Mindfulness Practice

  I didn’t just make a small mistake. I messed up badly, in a way that hurt a lot of people, but most of all my family. That fact sits heavy on me every single day. I wake up with it, go to sleep with it, and it follows me in every quiet moment in between. The shame isn’t just a thought; it feels like a living thing inside me, pressing on my chest, making me question who I am and whether I even deserve to be here. And the truth I have to face is brutal. Can it even be called a mistake if I actively chose to do the wrong thing? That hits differently. A mistake is something accidental, something you stumble into. But this was conscious. This was a choice. And owning that choice, fully and without excuses, is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. It’s like staring into a mirror and seeing someone you barely recognise, someone capable of hurting the ones you love the most. I’ve spent so long punishing myself, replaying every detail over and over, wishing I could take it bac...

I blew up my life. Not in a dramatic, movie-style way. It was quieter than that — slower. A series of choices, secrets, shame-filled moments. And then, like a dam finally giving in, everything burst. That moment? That’s what I call the pivot chapter . It’s the part of the story no one wants to live. The dread. The weight. The horror of it all being real — and out. And you’re left to face it. I found out then who was really with me. And who never had been. Some people disappeared — maybe out of fear, maybe out of hurt. But some stayed. And in the middle of the mess, I realised I still had me. Shaky, terrified, ashamed… but still standing. Shame is a strange thing. It feels like the price you should pay — like penance. But the truth is, it’s selfish. Shame pulls the focus inward: I am bad. I am broken. I am the worst thing I’ve done. And when you sit in that, you don’t move. You don’t heal. You don’t help. I carried shame for things I couldn’t even control. I shackled myself ...