Mindfulness Practice

We grow up with stories of rescue. Fairytales. Cartoons. Romantic comedies. There’s always someone who swoops in just in time. A prince, a parent, a friend, a miracle. Someone who sees your pain and says, “I’ve got you. Let me take it from here.” I think I internalised that without even realising it. That someone or something would save me. That eventually, the chaos would stop. The shame would lift. The noise would quiet. That I’d wake up and somehow everything would be okay, because something outside of me would make it so. But here’s the hard truth that’s been crashing down on me lately: No one is coming to save me. And wow… I’m exhausted. Not just tired— exhausted . Bone-deep. Soul-deep. From carrying too much for too long. From pretending. From performing. From constantly trying to hold it all together while feeling like I’m falling apart on the inside. And if I’m completely honest, I don’t even like who I became somewhere along the way. I lost parts of myself I used to b...

I’ve been sitting with this ache in my chest, trying to find the right words, but I don’t think there’s a perfect way to say this. So here it is: I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way my insecurities sometimes take over and make me crave more attention than I should. For needing constant reassurance, even when I know it’s not fair to ask. It’s not because I don’t believe in my worth—it’s because, deep down, I’m still learning how to. I hate that my neediness can feel overwhelming, that it might make me seem selfish or too much. It’s something I’m painfully aware of, and it’s exhausting to carry. The fear of being forgotten or not being enough is something I’ve battled for as long as I can remember. I know these feelings don’t come from others but from inside me—old wounds and scars that I thought I’d moved past but still find myself carrying. They whisper lies, telling me that I have to do more, be more, demand more, or else I’ll be left behind. And sometimes, I let those whispers control m...

  When was the last time you allowed yourself to truly be vulnerable? Not the "oops, I forgot to mute myself on Zoom" kind of vulnerable, but the deep, soul-revealing type. The moment when you admit, either to yourself or someone else, that you don’t have everything perfectly together. Let’s face it: vulnerability has a bad reputation. We’re conditioned to see it as weakness. Society encourages us to "stay strong," "keep it together," and "never let them see you sweat." But here’s the truth—real strength lies not in pretending to be invincible, but in embracing your imperfections and recognising your inherent worth, even when life gets messy. The Myth of Perfection For many of us, perfection has long been presented as the ultimate goal. Whether it was achieving top marks in school, being the perfect friend or sibling, or following life’s script to the letter, the message was always clear: don’t make mistakes, and if you do, make sure no one find...

How Many Times Can a Person Say “It Is What It Is”? Ah, the ubiquitous phrase “It is what it is.” It rolls off the tongue effortlessly in moments of resignation, acceptance, or when you just can’t be bothered to explain why your day went sideways. But how many times can a person really say it before it loses all meaning—or, better yet, before you realize it’s become your life’s motto? Let’s dig in, tongue firmly planted in cheek. When Do We Say It? 1. The Coffee Spill at 8 a.m. You’re balancing your coffee, your phone, and your bag, and suddenly, your white shirt gets an unsolicited caffeine makeover. You stare at the stain, sigh deeply, and mutter to yourself: “It is what it is.” Translation? You’ve surrendered to the universe’s cruel sense of humor. 2. At Work, Every. Single. Day. Did your boss just drop a last-minute deadline on you? Did a coworker “forget” to copy you on that important email? Cue the phrase, because nothing else can mask the exhaustion quite like it. 3. The Holiday...

The (Slightly Anxious) Art of Showing Up They say courage is not about roaring like a lion; sometimes, it’s just about whispering, “Fine, I’ll go.” This rings especially true when life throws you into situations where control is as elusive as Wi-Fi at a family gathering in the middle of nowhere. I recently stumbled across this nugget of wisdom: “The courage to be vulnerable is not about winning or losing, it's about the courage to show up when you can't predict or control the outcome.” Let’s talk about that for a moment, shall we? Imagine you're standing at the edge of a metaphorical cliff. Below you is a vast, swirling sea of uncertainty. The choices? Leap in (vulnerable and scared out of your socks) or stay put (comfortably stuck and missing out). Here's the kicker: showing up—with all your quirks, fears, and yes, your slightly sweaty palms—is the ultimate brave act. Vulnerability Is Awkward, But Worth It Let’s not sugarcoat it: vulnerability feels awkward. It’s like ...