I felt alienated by my own country, where went to get my passport renewed as I had been instructed by the embassy in Portugal but was refused due to the complicated nature of where I live and belong.
Author: vienda
-

i’m moving to New York
kind of, maybe, not really…? I really wanted to write that to see how it feels in case it turns out to be true
FEB 18, 2025

I’m sitting on the Ikea sofa in his living room, laptop balanced on my knees, pretending to work. Through the open door to his office down the hallway, I can hear his voice, steady and methodical, as he speaks with the electricity company to cancel his contract. Each call makes his impending departure feel more real.
The day we met he told me he was moving to New York in the new year. At the time it meant nothing. I was talking to a stranger on the wooden bench outside a cafe window.
But as coffee meetings evolved into sunset walks through cobblestone streets, as dinner dates transformed into intimate evenings on his sofa, as casual conversation turned into “Will you be my girlfriend?” – that once-insignificant sentence took on a weight I hadn’t anticipated.
He’s preparing to leave the country at the end of March. I’m not built for long-distance relationships – I’m either fully present or completely absent. So I am joining him a few weeks later.
One day, a few months after meeting, he was excitedly speaking about New York as we wove our way through the alleys to our favourite Saturday breakfast spot for coffee and cinnamon rolls. In my luteal phase, my emotions already simmering close to the surface, when tears welled to the surface.
We had discussed it before.
He had asked me to join him with such natural ease as if it were the most obvious next step. I had always dreamed of spending three months in New York – to live there permanently? I wasn’t certain. But to discover its hidden corners and explore its endless possibilities? Absolutely.
But that morning, as my hormones conspired against me and left me feeling raw and vulnerable, all I could focus on was how this was his adventure, his dream. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I might be merely a footnote in his story. In that moment, I grieved for something I hadn’t yet lost.
I tried to compose myself in private, but the wave of emotions was too powerful to contain. Through tears, I confessed that while I was genuinely happy and excited for him, hearing him talk about New York made me feel like an afterthought. Unused to and ill-equipped for such feminine displays of emotion, he panicked, genuinely confused – because in his mind, there had never been any question. We were going to New York, together. That was the only version of the future he had envisioned.
I needed reassurance, more than I wanted to admit. I found myself losing an internal battle between soaring excitement and crushing doubts.
Now, as our departure date approaches and our relationship has deepened with time, I feel more secure in the future we’re creating together. Today, when he looked at me with bright eyes and said, “I can’t wait to see what we create together!” I felt my heart lift with joy.
Still, I oscillate between hopes and fears. Perhaps you, dear reader, if you’ve made New York your home, can offer some guidance.
My excitement and hopes bloom:
- I dream of losing myself in the halls of the Met, discovering hidden galleries in Chelsea, hunting for treasures at Brooklyn flea markets, and immersing myself in the vibrant, multicultural tapestry that is New York City. Every corner holds the promise of inspiration.
- The thought of the connections waiting to be made sets my heart racing – the artists, writers, dreamers, and doers all within reach. I plan to approach each day with intention, cultivating a diverse and inspiring circle of kindred spirits.
- I envision this new chapter expanding my creative horizons, opening doors I never knew existed, and forging connections that could transform my work and life in unexpected ways.
- Each morning will bring new possibilities – a different neighbourhood to explore, a new face to become familiar, another layer of the city to uncover and make my own.
- I believe in a kind of magic that happens when you’re perfectly aligned with your path. I’m curious to discover what shape that magic takes in a city of eight million stories.
Yet my fears and doubts cast shadows:
- As a highly sensitive extroverted introvert, I quickly become overwhelmed by excessive stimulation. When surrounded by too much input – noise, movement, energy – I need a quiet space to decompress and reset. I worry about finding that sanctuary in a city that famously never sleeps.
- My soul craves warm sunshine, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the rhythmic sound of waves – none of which New York is particularly known for. Where will I find those moments of natural peace that keep me grounded?
- In a city consistently ranked among the world’s most expensive, I fear financial pressure might force me into a “hustle culture” I’ve intentionally avoided. I believe in working with purpose and alignment, not from desperation.
- The heaviest weight on my heart is finding a new home for my cat, Danger. This separation might be temporary, or it might be permanent – the uncertainty makes it even harder. He’s been my constant companion, but I can’t bring him with me, and I can’t let his needs become the anchor that holds me back from this adventure.
If you’re reading this in Europe and have space in your heart and home for a loyal ginger cat who gives his affection selectively but completely, please reach out. He needs a peaceful environment, ideally with a garden, and he’ll reward you with unwavering devotion.
Life has a way of surprising us with unexpected turns. Moving to New York after my lease ends in April wasn’t part of my plans (though a psychic I’d quickly dismissed had predicted exactly this last August). But I love to embrace life’s kismet redirections.
I don’t live by carefully crafted plans but by my unwavering belief that “something will happen.” Something always does.
-

how to date
dating apps won’t tell you this!

I have a passé approach to love, romance and dating.
I have never had a one-night stand. I believe intimacy, both physical and emotional, needs to be earned.
I believe in old-fashioned passion, wooing and flirtation. I believe everyone walks into your life for a reason. Even the ones that are in it only for a short season. I believe in choosing someone imperfect with your whole heart, and then choosing them again and again, even when it’s hard.
I love love and being in love and being in love and loving someone has always been enough for me. I want to fight for love. For real love. I want to fight for you and the love you wish for.
When I meet a man I like, which is very rare, I decide I like him, we hold hands, and voilà! We are boyfriend and girlfriend. So when
people(you, my reader) ask me for dating advice, I don’t know what to say.I don’t buy into the modern dating approach. But maybe that’s exactly what you need: The things dating apps won’t tell you.
“Why aren’t you on dating apps?” he asked.
“If I can’t meet someone organically, I deserve to be single!” I declared, with conviction and arrogance.
My friend Jackson, who had just spent an hour recounting his tragicomic Tinder escapades, looked like I’d slapped him.
I softened. “It’s not a judgment. I just know the kind of man I want isn’t on there. The man I want? He’s not playing this game. I want someone like me. Someone who romanticises chance encounters. I want unexpected circumstances to deliver him to me. And I want a solid answer to the ‘How did you meet?’ question. I want a love story.”
He nodded, lost in his own thoughts.

