“Sometimes the bravest and most important thing you can do is just show up.”
It’s darker than usual this afternoon, the cloudy skies a reminder of the downpour that ended a few minutes ago. I love the rain but right now I’m not too fond of the unpleasant cold that came with this one.
Nevertheless, I lay on my bed (my duvet wrapped around me cause it’s actually too cold) with a pen in my right hand over my journal, waiting. Waiting for that wave of inspiration to hit me and actually pour out as words- cause I’m tired of…
I have never been present.
It seemed so weird when I wrote this down at first but thinking about it now, it couldn’t be any more true.
The past and the future have had my attention for so long, the present seems almost non-existent. My days have just been spent dwelling on what could have been, or what could be, instead of what is. That’s why I feel so unfulfilled.
It’s the same cycle everyday; with regret and worry as my mind’s best friends, I’ve robbed myself of many todays. Days and months pass, and I hardly remember being there.
A few days ago, I was having a conversation with a few people and the topic shifted to feminism. Some people brought up the fact that feminism seems to demonize some choices i.e. the choice to be a stay-at-home mum, not wanting to work and so on. This was not the first time I had heard something like this so I could understand where they were coming from however, I’m going to say this.
Feminism as a whole is a movement to remove all gender restrictions society has placed on women. To give women the opportunity to be who they…
I once asked myself a question one day. Which is worse: Rejection or regret?
Initially, I would pick regret because to me, it is better to try and fail than to never try but recently I’ve not been able to pick between the two because I’ve realized that even with rejection comes regret. Thoughts on what you could’ve done or not done to avoid rejection linger and are hard to forget.
I personally hate failing because I’m a dweller. I dwell on the negatives and I stew on it for a long period of time, forgetting the present and loosing…
There was once a time when we were one,
When I was utterly in love with your form.
Then I fell for the schemes of society,
Belived the lie that you were the enemy.
Dear Body, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I didn’t love you better.
Sorry for letting people tell me what to do with you,
for feeling you weren’t enough because society said so.
I’m sorry for treating you like a burden
rather than a friend.
God’s magnificent creation,
and deserve all my love.
So today, dear body, I’ve made a promise.
The Comfort zone has been portrayed as this choking space, some terrible prison that you must do your utmost best to get out of.
Being adventurous, changing things up, is considered cool and the new norm, and having routines are looked down upon.
But is the comfort zone really as bad as motivational books tell you? Is it so depressing and unhappy that we should spend our lives trying to get out of?
I would like to think of the comfort zone as a house. …