Tọlá Belva

I recently bought a glass pot on Amazon, one of those sleek, transparent ones that lets you see everything bubbling and brewing inside. Today, I decided to use it for the first time. As someone who loves coffee, I’ll admit it’s been a bittersweet journey transitioning away from it. Acid reflux has a way of nudging you towards better choices, and for me, that meant saying goodbye to caffeine. But in giving up coffee, I found something else—tea. Not just any tea, but an entire world of endless possibilities and creative (decaffeinated) concoctions.

What I love most about tea is its versatility. You can make it as simple or as intricate as you want, tailoring it to your mood or the moment. Since embracing tea as my daily ritual, I’ve created more recipes than I can count. Yesterday, I kept it simple with green tea and a few drops of vanilla flavoring—a subtle, soothing blend that felt like a gentle hug in a cup. But today, I decided to go all out. I reached for a hibiscus tea bag, threw in a handful of cloves, a few cardamom pods, and a stick of cinnamon. As the ingredients swirled and simmered in my new glass pot, the vibrant colors and rich aroma filled the kitchen with a warmth that felt palpable and inviting.

Watching the tea come to life, a thought crossed my mind: Just like tea, your life isn’t meant to please everyone—and that’s okay.

This reflection brewed as slowly as the tea in my pot. Just like the spices I carefully selected to create the perfect balance of flavors, each of us is a unique blend of traits, experiences, and quirks. Not everyone will savor what we bring to the table, and that’s not a reflection of our worth. It’s simply a matter of taste. Some people will prefer coffee—bold, assertive, and straightforward. Others may not crave anything at all. But none of that changes the essence of who we are. Just like my tea, simmering and unfolding with its unique character, I remain myself whether or not someone appreciates the flavor I offer.

It’s a lesson I’ve had to learn over time, one that’s come with a mix of bitter moments and sweet revelations. Growing up, I often felt the pressure to fit into molds that weren’t mine, to be liked and accepted by everyone. But trying to be everyone’s cup of tea is exhausting. It’s like diluting the rich, vibrant notes of hibiscus just to make it taste like something it’s not. In the process, you lose the very thing that makes you unique.

As I poured the tea into my favorite mug, its ruby-red hue shimmering in the light, I realized how far I’ve come in embracing this truth. Not everyone will understand your flavor, and that’s perfectly fine. What matters most is that you honor your recipe and that you stay true to the blend that makes you you. Whether it’s the warmth of cinnamon, the spice of cardamom, or the tang of hibiscus, your essence will find its way to those who truly appreciate it.

Sipping my tea, I couldn’t help but smile. This glass pot, my new tea ritual, and the journey I’ve taken to find comfort in my own blend—it all feels symbolic. Life is like a pot of tea: rich, layered, and deeply personal. Some will love it, others won’t, but your value doesn’t change based on their preferences. It remains, steady and intact, just as it always has.

So here’s to brewing a life that feels authentic. Here’s to savoring your own flavor, even when it’s not everyone’s favorite. Because at the end of the day, your worth isn’t determined by who drinks the tea—it’s in the joy of creating it.