what dating apps won’t tell you
When I met my partner I had wished for love for a long time.
We met in an unassuming way. On a big wooden bench outside against a big wooden window frame at a cafe. Just metres from where he lived. I was not pretty: I had been on a long walk, wearing leggings and a t-shirt, and on a work call. I was not expecting to meet my future partner that day.
I have more than a year’s worth of scrawling in my journal begging life to bring the right man my way. And I knew it was a kismet combination of being ready and open, timing, and place. And the assumption of positive intent1.
I knew I wanted to be met by someone who wanted to go on a life journey with me. Someone who wanted to grow alongside me. Someone shared my particular flavour of life experiences, so we were not too foreign to one another. I knew that, for it to stand a chance, we had to meet by chance.
The difference between meeting someone organically vs meeting them on a dating app is it leaves you delighted by the miracle of life working in your favour.
As opposed to the gamified human connection where every match becomes an empty dopamine hit. Dating apps thrive on your loneliness. They profit from your insecurities.
I have watched brilliant, accomplished women and friends spend months cycling through superficial connections, each one at first, promising and then, ultimately hollow. The real currency in dating isn’t in accumulating matches. It’s in the courage to be seen, truly seen.
Intimacy is not just about physical closeness, it’s about feeling safe to show someone who you are2. And for many, being emotionally naked feels scarier than taking off their clothes.
Exposing our insecurities, wounds, fears, and dreams can leave us feeling deeply vulnerable and exposed. True intimacy lies in moments of shared vulnerability.
Real love isn’t built on a perfectly timed witty reply. It’s built on presence. On attunement3. On showing up, again and again, even when it’s inconvenient. But apps won’t tell you that. I bad for business.

how to date
Dating, at its core, is simple: Be curious. Be honest. Be vulnerable. Have integrity. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.
Love lives in the spaces. In the cracks between plans. In the moments we don’t see coming. Like that day at the café when I met my partner. Me in my workout clothes. Hair wild from the wind. A work call on a wooden bench. That’s when love found me.
The truth about dating is simple. No strategies. No rules. No perfect messages. Just you, present in the world. The world, present with you.
These moments matter. Not for where they lead. For what they are. Raw pieces of being human together.
The ones who draw us in aren’t perfect. They’re real. They laugh about changing clothes three times before coffee. They admit when trust comes hard after heartbreak. They say “this is who I am” and let the words stand naked.
step 1: curiosity
Like people. That’s it. Just like them. People like people who like them.
Want someone to like you? Like them first. Want someone to love you? Love them first.
Dating isn’t about finding “the one.” It’s about being present in the world and actually engaging with it. It’s about making small sacrifices. You cannot complain about how no one talks to each other anymore while simultaneously refusing to look up from your phone.
step 2: honesty
Magnetism lives in complete ownership of who you are. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about being real.
The paradox of honesty is that the very things we think make us unlovable—our quirks, our fears, our weird habits—become our most attractive qualities when we own them completely.
Mature honesty requires discernment. It’s not about emotional dumping. It’s about stating your truth simply, without apology or explanation.
step 3: vulnerability
We’ve created a culture where strength is mistaken for invulnerability. Women are told to be independent, self-sufficient, always composed. Never let them see you need.
The magic happens when you share your truths without needing the other person to fix them. When you can say, “This is who I am” without apology, you create space for others to do the same.
Vulnerability also acts as a filter: the ones incapable of real connection will disappear. The ones who are ready will lean in.
step 4: integrity
Curiosity opens doors. Honesty builds trust. Vulnerability creates connection. But integrity? Integrity keeps it all standing.
Integrity means doing what you say you’ll do. It means being the same person in all contexts: with friends, with dates, with yourself. It’s saying no when something doesn’t align with your values, even if no one would know otherwise.
It’s rare. That’s why it’s attractive.
Integrity is the difference between being interesting and being trustworthy. Between being desired and being valued. Between drawing people in and giving them a reason to stay.
Dating isn’t broken. We are just overcomplicating it.
You just need to show up.
Curious. Honest. Vulnerable. In integrity.
That’s how you date. That’s how you find love. That’s how love finds you.

love, dating & other accidents
Some men are more fantasy than reality. Some arrive at the perfect moment but for the wrong reasons. Some teach you things you didn’t know you needed to learn—about yourself, about your boundaries, about the importance of foreplay.
Romance these days is strange magic. We try people on like borrowed coats, hoping they’ll stretch in the right places. Mistake lightning for sunrise. Convenience for chemistry. Bend ourselves into shapes that leave us sore.
But dating, at its best, is a mirror. It shows you what you want, what you don’t, what you’re willing to settle for and what you won’t tolerate again. It reminds you that love—real love—isn’t something you stumble into overnight. It’s something that grows, slow and steady, through care and curiosity.
And if nothing else, at least it makes for a good story.
The kind that makes you laugh years later. The kind that makes you grateful for all the wrong turns that led you right where you needed to be.
It means believing that the other person is acting with good intentions, even if their actions or words don’t land well. It’s a mindset that fosters empathy, reduces unnecessary conflict, and allows for more open, trusting interactions.
This requires what psychologists call secure attachment—the ability to maintain your identity while deeply connecting with another. Dating apps, however, cultivate the opposite: anxious attachment, where validation comes from digital affirmation rather than real-world connection.
Attunement in dating is the ability to be present with and responsive to a partner’s emotions, needs, and unspoken cues. It builds trust and connection through emotional awareness, active listening, and empathy.
-

redirection (aka: goodbye Instagram)
I’m grieving.
It’s 2016 and we are travelling South East Asia for 6 months.We being my boyfriend and I. The one that I moved to Canada, bought a house and planned to start a family with. Only to realise that this life was not mine. The one I left 15 months later.
I could not run my business while on the road. The pace of our travels did not match my tolerance so I focused on the one thing I could: growing my Instagram following. I spent two hours every day posting the perfect photo and inspiring caption, following accounts, commenting, and responding.
That year my following grew from 2,000 to 10,000.
I’m grieving.
When we arrived in Canada on Christmas Eve 2016 I shifted my focus. From growing to nurturing my following. I concentrated on offering the things that earn me a living: online courses, cohorts and private clients.
The numbers continued to grow.
By 2019 my poetry posts received 300+ likes and shares and my Instagram account grew to 15,000.
I wanted to make a difference in the world through my words and art so badly. So much it ached. Instagram promised me virality. It promised me fame. It promised me wealth. None of those came. Not really.
It’s 2021 and everything is changing.
I’m grieving.
Instagram started to steal my voice. Slowly, quietly, it demanded I contort myself to fit its cold, calculated design. Every day, I twisted my words, my art, my very essence to please an algorithm that didn’t know me. I was no longer creating. I was performing. For an audience I couldn’t see. For a system that didn’t care.
I started to lose followers. In flocks of hundreds. I felt disheartened, became complacent, lost my message and stopped sharing in the ways I had before.
I’m grieving.
It’s 2025 and time to grow differently.
Last Tuesday someone in Turkey hacked my account and tried to sell it back to me. They changed the name and told my followers they had bought it for 10k. But continued to try to get me to pay for it.
It was too late. The account was already too compromised.
I asked everyone I knew to report the account. Please do it too, if you can:

