It’s funny how it takes being completely wrecked by the flu to remember that I actually live inside a body. Not just some machine that keeps up with deadlines, coffee, and chaos—but a real, breathing, breakable thing. This week, it reminded me loud and clear who’s in charge. Spoiler: not me.

It’s my dad’s birthday this weekend. He won’t want anyone to know that. He doesn’t like a fuss. Doesn’t want balloons or cards or sentimental Instagram posts—he’d rather just have his Heineken, a smoke with his morning coffee, and maybe a decent meal he didn’t have to cook. But I’m writing this anyway, because sometimes the quiet heroes deserve to be seen—even when they’d rather disappear into the background.

Yes, I am 41 and I keep a diary. Not a bullet journal. Not a gratitude notebook. A full-blown, messy, unfiltered diary.

I didn’t go to work looking for friendship. I went for the cheque, the benefits, the illusion of stability. Like most of us. I kept my head down, did the job, played nice in meetings, and dipped when the clock hit 4:59.

You don’t just go to my parents’ place. You arrive—heart first, lungs adjusting to air that still remembers what it was like before concrete and deadlines.

There’s something about a phone call with my mom that feels like stepping into an emotional tornado—equal parts chaos, unsolicited life coaching, and a kind of fierce, unshakable love that could probably power a small country if we figured out how to bottle it.

Ah, closure. That elusive, shiny thing we chase after when relationships end—whether it’s a messy breakup, a friendship that ghosted...

Today is International Women’s Day, and while the world celebrates the achievements of women everywhere, I find myself thinking closer to...

Ah, online dating—a place where hope goes to thrive and die within the same five-minute scroll.

As a single mom, my journey through motherhood has been a rollercoaster of emotions, challenges, and invaluable life lessons.

Not only did running keep me in shape, but it also doubled as a free therapy session and a mental spa day.

So, I got "ghosted" this week and I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. It's a first for me... like, seriously...

It is almost impossible for me not to feel inspired when winter months have finally come to an end and the warmth of spring is upon me.