The $6 Therapy Session.
There’s a particular look my husband gives me when I walk through the door holding a takeaway coffee. It’s not quite judgement, not quite surprise, but acknowledges we have our own coffee beans and a budget to uphold.
And he’s not wrong. Technically. But also — he absolutely is.
Because the truth is, my occasional store-bought coffee isn’t really about the coffee.
It’s about the ritual.
The gentle act of popping into Home Love Mette K after school drop-off and exchanging a few words with the lovely barista — who never quite knows whether to start making a decaf or the real deal because I change my mind every second visit — is something I genuinely look forward to. She’s patient with me while I decide, I’m greeted like a regular, even though my order never is, and there’s something oddly comforting about having someone else make something delicious just for me.
It’s about sitting in the car for a brief minute and taking that first sip while pretending I don’t have 15 tabs open in my brain. It’s an anchor that lets me catch up with myself before the day takes off again.
That $6 (okay, $6.90 for a large) is less about coffee and more about sanity. It’s small, but it’s grounding. It’s a moment I choose for myself, and sometimes, that’s enough to shift the whole tone of the day.
I think sometimes we underestimate the power of rituals. We imagine them to be grand things like sunrise yoga on the beach, or writing in a gratitude journal while burning sandalwood incense at 5am. But grounding rituals can be wonderfully ordinary. For some people, it’s unloading the dishwasher in silence before the rest of the house wakes up. For others, it’s the daily dog walk, the morning Wordle, or scrolling through the news before breakfast. For me, it’s that friendly chat while waiting for a coffee that someone else with much more skill is making for me.
These little acts of intentionality aren’t frivolous. They’re the breadcrumbs that lead us back to ourselves when the to-do list gets loud, the emotions aren’t quite in check, or our days become dominated by the list of tasks we might be doing for others.
So yes, maybe it’s an “unnecessary” coffee. But it’s also a very necessary reset button. A micro-moment of joy. A cup-filling experience that reminds me of the desire I have to tackle life with some fire in my belly.
And that, my friends, is priceless. (But still technically $6.90.)