I’m grieving.
I’m done with Instagram. It’s a major loss to me and my business. And it’s a redirection away from Meta that has been a long time coming.
After losing my Instagram, I feel raw. Exposed. Stripped of the digital skin I’d carefully crafted over years. And in this vulnerability, I see something shifting. Something real.
We’re moving away from massive, soulless platforms. Away from numbers and likes and hollow connections. Now, it’s about real people. Real communities. Small spaces where trust isn’t a metric, but a feeling. Where a single meaningful conversation matters more than a thousand empty scrolls.
The fabric of social media is changing.
I’m grieving.
Despite everything. Despite the loss. Despite the grief. I’m still here. Still creating. Still inviting you into a space of genuine connection: my FREE Clarity Challenge.

The challenge started on Monday. But shifts don’t follow a calendar. You can still join. Still show up. Still be part of something real.
Plus, it’s more than just a challenge – it’s a movement towards more meaningful connections, both online and in life.
-
my Instagram account has been hacked, disabled and is being held hostage for ransom
… and I don’t know if I feel distressed or relieved about it? Or if the bones of my business can carry me forward from here?

On Tuesday night, as I made my way to bed, I popped my phone on charge in the living room and was about to turn it on aeroplane mode — my nightly ritual of digital disconnection — when I saw the message above. Confused and with my heart already starting to race, I swiped across to my Instagram icon and tapped on it, only to confirm my worst fear: my personal brand account, years of connections and content, had vanished into the digital ether. Poof! Gone faster than my New Year’s resolution to do morning meditation.
The next two hours became a blur of frantic searching and desperate attempts at recovery. Anyone who’s lost something precious knows that initial surge of panic – the racing thoughts, the moist palms, the tightness in your chest as you try everything you can think of. From clicking the ‘hacked’ option to desperately navigating Facebook business support (an experience about as helpful as asking my cat for tech advice), I followed every breadcrumb trail I could find. Each dead end felt like another door slamming shut. Instagram’s automated responses might as well have been echoes in an empty room — they offered literally zero help. By midnight, I crawled into bed with stress hormones surging through my body, my mind a carousel of worst-case scenarios.
Yet somewhere in that chaos, a tiny voice whispered: “What if this is actually a gift?” (Plot twist: sometimes the universe has a peculiar sense of humour in delivering its messages.)
The past 36 hours have been a rollercoaster of emotions that have been equal parts terrifying and oddly liberating. Like standing at the edge of a cliff — frightening, but with a breathtaking view of possibilities I hadn’t considered before. Who knew digital detox could be so… involuntary?
While juggling multiple priorities I attempted account recovery, supported my private clients and wrote the daily lessons for the free 6-day Clarity challenge that starts on Monday:
You’re invited! It’ll be fun! bring your friends! Over 60 people have already signed up!
Each day you’ll receive bite-sized audio lessons and powerful exercises designed to spark clarity and momentum straight to your phone on Telegram. 📲 There you can share your breakthroughs, connect with others, and take bold steps forward—one day at a time.
Day 1: Understanding Stuckness
Focus: Why you feel stuck and how to shift your mindset.
Day 2: Creating a Vision
Focus: Get clear on your authentic desires and values.
Day 3: Overcoming Resistance
Focus: Address internal and external blocks stopping you from progressing.
Day 4: Reigniting Inspiration
Focus: Build motivation and discipline for aligned action.
Day 5: Building Momentum
Focus: Start taking aligned action with clarity and confidence.
Day 6: Anchoring Self-Trust
Focus: Celebrate progress and build tools for future decisions.
These past 36 hours have forced me to deeply examine Instagram’s role in my life, and the revelation has been both unsettling and illuminating.
Yes, it’s been an incredible platform for building genuine connections — a digital garden party where I’ve cultivated beautiful friendships and connected with kindred spirits across the globe. Through it, I’ve shared my authentic voice, sparked hope, and offered a perspective that celebrates personal responsibility and infinite possibility.
But let’s be honest. The platform has morphed into something almost unrecognisable. It’s like that friend who suddenly got really into multi-level marketing — still lovable, but exhausting to be around.
Each scroll brings another sales pitch, another algorithm-fed distraction. The wholesome creativity and genuine connection that drew us here have been largely displaced by an endless parade of carefully curated content and targeted advertisements. At this point, my feed thinks I’m simultaneously planning a wedding, starting a kombucha business, and in desperate need of 47 different productivity apps.
And when I look at my stats, of the 12k, less than 10% of you get to see anything I share. I find myself increasingly torn between gratitude for the platform’s benefits and an almost visceral resistance to being part of this attention economy.
It’s like being at a party where everyone’s shouting, but nobody’s listening.
While I’ve always strived to maintain authenticity in this space, there’s a growing dissonance between my values and the platform’s evolution. We’re all aware of the studies showing social media’s impact on our collective mental health, our ability to focus, and our capacity for deep, meaningful in-person connections. As someone trained in psychology, I feel this weight even more heavily.
Could this forced exit be the universe’s way of nudging me toward a more aligned path? Perhaps. However, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified about my business’s survival without this digital lifeline.
There’s only one way to know. This is exactly what I am doing now: seeing how you, my community, rally around me.
While losing my account has shaken my business foundations, it’s also created space for something new to emerge. Something potentially more aligned with both my values and the genuine needs of my community.
This is where you come in.
As I navigate this transition, I’m curious to hear your thoughts and feelings. How would you prefer to stay connected? What kind of support and content would truly serve you? How do you feel about Substack and YouTube? Perhaps together, we can create something even more meaningful than what we’re leaving behind.
-
I am someone with enormous desires
The struggling woman archetype simply cannot exist in 2025. There’s no more room to play small.

