Category: Notes from Life

When my child has a meltdown or talks back or refuses to do something I asked, it’s easy to feel like I’m doing something wrong—or that they are. But I’ve been learning to pause and remind myself: this isn’t a sign of failure. It’s information. Their behaviour isn’t a reflection of my worth as a…

Just because your story started in pain doesn’t mean it has to end there. Just because someone told you who you were—too emotional, too quiet, not enough, hard to love—doesn’t mean their version is the truth. You are not locked into the roles other people gave you. You can rewrite the script. Maybe you grew…

Recovery isn’t linear. It’s more like a winding path through a thick forest—sometimes I walk with clarity, sometimes I trip over roots I didn’t see coming. There are stretches of stillness where nothing seems to change, and then suddenly, growth bursts through like wildflowers after rain. There were days I felt like bare ground. Nothing…

Listening to my body isn’t always easy, especially in a world that rushes and demands so much. But I’ve learned that when I truly pay attention to what my body needs—rest when I’m tired, food when I’m hungry, space when I feel overwhelmed—I’m doing more than just taking care of flesh and bones. I’m honoring…

Parenting is hard. It stretches you, breaks you open, and rebuilds you again. But there’s this strange idea floating around that unless you’re completely exhausted, constantly sacrificing, and entirely selfless, you’re doing it wrong. Like suffering is proof that you’re a good parent. But that’s not true. There’s no gold medal at the end for…

You weren’t born to perform. You weren’t created to spend your life proving your worth, fixing yourself to be more lovable, or bending into shapes just to keep people close. You are not a project to be improved so that one day you’ll finally “deserve” love. You already do. If you’ve grown up with rejection,…

For so long, I thought beauty was a checklist—something fixed, something I had to measure up to. Society handed me a set of rules: thin here, flawless there, perfect smile, perfect skin. But that kind of beauty feels cold and empty. It leaves no room for realness, for the messiness and the magic of being…

What I care most about teaching my children isn’t blind obedience to rules or rigid beliefs. It’s kindness. Real, everyday kindness. The kind that shows up in how they treat a classmate who’s struggling, how they speak to someone different from them, how they treat themselves when they make a mistake. Dogma demands conformity. It…