I didn’t get into shrimp keeping for fun.
I got into it because I needed something – anything – to care about.
It was late 2020.
I had been jobless for almost four years, burnt out from moving and job seeking (and failing), and sleeping on a mattress on my sister’s floor.
One month turned into nine. I was safe – but empty.
I needed something to build.
Something that gave me purpose.
That’s when I found shrimp.
Somewhere between a YouTube rabbit hole and a late-night spiral, I discovered them.
Tiny.
Intricate.
Peaceful.
They gave me something to learn, to hope for – and maybe even heal through.
A few months later, I landed a remote copywriting job – my first stable income and full-time job ever.
It gave me just enough space to breathe…
…And space to dream again.
When I moved into a shared house (with a brand new bed!), I set up my first tank.
It wasn’t perfect. Not even close.
It took three failed cycles before I got it right.
And when I finally brought home my first 20 Sunkist Neocaridina… half of them died within a week.
I was crushed.
But I didn’t quit.
I kept learning. I kept adjusting.
And slowly, my tank started to thrive.
The Lessons That Nearly Broke Me
Once things stabilised, they took off.
My Neos went from 30 to 300 in three months.
Babies everywhere. Life. Movement. Colour.
It felt like proof that I could do this.
I added a second tank. Started selling.
Even brought in pygmy corydoras for cleanup – and to my surprise, they bred too.
But with growth came new mistakes.
I mixed species – Neocaridina and Caridina – without realising how different their needs were.
One colony thrived. The other quietly disappeared.
So much money spent on Caridina wasted because I didn’t do my research.
And then came the loss that nearly ended it all – but, hopefully a lesson for you too.
After a major knee surgery, I moved back home and consolidated everything into one beautiful tank while I recovered.
Then, an infestation in the kitchen caused us to grab the bug spray out of reflex.
The tank was next to the bench, not even a metre away.
None of us had a second thought.
Then, shrimp started dying within minutes.
I tried to save them – fresh water, emergency transfers – but it was too late. Within the hour, they were all gone.
Two years of work. Thousands of dollars.
The bloodlines I had been working on for 2 years.
Gone.
Only the corydoras survived.
I turned off the lights. And walked away from shrimp for months afterwards.
Months later, I moved into my Nan’s house while she travelled.
It was quiet. Still.
And in that stillness… shrimp found me again.
The corys were still thriving. Still breeding.
That quiet resilience reminded me why I started.
So I set up a small, divided tank.
Chose new colours.
Moved slowly.
This time, not to scale – just to create something I felt proud of.
When I moved into a granny flat, things grew again.
Eight tanks. Dozens of shrimp. A fresh start.
Then another sudden move undid everything.
It wasn’t toxins this time – it was chaos.
Rushed packing. Water swings. Stress.
Most of the colony didn’t make it.
But this time, I didn’t spiral.
I paused. Breathed. And chose to go slow.
Now, I’m back to where I began – Sunkist.
Not for profit. Not for prestige.
But because they remind me why I started.
Because sometimes, peace is enough.
Why I’m Still Here
Because I’m here for you.
This isn’t just a hobby; it’s healing, clarity, and calm in motion, and I want you to experience that too but without the frustration and struggle I went through.
I know what it feels like to:
I’ve been there.
And I’ve come out the other side better than before – not because I’m perfect, but because I kept going.
I learned what works. I built something real.
That’s why I created Rosie’s Shrimp Keeping.
Not to show off. Not to overcomplicate.
But to give you grounded, no-fluff guidance that helps your tank thrive – and makes you proud every time you see it.
No guesswork.
No overwhelm.
Just support, strategy, and shrimp that stay alive.
I can’t guarantee you won’t run in to challenges, but you won’t be alone.
I’m here, and there’s a community ready to support you.
You’re not just capable – you’re ready.