It’s a rainy winter day here on the windswept Atlantic coast of Portugal. Winter has officially set in, and I’m already yearning for warmer days. I really do try to embrace these colder months – wrapping myself in cozy blankets, sipping steaming cups of tea – but ultimately, my soul was made to dance outdoors under that magnificent ball of fire in our sky.
Lately, I’ve been in a deep season of reflection, turning over the same question in my mind: “What life am I truly designing for myself?” To chart my path forward, I need to first understand where I’ve been.
The recent path was initiated with a leap of faith – moving from sun-soaked Mexico to the misty shores of the U.K. in early 2020 to launch my first physical product: Plannher 𓂃, a planner crafted specifically for women. Then, of course, the global panini hit (I’ve decided to rename it because if I hear “pandemic” one more time, I will actually expire).
I know this era transformed all of us in profound ways.
For me, it shattered something fundamental – this infinite trust I had carried in the world around me. Perhaps it was misguided, perhaps even privileged, but I had always held this unwavering belief that some mystical force would ensure everything worked out. That belief crumbled when I witnessed just how broken our world could be, and it hurt me deeply.
In response, I tried to make myself smaller. I convinced myself I could be content with less, shrinking to fit into what my environment seemed to expect of me. In a world I had once felt was mine to explore, I suddenly felt microscopic.
This contraction forced me to mature and face myself in ways I’d been avoiding.
Alongside my inner growth, my career accelerated at a dizzying pace – I said yes to everything, trying to keep up with a world that felt increasingly unstable.
Seeking sunshine, I relocated to Mallorca.
But something had shifted inside me. The carefree global wanderer I’d once been felt like a stranger. The magical circuit I’d existed in had shattered, taking pieces of my heart with it. I had witnessed humanity’s vulnerability, selfishness, and irresponsibility, and I couldn’t unsee it. Burned out, unsettled and unable to find my flow – which manifested in strange physical symptoms – I left Mallorca behind.
Back in the U.K., after five months of nomadic wandering, I nested in a sweet little village, in a cabin surrounded by ancient forest. But even that wasn’t enough. My soul was starving.
That’s when I had to face a powerful truth: I am someone with enormous desires.
I want it all. I want that epic, life-long love story. I want to taste every flavor this world has to offer. I want to craft a bold, meaningful, breathtakingly beautiful life. I want to be so well-resourced that I never have to compromise on experiences. I want my creative life to overflow with possibility. I want to buzz with pure, electric aliveness.
Sometimes we need others to remind us that we deserve everything we desire. My closest friends have been lighthouses in this journey. I speak to my friend Lola almost daily, and we fan the flames of each other’s dreams, encouraging one another to follow the charged desires pulling at our heartstrings. Because really – if we don’t, what’s the point of this precious life?
Through all this, I’ve realized something crucial:
To be truly free, playful, and creative, you need both financial security and the maturity to handle your resources wisely. The struggling woman archetype simply cannot exist in 2025. There’s no more room to play small.
My boyfriend and I often discuss how the real game-changing adjustments in life are actually quite boring, simple, and repetitive. You can’t hack your way to satisfaction. But you can strategically stack your habits to create better outcomes.
When I examine the areas of my life that have flourished – my career (at times), my lifestyle (I’ve already lived such a full life that fills me with pride!), my friendships (meaningful and deep), my romantic relationship (everything I dreamed of right now) – the design process has been consistent.
I followed the magnetic pull inside my body and took whatever action was required.
I showed up for my business every single day for years, long before it became financially fruitful. I made heroic efforts with my friends, driving hours just to share a coffee or offering soothing words as balm for their hearts, even when it wasn’t convenient. I said “no, thank you” to countless potential suitors and relationships, choosing solitude over settling for less than what my heart truly desired.
Eventually, piece by piece, I got what I wanted – even if it looked nothing like I’d imagined.
Because context matters. The only thing that truly matters is that it fits me like it was made for me. Because it is.
If you’re ready to redesign a specific part of your life, here’s what works:
— First, decide how you want to feel in that area of your life. Ultimately, we only want anything because we’re chasing a feeling. So get crystal clear – what feeling are you pursuing?
— Next, pay attention to what makes you feel truly alive. It doesn’t have to be directly related to what you’re redesigning. But by holding that part of your life high in your consciousness and heart, you help pull the necessary elements toward you, creating momentum.
— Create a feedback loop between your actions and the area you’re redesigning. Gradually adjust how you show up for yourself, letting the context of what you want to change inform how your life shifts.
— Finally – and this is crucial – find people who are already living the life you’re designing, in ways that you admire, and spend time with them. Nothing transforms your life faster than surrounding yourself with people who expect nothing less than spectacular for themselves.
Rinse and repeat, forever and ever, as you evolve as a human being.
-
monday monday
How else could we live? We pour ourselves into vessels that may crack, dream dreams that may dissolve, love people who will certainly change. And in doing so, we become more fully human, more alive…

The winter rains have arrived which everyone warned me about. “It pours endlessly and everything will feel damp and moist,” they told me.
I’ve been living in the tiny fishing village-turned-surf destination of Ericeira in Portugal, for three months now. The palms outside my windows are waving at me carelessly reminding me not to go outside.
It’s Monday and I woke in bed with my cat’s face so close to mine I could feel his soft breathing. He had tucked himself under the covers next to me like a doll, making me laugh.
I promised myself a slow start this morning and folded myself deeper into the lingering nighttime warmth letting my mind drift and wander without holding onto any particular thought.
Finally, the urge to relieve myself urged me out followed by padding out to the windows to confirm that it was indeed a day to stay cosy indoors.
Lighting candles and incense in the living room I moved back to the kitchen to make warm lemon water to drink always the first thing on an empty stomach followed by honey-sweetened cacao to enhance the cosy atmosphere.
The start of 2025 has felt like water slipping through cupped hands. Impossible to grasp yet vital to life itself. Like water, we try to build our worlds on what cannot be contained: love, friendship, and the gossamer threads of possibility. In my small corner of existence, as the world churns with its fires and floods, its violence and chaos, I find myself surrendering to this paradox.
A chance encounter on a cafe stoop becomes something more. A love story with a tall Italian stranger transforming from nothing into something.
This is the eternal human condition – to build our castles on shifting sands, to stake our hearts on what tomorrow might reshape entirely. How else could we live?
We pour ourselves into vessels that may crack, dream dreams that may dissolve, love people who will certainly change. And in doing so, we become more fully human, more alive to the exquisite uncertainty of it all.
I sit watching raindrops fall in gentle rhythm, as candles flicker and fade one by one. My to-do list grows longer with each passing thought – a testament to my endless optimism about what I might accomplish this week. Though I know, deep down, that time will move more slowly than my dreams, I’ve learned to forgive myself for this hopeful nature. There is something beautiful about believing in possibility, even when reality gently reminds us of its own unhurried pace.
-
are you enabling someone you love?
what you’re responsible for. + what NOT

