Oh, I love that sharp, metallic click and the way it shivers under pressure, but nothing beats the soft pop of a bubble or the buttery feel of a silk scarf that just slides against your skin, turning every touch into a tiny celebration.

When everything feels too soft and cozy, I tap my fingers together, make that little “pop” sound, and it’s like a tiny alarm that reminds me to pause and feel the edges of things. I grab a textured object—a rough wooden box, a rubber grippy ring, or even a brick of memory foam— and press my palm into it. That solid resistance steadies my mind and pulls me back to the present, so I don’t get lost in the blanket of softness. And every time I find a new texture, I let myself feel it, then step back, taking a breath, and then move on, like a bubble that pops and lets the next one rise.