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Too Aware: The Weight of Self-Awareness

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The more self-aware I became, the less peaceful life started to feel. There was a time when I simply existed without questioning every emotion, every interaction, or every shift in energy around me. I didn’t spend hours replaying conversations in my head or trying to understand why people behaved the way they did. But growth changed that. Healing opened my eyes to things I once ignored, and suddenly I became aware of everything including myself. At first, self-awareness felt empowering. I started understanding my triggers, my fears, and the reasons behind certain habits I had developed over the years. I became more emotionally intelligent and more conscious of the environments I allowed myself to stay in. But with that awareness also came discomfort. Because once you start seeing patterns clearly, it becomes difficult to pretend they are not there. I began noticing how much people hide behind appearances. How many relationships survive through avoidance instead of honesty. I noticed ho...
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Money, But Make It Freedom

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Why Financial Freedom Became Personal for Me For some people, money is just money. A way to buy things, pay bills, or enjoy life. But for me, financial freedom became something much deeper than that. It became emotional. Personal. Almost spiritual. Because when you grow up witnessing struggle closely, you begin to understand that money affects more than comfort  it affects peace, confidence, choices, relationships, and even the way people see themselves. I think growing up taught me very early that survival can quietly consume people. You watch adults carry stress they never speak about openly. You notice sacrifices being made behind closed doors. You learn how financial pressure can change moods, create tension, delay dreams, and force people to settle for lives they never truly wanted. Even as a child, I think I absorbed that reality deeply. As I got older, I realized one of my biggest fears was becoming trapped in survival mode forever. Waking up every day just to make it throug...
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Made in Ottosdal

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Ottosdal was the kind of town where life moved slowly, but emotions moved quietly and deeply beneath the surface. The streets were familiar, the faces repeated themselves, and routines became traditions without anyone even realizing it. To outsiders, it may have looked ordinary. But to the girl growing up there, it was an entire world filled with lessons she would only understand years later. Childhood there was a mixture of innocence and awareness. One minute life felt simple  children playing outside until the sun disappeared, laughter echoing through dusty streets, music playing from nearby houses, conversations carrying through open windows. And the next minute, reality would quietly introduce itself through struggle, loss, pressure, or the unspoken heaviness adults tried to hide from children. Growing up in a small town teaches you how to read energy before words. You notice when people are pretending to be okay. You notice sacrifices nobody talks about. You notice how surviva...
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Tiny Human, Big Chaos

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Before becoming a mother, I thought parenting was mostly about giving love, buying cute clothes, and teaching life lessons. I did not realise it also involved negotiating with a toddler about why we cannot eat snacks for breakfast, hearing “mom” every six seconds, and somehow becoming responsible for another person’s survival while running on very little rest. Motherhood is strange because one minute you feel like the most loving, patient person alive, and the next minute you are emotionally overwhelmed because someone cried after asking for the exact thing they just received. Toddlers truly humble you. You can spend twenty minutes making food only for them to reject it dramatically and ask for something they rejected yesterday. And somehow, despite being exhausted, mothers still continue functioning. We remember appointments, carry snacks, solve problems, clean things that become dirty again immediately, and mentally track a thousand invisible responsibilities every single day. It’s h...
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Grief Changed the Shape of My Life

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Losing my mother in 2025 did not just hurt me emotionally it changed the way I experience existence itself. There is a version of me that existed before that loss, and a version that exists after it, and they are not the same person. Grief is strange because life continues around you as normal while something inside you quietly realises that nothing will ever feel fully the same again. I think grief is the final proof that love was real. People speak about grief as if it is only sadness, but it is also attachment with nowhere to go anymore. It is love searching for someone who is no longer physically here to receive it. That is why grief can feel so disorienting  your mind understands the loss before your heart fully catches up to it. What surprised me most was how grief hides itself inside ordinary moments. It is not always dramatic. Sometimes it appears in silence. In reaching for your phone before remembering there is no one to call. In hearing something funny and realising who ...
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Twinsoul

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For a long time, I thought the way I think and feel about things existed only inside of me. I’ve always had deep conversations with myself  about life, people, emotions, the world, and the meaning behind things most people overlook. And I think a part of me always wanted to find at least one person I could speak to with that same level of honesty, depth, and understanding. Then I met him on 25 October 2017. What felt different was not just the connection itself, but the feeling of being mentally and emotionally understood without constantly needing to explain myself. Some people enter your life and only hear your words. Others somehow hear the meaning underneath them too. I found myself able to speak freely, naturally, and deeply in a way that felt familiar instead of forced. The conversations did not feel surface-level or performative. They felt like meeting someone whose mind somehow moved alongside mine. I think that’s why some connections feel rare. Not because they are perfect...
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Still I Speak

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I am well aware that there is no real “benefit” for a woman to be as opinionated as I am. In many spaces, being outspoken is not rewarded  it is questioned, softened, or made uncomfortable for others. There is a certain expectation that women should be agreeable, careful with their words, and easy to digest. Anything beyond that is often seen as too much. But I don’t think I speak the way I do for approval or advantage. It feels more like something I can’t fully switch off an instinct to notice things, to question them, and to say them out loud when they don’t sit right with me. Even when silence would be easier, more accepted, or more convenient. Maybe that’s what makes it feel like "doing it purely for the love of the game" Not because it is always comfortable, and not because it always benefits me, but because there is something honest about refusing to shrink my thoughts just to make them easier for others to receive.
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