It’s officially 2025, and while some folks are diving headfirst into goal-setting and vision boards, others might just be trying to remember where they left their coffee. Wherever you’re at, it’s perfectly fine. Honouring your own rhythm is a beautiful thing. And while you might not be feeling the “new year, new me” vibes just yet, this could be the perfect time to hit reset on some sneaky habits—like enabling.
It’s been a hot topic in my little corner of the universe lately.
Having grown up in an emotionally unsafe environment, I was no stranger to enabling behaviours, as these dynamics often blur boundaries and foster a pattern of prioritising others’ needs, emotions, or dysfunctions over one’s own well-being, perpetuating cycles of dependency and unhealthy interactions.
It took me years to unlearn this pattern, a process that involved becoming deeply discerning about what was mine to carry and what wasn’t, and learning to step back, allowing others to take self-responsibility by resisting the urge to react or intervene in their experiences.
I thought, to celebrate the start of this new calendar year, you might like to break free from that pattern too, if it sounds familiar.
Let me show you how!
what is enabling?
Enabling is like being someone’s personal life jacket—except they’re perfectly capable of swimming, and now you’re both exhausted.
It’s when you step in to solve someone else’s problems, fix their mistakes, or shield them from the natural consequences of their actions. At first, it feels helpful (you’re just being a good friend/partner/parent, right?), but over time, it creates a pattern where they lean on you instead of stepping up. Meanwhile, you’re left wondering why you’re so drained and why they’re not learning to handle their own stuff. Sound familiar?
Enabling can feel like love wrapped in concern, but it often hides a deeper fear: that they might fail or face discomfort. By stepping in, you may inadvertently steal the opportunity for them to grow and build resilience.
Think of it this way: if you’re always the one baking the cake, how will they ever learn to crack an egg?
what you’re responsible for
(aka: The “Handle Your Own Stuff” List)
1. Your health and healing.
Nobody else can drink your green smoothie, book your therapy appointment, or stretch out that lower back. Sure, someone can suggest a healthier routine or offer support, but it’s on you to make the choices that support your well-being. Pro tip: Own it, and celebrate even the smallest steps forward.2. Your decisions.
Ever agreed to something you didn’t want to do, then fumed about it later? That’s on you, my friend. Whether it’s choosing a new career path or deciding not to answer a 10 p.m. text, your decisions are yours to make. The beauty here? You’re in charge—even if you make a mistake, you get to learn from it.3. Your commitments.
Said you’d do something? Then do it, or renegotiate with honesty. If you promised to help with a project but now realize you’re overwhelmed, it’s your responsibility to speak up. Holding your word—or adjusting it with integrity—is the backbone of trust.4. Your relationships.
Every relationship is a two-way street, but you’re responsible for your lane. That means communicating honestly, owning your role in conflicts, and recognising when it’s time to pour in love—or to step away. It also means not projecting your expectations onto someone else (ouch, I know).5. Your personal space.
From the clutter in your home to the vibe you create, your environment reflects how you care for yourself. Whether it’s finally tackling that junk drawer or adding a candle that makes your living room feel like a spa, this one’s all on you. And yes, this includes asking for help when needed.6. Your personal growth.
Change doesn’t arrive on your doorstep like a surprise Amazon package. If you’re stuck, it’s on you to take the first step. Whether it’s seeking guidance, ending something toxic, or starting that hobby you’ve been talking about for years, you’re the one who needs to pull the trigger.7. Your happiness.
Waiting for someone else to make you happy is like waiting for your cat to clean the litter box. Danger-baby isn’t doing it, and neither is anyone else. The secret? You’re fully capable of creating joy for yourself—start small and watch it grow.
what you’re not responsible for
(aka: The “Put That Down, It’s Not Yours” List)
1. Someone else’s healing.
You can offer a supportive hand, share tools, or hold space, but you’re not their healer. Whether it’s a friend processing heartbreak or a sibling stuck in their patterns, their healing journey belongs to them. Trying to take it on will only drain you both.2. Their decisions.
Ever tried to “fix” someone’s choices because you can’t bear to watch them struggle? Let it go. Your advice (when invited) is valuable, but you’re not the director of someone else’s life. Let them call the shots—and learn from the consequences.3. Their happiness.
No matter how much you love someone, you can’t fill the gaps in their joy. Whether it’s a partner, child, or friend, their contentment is their own work. Yours is to love and support them, not to carry the responsibility for their inner world.4. Their messes (literal or metaphorical).
If they didn’t pay their parking ticket, left dishes in the sink, or caused drama at work, that’s their mess to clean. If you’re always stepping in to save the day, you’re robbing them of the chance to grow and take ownership of their actions.5. Their learning process.
Growth is a beautiful, messy thing, and everyone’s path looks different. Trying to micromanage someone’s progress (or save them from mistakes) isn’t helping—it’s holding them back. Trust their ability to figure it out—they’ll thank you later.
let’s get real: a quick example
You’ve got a friend who’s always late. Every. Single. Time. You try “helping” by texting reminders, calling them 15 minutes beforehand, or even picking them up. Guess what? They’re still late. You’re exhausted, they’re still tardy, and now you’re resentful. Why? Because you’re trying to fix something that’s not yours to fix.
Instead, take a step back. Let them be late. If it means missing the movie previews or skipping the event, so be it. They’ll either learn the value of punctuality—or not. Either way, it’s not your circus, not your monkeys.
how to tell if you’re enabling
Ask yourself:
- Do I feel drained every time I help?
- Am I more invested in their success than they are?
- Is this something they could reasonably handle themselves?
If the answer is yes, you’re likely enabling.
letting go is the best gift
When you stop enabling, you give others the chance to grow.
You also free up your own energy to focus on what is yours. Imagine how much lighter you’ll feel when you stop carrying someone else’s load.
As we step into 2025, I invite you to honour your energy.
Set boundaries, embrace personal responsibility, and let others do the same.
-
2024: the year I stopped planning & started living
An end-of-year wrap up including a journey through 3 continents, my biggest lessons, 4 free life-changing courses for you & raw answers to your most asked questions.

