which is a Japanese practice called shinrin-yoku. It literally means “taking in the forest atmosphere.” No hiking boots or sweat required. It’s all about slowing down, using your senses, and letting the natural world hold you for a bit. Just twenty minutes of this can lead to measurable changes in your body and mind. Which is wild, considering it costs nothing and doesn’t involve downloading an app.

Why Walks Are Now a Core Part of My Emotional Survival Kit

Since then, I’ve made a habit of taking myself for a little hot girl walk around the block when things start to feel like Too Much. Not for fitness., not for steps, not even for the smug feeling of doing something productive. Just for peace. Just to remind myself that the world is bigger than my brain and its many, many spirals.

Sometimes I put on music. Sometimes I don’t. And sometimes I cry behind my sunglasses and dramatically pretend I’m in a music video. Other times I just listen to the sound of my own footsteps and try not to trip over uneven paving stones, because I might be a little bit glam on occasion, but I am also very very clumsy. But every time, without fail, I come home feeling just a little bit more human. A little bit less like I need to crawl back into bed with Cheezels and regrets.

We often talk about self-care like it has to look a certain way. Baths, face masks (which, lbr, I am slightly obsessed with), or carefully curated wellness rituals. But honestly? Sometimes self-care is just getting out of your own house. Stepping away from the chaos. Letting your nervous system have a moment to remember what calm feels like. And for me, that calm now lives beside a creek I almost forgot existed.

Peace isn’t always bath bombs and herbal tea. Sometimes it’s sweating through your bra in 34 degrees while dodging magpies.

What I Learnt from Accidentally Finding Inner Peace

Turns out, you don’t need a vision board, a journal (ick) or a $60 affirmation candle to feel better. You just need a moment. A patch of shade. A decision to go left instead of right. And maybe a little chaos demon at home to remind you that peace is never permanent, but it’s always available if you’re willing to seek it out.

I still miss my plants. Every now and then I buy a new one and hope for the best. Some survive. Most don’t. But I’ve made peace with that. Lulu is a handful, but he’s also the reason I found the creek in the first place. And I’ve learnt that peace isn’t always found in perfection. Sometimes it’s found in mess and mayhem, on a walk you didn’t plan, wearing socks that don’t match and sunglasses that sit crooked.

You don’t need to hit rock bottom on a bathroom floor to take a walk. But hey, if you do? At least wear sunscreen. So if your soul is shrivelling in the fluorescent glare of your own anxiety, try going for a walk. Take your chaos with you. Don’t wait for the perfect moment. Just leave the house and see what you find. There might be peace waiting round the corner. Or at the very least, a rogue magpie to remind you that you’re alive.

If you’ve got a Lulu of your own, or your plants have become casualties in your pursuit of peace, I see you. We’re doing our best, oversized t-shirts and all. Next time life feels a bit too loud, maybe take yourself on a little walk. Not to fix everything. Just to breathe.
You never know what hidden creek might be waiting.

We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity

In today's episode of Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity, we're unpacking why we need to stop clapping for basic decency. You know the script. A man texts back within twenty-four hours and we're screenshotting it to the group chat. A man plans a date more than three hours in advance and we call him a unicorn. A man manages to listen, pay attention, and behave like a fully formed adult, and our nervous systems short-circuit because we genuinely don't know how to receive it.Here's the truth nobody is saying out loud. The bar has been dragged so low that Satan himself needs a chiropractor after a competitive round of limbo. We've been culturally trained to be grateful for behaviour that should not require gratitude. We've been told these things are bonuses when they're actually the entry requirement. And in the meantime, women have been quietly doing the basic decency thing forever, without applause, while men get standing ovations for outputs we generated for them.Today we're talking about why a great man is genuinely just an average woman, who benefits when the bar stays low, the invisible labour women have been performing for free for centuries, and the friend-test that cuts straight through every excuse we've ever made for mediocre men. Let's get into it.For more visit BryJaimea.com or follow over on IG @BryJaimea

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