Sinking Into Serenity: How a Kitchen Flood Taught Me to Chill

You know you’re on a journey when the universe decides to get literal with you. There I was, knee-deep into Denise Linn’s Unlock The Secret Messages of Your Body, smack dab in the middle of Water Week, no less—emotionally fragile, weepy, and ready to dive deep into the watery depths of my subconscious. And just like that, my home decides to join me on this journey of emotional cleansing. Cue the literal flood.

It’s funny how this always happens, right? I coach clients through their emotional and physical clutter, helping them break through whatever is holding them back. And without fail, the elements—water, fire, earth, air—seem to burst through unexpectedly. So, while I’m here releasing my emotional baggage, my kitchen sink drain is releasing its own. The timing? Cosmic comedy

Picture this: water seeps beneath the gorgeous hardwoods we painstakingly installed in 2019. It’s creeping its way up like some metaphorical tide—except, unfortunately, it’s pretty real. The drain? Done for. The cabinet beneath it? Doing its best impersonation of a sponge. And me? I’m trying to remain zen as I relocate all dishwashing activities to the laundry room sink because the dishwasher’s connected to the same drain. Isn’t it always?

If this were a few years ago, I’d be a hot, frustrated mess—cursing the plumbing gods while eyeballing the hardwood damage like it’s a personal betrayal. But today, after days of working through my emotional, watery wounds (and oh-so-tender sensitivities), I’m taking a different approach. I’m leaning into it. If this flood wants to be a part of Water Week, so be it. Let’s ride the wave.

And here’s the thing: something unexpected happened. As I begrudgingly dragged the dishes to the laundry room, prepping myself for the inconvenience, I discovered a surprising sense of peace. That first day, I was muttering, “I hate washing dishes by hand.” But soon, I started noticing the details—the hot, soapy water, the tiny bubbles catching the sunlight, swirling and dancing as I scrubbed away. It felt… oddly soothing.

Much to my shock, I realized that washing dishes could actually be meditative. Instead of letting them pile up in my usual frantic fashion, I cleaned them as I used them. I slowed down. And in doing so, I noticed things I hadn’t before—the sun’s warmth on my face through the window, the scent of flowers blooming outside, the sound of birds chirping away like they didn’t have a care in the world.

I started to see the beauty in the moment, in the simplicity of it all. Slowing down gave me a window into something I’d been missing in the chaos—magic. Yes, magic in the tiny bubbles, the sunlight, and the peaceful rhythm of handwashing dishes. Maybe that was the lesson I needed all along to pause, embrace the quiet, and see the world around me.

Sure, the drain will eventually get fixed. And yes, I’ll be thrilled when I can use the dishwasher again (because, let’s be honest, convenience is still queen). But for now, I’m embracing this watery detour and grateful for the unexpected peace it’s brought me.

Sometimes, the universe has to throw a flood at you to get you to slow down. Here’s hoping this is the last of the watery lessons for a while, though—I think I’ve had my fill.

Until next time, Judy