I began 2024 floating in the South Atlantic Ocean off the African coast, deliberately empty of resolutions. No intentions. No ‘word of the year.’ No lofty ambitions to chase. Just a simple commitment to living life fully, moment by moment.
Life, as it turned out, had its own master plan. My role was simply to keep saying “yes” – applying the wisdom I’d shared in pieces like “cycle girlie” along the way.
Before I knew it, I found myself as a caregiver to two small boys, trudging through muddy, enchanted forests in the U.K. for six months. It was messy, beautiful, and completely unexpected.
Driven by my deepening desire to embrace idleness – a conscious rebellion against hustle culture, urgency addiction, and capitalism’s endless demands – I veered toward Spain. But life had other plans. Two weeks of confronting patriarchal structures (which, yes, thoroughly sucked) somehow landed me in Sicily’s warm embrace.
Then came another sharp turn: Portugal. And within two weeks, as if life was orchestrating a romance novel, I fell in love.
Looking back, I realise that some years aren’t meant for vision boards and carefully plotted goals.
Some years are cosmic dance lessons, where life itself becomes the choreographer. The magic happens when I loosen my grip on carefully constructed plans and allow myself to be carried by life’s current.
Every unexpected turn – from African shores to English forests, from Spanish confrontations to Portuguese romance – was a reminder that life’s wisdom far exceeds my limited imagination of what’s possible.
When I surrender to this flow, I find myself exactly where I need to be, even if it’s nowhere I ever planned to go. And yet, this surrender to life’s flow has led me to perfect clarity about what’s next.
As 2025 approaches, I’m filled with electric excitement about bold new directions — particularly a complete reimagining of my business structures — and the pursuit of new dreams.
Watch this space! I am delighted to take you with me on this journey.
I needed to let go completely to discover what truly sets my soul on fire. That’s exactly what 2024 taught me, and now I’m ready to chase the visions that make my heart race and my spirit soar.

Speaking of which, I want to invite you to join me as we turn the page into a new calendar year.
I’ve made four of my transformative courses freely available on YouTube for you:
SOVEREIGN – A 6-part liberation journey designed to help you break free from limiting beliefs and patterns. Using four simple steps, you’ll learn to identify and clear the blocks holding you back. *If you’re ready to claim your freedom, this class is calling your name.*
INTUIMETHOD – This 15-day interactive experience is your practical guide to mastering intuition and universal connection. Through daily videos, you’ll develop a reliable method for accessing, trusting, and acting on your inner wisdom while tackling the core obstacles between you and your soul’s path.
ON PURPOSE – Forget searching for purpose – let’s find aliveness instead. This masterclass offers a refreshing 4-step process to discover meaning in your life. Because the real question isn’t “What’s my purpose?” but “How can I live with deeper significance?”
PAUSE & PIVOT – An 8-lesson journey into creating your own graceful daily routine. Learn how to align your daily practices with your core values and non-negotiables, understanding that different days call for different approaches to life.

And for those of you feeling called to bring more magic and intention into your daily life – I have something close to my heart for you.
a planner-and-journal-in one specifically designed for the intuitive, magical woman you are, is available in its final print run. This isn’t just another planner – it’s a sacred space for your dreams, your intuitive hits, your magical moments, and your practical plans to weave together.
I won’t be creating more once this batch finds their homes, so if you’ve been feeling that nudge to elevate how you plan and dream… this is your moment.
As we stand on the threshold of a new year, gifting yourself this tool is more than a purchase – it’s a commitment to your future self, a declaration that you’re ready to plan with both purpose and magic.
Reply here or DM me for yours.

your questions answered
Recently, I opened up my Instagram for an AMA (Ask Me Anything), and your questions touched me deeply. They reflect so much of what we’re all navigating – from setting intentions mindfully to finding love, from moving through grief to embracing self-compassion.
Here are my thoughts on some of these beautiful questions…
1. On Setting Intentions for 2025
“How can we set intentions about how we want to feel in 2025, rather than just making resolutions?”
Instead of creating a rigid list of goals, try this: Close your eyes and imagine yourself on December 31st, 2025. How do you want to feel in your body, your spirit, your relationships? What sensations do you want to experience daily? Maybe it’s feeling grounded and peaceful, or perhaps alive and electric with creativity. Let these desired feelings guide your choices rather than external measures of success.
2. On Trust and Surrender
“Can you speak about letting go of expectations and trusting the path?”
Letting go of expectations has been my greatest teacher this year. Trust isn’t about knowing the outcome – it’s about believing in your ability to handle whatever comes. Start small: practice releasing control in tiny moments, notice how life flows more easily when you loosen your grip. The path reveals itself one step at a time.
3. On Navigating Grief
“How do you move through grief during the holiday season?”
Grief during the holidays feels especially heavy because joy and sorrow dance so closely together. Honour your grief as a reflection of your love. Create small rituals to acknowledge both what was and what is. Light a candle, write letters, cry when you need to. Remember that healing isn’t linear – some days will be harder than others, and that’s perfectly okay.
4. On Writing Practice
“Any advice for starting and growing a writing practice?”
Start before you feel ready. Write for yourself first, without judgment. Set aside sacred time – even just 10 minutes daily – where you meet yourself on the page. Don’t edit as you write; let it flow raw and real. Your voice will emerge naturally through consistency and courage.
You might also enjoy my article: everything I know about how to write…5. On Finding Love
“Would you share your journey of finding love?”
After focusing on my relationship with myself, nurturing my own growth, and getting clear about my non-negotiables, love appeared naturally. Not as a chase or a game, but as a recognition of souls. I’ll devote a longer article on this in the future.
6. On Course Creation
“What’s your biggest lesson after years of creating courses?”
The biggest lesson? Authenticity over perfection, always. People don’t connect with polished perfection – they connect with genuine sharing, with vulnerability, with real stories of transformation. Every course I’ve created has taught me to trust my unique way of seeing and sharing.
7. On Life’s Flow
“How do you relax into just trusting life and yourself? How do you find the confidence to believe that life feels good?”
It’s a daily practice of choosing trust over fear. Build evidence: keep a journal of all the times life worked out better than you could have planned. Notice the synchronicities, the “coincidences,” the magical moments that arise when you relax into flow. Your confidence in life’s goodness grows with each recognized blessing.
I share more on this here: how I taught myself to make my own life; here: let go of control: body leads, mind follows; here: not ready; and here: not yet.
8. On Healing and Love
“Can you speak about finding true love after disappointment and big heartbreak?”
Upon request, I have many articles on this topic including: I’ve been heartbroken many times and a 28-step guide to heartbreak 💔
Heartbreak can be our greatest teacher if we let it. Each disappointment helped me refine what I truly wanted and needed in love. The key is not to close your heart but to keep it open while raising your standards. True love often arrives when we’ve done the work of loving ourselves through the healing process.
Before I wrap this up, I want to pour my heart out to you.
Your presence here, reading these words, sharing this journey – it means everything. The dreams and visions I have brewing for what’s ahead make my heart race with excitement. I can’t wait to unfold them with you, to share all that’s been growing in my mind and heart.
This is just the beginning of something beautiful, and I’m so grateful you’re here for it.
-
facial girly
on beauty, lasers = the very intense, very effective facial treament I had done, & finding love when you look like toast

