Mindfulness Practice

If life came with a remote, most of us would be pressing the “mute” button on certain people, skipping past the awkward bits, and turning the volume way down on Monday mornings. Sadly, no such remote exists.  Instead, we’re left with a lot of things we wish we could control: what people think of us, the weather on braai (BBQ) day, or that one colleague who just won’t stop oversharing. Spoiler alert: we can’t. I saw this simple diagram the other day:  Two circles: 🔘 The outer one says: “Things we CANNOT control.” 🔘 The inner one? “Things we CAN control.” And honestly? It was the gentle slap of truth I didn’t know I needed. We can't control what others say or do, how they feel, or what happened in 2015 that still randomly pops into our minds at 2 a.m. But we can control our reactions. Our words. Our priorities. Our bedtime (even if Netflix disagrees). And our self-talk, because, let’s be honest, that inner critic is often just a drama queen with a loudspeaker. When ...

I’ve got my square squad . The people who know me—really know me. They see my heart, they see my effort, they see the messy, raw, real me, and they hold space for it all. Their voices are the ones I trust, the ones I go to when the world gets loud. And yet, this week… someone outside that circle said something cruel. Something untrue. And it got to me. I found myself spiralling—defending, justifying, doubting. Then I caught myself trying to apply logic: “She’s not in your square squad. Her opinion doesn’t matter. Don’t let it in.” But here’s the hard truth: It still hurt. Because no matter how strong our boundaries are, or how clear we are on who matters and who doesn’t, we’re human. And words—especially unkind, false ones—can sting, even when we know the source is irrelevant. This is where the work lives. Not in pretending we’re untouchable. But in acknowledging the sting, sitting with it, and choosing not to let it define us. I reminded myself of three things today: Just b...

  Understanding the Impact of Emotional Abuse We often associate the word “abuse” with what we can see — bruises, scars, broken bones. Things that show. Things that can be explained. But what about the wounds no one sees? What about the damage caused by words that cut deeper than a slap ever could? By silence that screams louder than any raised voice? This is emotional abuse. And for so many of us, it goes unnoticed — even by the person living through it. “It’s not that bad…” — Except it is Emotional abuse is sneaky. It doesn’t always shout. Sometimes, it whispers just loud enough to make you question your own voice. It might look like: Constant criticism disguised as “jokes” Being blamed for everything that goes wrong Feeling like you’re walking on eggshells Being ignored or given the silent treatment Being made to feel like you’re “too sensitive” or “overreacting” And the worst part? It builds slowly. So slowly that by the time you realise something’s wrong, you’...

Some days, I wake up and I’m already in battle. Not with the world. Not with people. With my own thoughts. The ones that tell me I’m not enough. That I should have done more. That I’ve messed it all up—again. That everyone’s watching. Judging. Waiting for me to fail. It’s exhausting, isn’t it? To be your own biggest critic. To carry a war inside your head while trying to smile through the day. To look calm on the outside while your mind spins stories that feel so real, they make your stomach churn. I Used to Believe Every Thought If my mind whispered, You’re a disappointment , I’d nod in agreement. If it shouted, You’re not worthy of love , I’d retreat, make myself small, apologise for existing. I thought these thoughts were me . That they defined me. But I was wrong. Not every thought deserves my attention. Not every voice in my head speaks the truth. Sometimes, my thoughts are just echoes of old wounds—unhealed parts of me that resurface in moments of stress or fa...

I used to be highly functional—a woman who could do it all, juggle countless responsibilities, and forget nothing. My mind was sharp, my memory impeccable. I thrived on organisation, on efficiency, on being able to manage everything life threw at me. And the man I loved? He was the same. My soul mate. We understood each other’s drive and passion, our shared hunger for achievement, our ability to handle it all. Then everything changed when he burnt out. It was sudden and devastating. He couldn’t work anymore. The fire that once drove him dimmed, and then extinguished. I stood by him, unwavering. I fought for him, fought to keep him alive. I pulled blades from his hands, stopped him from slitting his wrists, did everything in my power to keep him safe. Even having him committed in the hopes that it would help, that it would give him a fighting chance. But it didn’t. In the end, he lost his battle. He took his own life. And with him, he took a part of me. Not just a huge chunk of my...

Healing is not a destination. It’s not a place you arrive at, where everything suddenly makes sense, and the past no longer aches. Healing is a journey—a slow, winding path with detours, setbacks, and moments of clarity that feel like sunlight breaking through heavy clouds. For so long, I thought healing meant erasing the past. If I could just forget, if I could just move on, then maybe I would be whole. But I’ve come to realise that wholeness isn’t about forgetting—it’s about integrating. It’s about taking the broken pieces and making something beautiful out of them. Some days, the weight of old wounds still presses against my ribs. Some nights, echoes of past pain whisper in the quiet. But I am learning to sit with it, to hold myself gently, to remind myself that I am more than my scars. Healing is in the small moments—the way I breathe deeper now, the way I listen to my body instead of punishing it, the way I choose love over fear, again and again. I am not the same person I was...

Raise your hand if you've ever spent 45 minutes formatting a document that should’ve taken five. Or if you've agonised over crafting the perfect email, only to hit send and realise, oops, typo. Welcome to the club—you might be a perfectionist. And while that drive for flawlessness sounds admirable, it’s productivity’s ultimate buzzkill. The Oil and Water Dilemma Picture this: productivity is water, fluid and adaptable. Perfectionism is oil, thick and unyielding. Together? A recipe for stagnation. When perfectionism takes the reins, it convinces you that unless you have the perfect plan, you shouldn’t start. Productivity, meanwhile, just wants to get things done. The result? Your to-do list is stuck at square one while you’re obsessing over whether your bullet points should be circles instead. The Myth of Perfect Here’s the thing: perfection doesn’t exist. It’s like chasing a unicorn—you can dream about it, but you’ll never actually catch it. And while you’re busy hunting for my...

Let’s talk about pain. No, not the stub-your-toe-on-the-sofa kind, but the deep, emotional, "life-has-sucker-punched-you" kind. The hard truth is, healing starts with accepting something most of us would rather avoid: you’ve got a hand in your own suffering. Stay with me, though—it’s not as bleak as it sounds. This isn’t about assigning blame or declaring fault. It’s about taking responsibility. Picture it less like pointing fingers and more like grabbing the wheel of your own life. Because if you’ve been hurt—whether by a dodgy relationship, past trauma, or life’s general knack for throwing curveballs—you might instinctively want to direct all the blame outwards. And yes, external factors do matter, but here’s the thing: waiting for someone else to fix things is like waiting for the bus in the middle of nowhere. It’s not coming. The Temptation of Victimhood Staying in victim mode can feel... oddly comforting, can’t it? There’s no need to make any big changes because, hey, it...

How to Turn Self-Doubt into Self-Growth Introduction Self-doubt is something everyone experiences from time to time. It often creeps in just as we’re about to face new challenges or step outside our comfort zones. It can feel like a hurdle, preventing us from reaching our full potential. Here’s the reassuring part: self-doubt doesn’t have to hold you back. In fact, when approached thoughtfully, it can be a catalyst for growth. By learning to understand and reframe it, you can transform moments of hesitation into opportunities to adapt, learn, and flourish. Let’s explore some practical ways to turn self-doubt into self-improvement. Recognising Self-Doubt as a Natural Process The first step is to realise that self-doubt is a completely normal reaction to unfamiliar situations. It’s not a sign of weakness or failure—it’s an indicator that you’re pushing yourself to grow. Feeling unsure is simply part of the process. Rather than resisting these feelings, take a moment to acknowledge them. ...