Mindfulness Practice

  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’...

There are days when I want to put the world on mute. Not pause. Not rewind. Just mute. Like, can everyone just lower their voices, slow down the pace, and stop breathing so loudly for five minutes? You know the days I’m talking about—when the traffic feels personal, your phone won’t stop buzzing, the kettle boils too aggressively, and even your thoughts seem to have a megaphone. It’s like the universe forgot to take its ADHD meds and now I’m stuck in the chaos with no escape plan. So, what do you do when everything is too much? Too noisy, too busy, too everything ? Here’s what I’ve learned—sometimes the hard way. 1. Acknowledge the Overwhelm (Don’t gaslight yourself) First things first: you're not being dramatic. You're not weak. You're not “too sensitive.” You’re human . And this modern world isn’t really built for soft, sensitive, deep-feeling people—especially the ones trying to heal, grow, keep promises to themselves, and not scream at the cashier who forgot the...

There’s a quiet heaviness today. Like my heart is trying to breathe through a memory. I cried this morning. Not loudly — just the kind of tears that slip out when love and loss live too close together. I thought of her — my mom. How we sat beside her when she took her last breath. How beautiful she looked, even in goodbye. How the world felt both completely still and impossibly broken all at once. She used to play “I Hope You Dance” for us — her favourite song, the one she dedicated to her children. “ I hope you never lose your sense of wonder… ” Even now, those words feel like a whisper from her. A reminder to keep going. To keep feeling. To keep dancing, even when the music hurts. And I thought of my own children. Of all the ways I wish I could be the kind of mother they deserve. Of how much I miss them — in the ordinary, everyday ways. Their voices. Their hugs. The way they still see me with hope in their eyes, even when I struggle to see myself the same way. It’s the...

In a world that’s louder, faster, and more demanding than ever, Generation Z — those born roughly between 1997 and 2012 — are leading a quiet revolution. While previous generations may have turned to hustle culture or numbed out with distractions, Gen Z is pausing, breathing, and tuning inward. And whether you’re 15 or 55, there’s a lot we can learn from their approach to mindfulness. 1. They’re Breaking the Stigma Around Mental Health For Gen Z, talking about anxiety, burnout, or therapy is not taboo — it’s normal. They’re rejecting the idea that struggling makes you weak. Instead, they’re open about their mental health journeys, often sharing them online in a raw, authentic way. Mindfulness is a natural extension of that honesty: it’s about meeting yourself where you are, without judgement. Helpful Resources: Therapy apps and resources Mental health advocacy in Gen Z 2. Mindfulness Is Their Protest Gen Z grew up online. They know better than anyone the toll constant notifi...

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...

(Source: Unsplash, photographer: Sixteen Miles Out) Some days I feel like I’m barely holding it together. Like I’m stitched together with string and hope and a whole lot of pretending. And the world just keeps spinning. Loud. Fast. Relentless. While I’m quietly trying not to fall apart. But there are these little things I do. Small things. The kind of things no one else would even notice. And yet somehow, they help me breathe. They pull me back. They remind me I’m still here. Waking up early. Just breathing. Before the world gets loud, there’s a moment of quiet. I drink a glass of water. Not because I’m thirsty. Because I promised myself I would. It’s such a small thing, but keeping that promise matters. It tells me I can trust myself again. Then I make my coffee. Strong. Black. No sugar. No milk. That first sip feels like a deep breath. A soft “you’ve got this” before the day begins. I sit. I write. Sometimes it’s a mess. Just scribbles. Thoughts I didn’t even know I was car...

Let’s be honest—when we set goals, we tend to go big . We want to lose 10 kgs in a month, write a bestselling novel in a week, or transform into a Zen-like, green-juice-drinking, 5 a.m.-waking, morning-run-loving human overnight. Then reality kicks in. The alarm rings at 5 a.m., and suddenly, snooze is the only thing on your to-do list. The treadmill starts looking like medieval torture, and that green juice? Yeah, it tastes like lawnmower clippings. The problem isn’t you —it’s the all or nothing approach. Enter the magic of 1% . Why 1%? Because 1% is easy . 1% is doable . And 1% doesn’t make you feel like a failure when life gets in the way. James Clear (you know, the guy who wrote Atomic Habits and made us all question our life choices) explains this beautifully: if you improve by 1% every day , you’ll be 37 times better in a year. THIRTY-SEVEN TIMES. That’s like upgrading from a clunky old Nokia to the latest iPhone with AI that basically runs your life. The 1% Rule in Act...