My face looked like I had rolled it in coffee grounds. I was swollen like a chipmunk with pillowy under-eye bags you could pack a set of lingerie in.
“You look so beautiful” he said dreamily staring at me from across the sofa. This man is clearly insane/in love, I thought to myself, mentally calculating how many more hours until the swelling would subside enough for me to venture out in public again.
The day before I had been to see a dermatologist in Lisbon to get the first of three BBL Forever Young Light Treatment sessions done to treat some stubborn pigmentation that was steadily corralling into a dense forest of shadows on my forehead peaks and jaw-to-neck areas. Think topographical map of the Himalayas, but in various shades of brown.
I had spent my 20s feeling invisible to life’s inevitable decomposition running around under an ozone hole in Australia, armed with nothing but youthful invincibility and coconut oil. While I am olive-skinned thanks to my Italian father, I also have a tendency to inconsistent melanin thanks to my Austrian mother – a genetic cocktail that left me with skin that couldn’t quite decide what it wanted to be when it grew up.
Freckles are cute but brown patches that shadow the skin less so. Am I needlessly vain? Maybe. I spent the past decade repenting for my sins and trying a range of ‘natural’ treatments, becoming something of an unwitting guinea pig for every trendy skincare solution that promised salvation.
Vitamin C serums did nothing for me except drain my wallet and stain my pillowcases orange. Nor did Living Libations expensive miracle oil Dew Dab, which only succeeded in making me smell like a hippie’s medicine cabinet. Microneedling made my skin plump and luminous but the brown shadows remained, stubbornly unmoved by my thousand tiny sacrificial wounds. Sunscreen kept them in place like a preservative for my shame.
Every summer the freckles on my nose and cheeks deepened which I loved – they gave me that sun-kissed, carefree look I craved. But so did the uneven patches which I hated. They acted as reminders of the lack of care I had for myself and skin once upon a time, like permanent Post-it notes from my younger self saying “Remember when you thought you were invincible?”
When I arrived in Portugal 2.5 months ago I made a promise to finally handle the boring parts of self-care: see a gynecologist for my once-every-10-years checkup (lol, please don’t judge, these sorts of things are just not that important to me until they become absolutely necessary), go to the dentist for a clean and to fill two fillings that had fallen and been bothering me (turns out teeth don’t actually heal themselves), book in with a dermatologist, get a haircut. You know, all those adult things that pile up while you’re busy living life.
At the dermatologist’s office he took a scan of my skin murmuring things like “you have very big pores” (thank you, I hadn’t noticed them in the mirror I torture myself with daily) and “your skin is inflamed” (a polite way of saying my face looked angry at the world). Then he asked me questions about how I felt about it. I told him about the hyperpigmentation. He told me he had the perfect solution. A series of three BBL Forever Young Light treatments. I told him I’d need to do some research on them and would need to think about it, secretly already knowing I’d say yes. Then I had a hydrafacial (highly recommend) with a wonderful beautician who at 55, could be a walking ad for every treatment in the place. I walked out feeling hydrated, glowy and on a perfect skin high.
That night the man who is now my boyfriend whom I had only met a few times kissed me and on some subconscious level I decided it was because my skin was dewy and delightful like never before. Isn’t it funny how we attribute every good thing that happens to whatever we last did to “improve” ourselves?
A few days later I contacted the dermatologist’s office and agreed to go ahead with the treatment, my bank account weeping quietly in the corner. To prep I had to put on sunscreen every day twice a day for a month – an Olympic sport level of responsible adulting.
A week before my next appointment I told my new boyfriend “I have to go to Lisbon for an appointment next Friday. Do you want to come?” trying to sound casual while internally drafting contingency plans for how to hide my face from him afterward.
“Of course!” he replied, with the enthusiasm of someone who had no idea what they were signing up for. He blocked out his calendar with a big pink rectangle that said 1ST LISBON DATE, making my heart simultaneously melt and cringe at what was to come.
Inviting him was a mistake.
Wait. I mean. We had a wonderful time!
We went to a secret magical cafe in a Theatre overlooking the city (the kind of place that makes you feel like you’re in a Wes Anderson film) and ate delicious fried tofu ramen at Panda Cantina and walked through the Christmas markets, our hands intertwined like we’d been doing this forever. Then we parted ways while I went to my appointment and he sat in a cafe eating cake and reading Murakami’s latest book, living his best main character life while I went off to voluntarily torture myself.
It’s the moments after this that I regret.
I had no idea what I was about to put myself through. In retrospect, this is probably why they make you sign waivers – to prevent people like me from dramatically declaring “Nobody told me it would be like this!” afterward.
First I signed said waiver, which I did not read, because I was already there and going to do it so why should I read it (future me would like to have a word with past me about this decision). And then I was walked into a sterilized room that looked like a cross between a spa and a sci-fi movie set, laid on a table and tucked in with blankets like a beauty treatment burrito.
Then the beautician silently spread some clear gel all over my face – cold, thick, and abundant enough to make a slug feel at home. She placed tiny speed racing goggles over my eyes that made me feel like a very small, very nervous Formula 1 driver. “Tell me if it hurts too much,” she says with the casual tone of someone who’s about to do something that definitely hurts. “How much is too much?” I ask, already regretting every life choice that led me here. “So much that you can’t stand it.” “Ok” I mumble from underneath a pound of gel, wondering if it’s too late to make a run for it.
She begins, zapping at specific areas. I smell hair, singed and burnt – my own hair. She finds another tool and runs it across every part of my face, concentrating on the pigmented areas. It stings like angry bees doing the cha-cha on my face. She returns to zapping specific areas. And continues alternating back and forth for an hour, which feels like approximately seven years in beauty treatment time.
It’s not comfortable but it’s also not unbearable, like a really intense game of “how much do you want perfect skin?” I try to focus on staying relaxed, mentally reciting my skincare mantras: “Beauty is pain,” “No pain no gain,” and “Why did I do this to myself?”
At the end she softly whispers “All done!” and unwraps me like a Christmas present that’s been returned slightly damaged. As she walks me back to the reception she asks me how my skin feels. “Spicy!” I reply, meaning like I’ve just french-kissed a volcano. She looks at my face more closely and excitedly says “You have the perfect skin for this treatment! All the hyperpigmentation is going to get much much darker over the next few days. And then fall off. I can’t wait to see the results!” Her enthusiasm would be contagious if my face wasn’t currently hosting its own personal inferno.
I text my boyfriend. I’m so sorry. I’m done now. The appointment had run late. What I really meant was “Please still love me even though I look like I’ve been slow-roasted over a BBQ.”
Outside I feel foolish and embarrassed, like a child who’s been caught trying on their mother’s makeup – except the makeup is my actual face and it’s screaming for help. I don’t want him to see me like this. He remains tactful and kind and orders us an Uber home, pretending not to notice that I’m trying to hide behind my hair like a sheepish sheepdog.
The next day, sitting on the sofa across from him, forcefully resisting my desire to run home, to not be seen by the man that I want to be cute and pretty and attractive in front of, he reassures me that with or without the treatment he loves me and thinks I am beautiful. And in that moment, I realise that maybe the real treatment wasn’t the laser at all, but learning to be seen at my worst and still feel loved.
The days following occur exactly as the beautician suggested. The redness and swelling disappeared, the dark shadows became darker – making me look like I’d tried to apply self-tanner with my eyes closed – I wore sunglasses whenever we went out and hid myself indoors as much as I could, until finally a week later a new skin emerged, like a butterfly from a very expensive chrysalis.
Tiny invisible pores! Zero pigmentation! Even skin tone! Baby soft! No need to wear makeup ever again! It was like someone had hit the reset button on my face, erasing a decade of sun damage and poor life choices.
It was a miracle. An expensive, slightly painful miracle, but a miracle nonetheless.
I never expected the treatment to be so effective. And it’s only the first of three. (My wallet quietly sobs in the corner.)
I fought with my vanity and insecurities and the shame I had around having vanity and insecurities – that peculiar modern paradox of wanting to look perfect while pretending not to care about looking perfect. I battled with being seen at my worst. I faced unexpected pain. And was rewarded with a 10-year dream: perfect skin. Or at least, perfect enough to make peace with the imperfect journey that got me here.
As it turns out, sometimes the path to self-acceptance involves a few laser beams and a very understanding boyfriend.
-
I’ve been heartbroken many times
and there’s only one way to get through it (working title: how to heal after a breakup)

I still loved him when I left him. The last long-term relationship of mine. Even when the kisses dried up and our lips rasped past each other, more out of habit than affection. Even when the future was hopeless and we knew that our love is not enough.
The next time I nursed a broken heart, I did everything I could to move on.
It is 2021. I feel restless in my life and my body. A year of confinement to a small corner of the world is unfamiliar to me. I keep trying to convince myself that I chose this. That this is good for me. That it has already taught me so much. That this too will pass.
It is the last day of lockdown in the U.K. I will myself to go outside.
I pull on leggings and layers, Spring has not warmed this part of the world enough yet. I tie the laces on my trainers. No headphones, I want to hear the world today. I walk to the sea and turn left. Past crowds of people in their Sunday best and worst, past a cute skater girl in baggy jeans and a tie-dye t-shirt, past a dozen fish and chip stands, past new outdoor seating and eating spaces prepared for the new world that begins tomorrow.
The seafront feels like the day before a festival, the carousel being tested and repaired, the restaurants offering tents set up with carpets to provide outdoor dining options. I walk until my legs start to ache and the path ends at a hidden car park filled with mobile homes and caravans and gypsy girls in long skirts eating from metal plates sitting on the black asphalt.
They remind me of a decade past when I used to live like them and give me heady nostalgia for a life filled with the freedom of few cares beyond the next meal and the next place to sleep.
Here, I smile at them and wave, and spin around to return to the life I call my own.
There, I made a pact not to throw myself into love as easily next time.
Heartbreak feels like a slow unravelling.
The rhythm of your thoughts shifts; the things that once made sense no longer do.
It’s disorienting, like trying to find your footing on unsteady ground. And while it’s tempting to escape — to distract yourself with noise, busyness, or fleeting moments of comfort — the truth is, heartbreak doesn’t let you run.
The only way out is through.
And the only way through is this: to take all the love, care, and thought you poured into someone else and pour it back into yourself.
Guess, for a moment, how much of yourself you gave away.
How your thoughts revolved around their needs, their dreams, their happiness. How you moulded parts of your life to fit theirs, sometimes without even noticing. It’s so easy to lose yourself in another person, to blur the lines between where you end and they begin.
And when it ends, and those ties are severed, you’re left untethered — adrift, searching for the pieces of yourself you gave away.
The only way to untangle yourself from that is to take all that focus, all that love, all that energy, and pour it back into you. Not in fragments, but wholly, deliberately, and with the same intensity you once reserved for them.
What dreams of your own need championing? What parts of your happiness have gone ignored? What would it look like to make yourself the centre of your world again?
Start there, and rebuild.
Start with the essentials.
Heartbreak is heavy, and it takes a toll on the body as much as the soul. Sleep when you can. Nourish yourself, even if all you can manage are small, simple meals. Let your body move, whether that’s walking aimlessly until the ache subsides or finding a quiet space to stretch and feel your breath steadying. These small acts may not feel profound, but they are the roots of healing — tender reminders to yourself that you are worth tending to.
Turn inward.
Heartbreak thrives on loops — the endless replay of what was said, what wasn’t, what could have been. Rather than fighting these thoughts, give your mind something else to hold. Learn something new. Return to something old you loved but abandoned. Write, even if the words don’t make sense. Read stories that inspire you. Let your curiosity lead you, gently coaxing your attention away from the wound and towards possibility.
Nurture your heart.
Heartbreak offers renewal. Reconnect with the parts of your life that aren’t tied to what you’ve lost. Seek out the people who see you, the ones who remind you of who you were before. Laugh with them, even if it feels strained at first. If you’re lucky enough to have someone who will simply sit beside you in silence, let them. If you don’t, find small moments of connection elsewhere — a conversation with a kind stranger, a shared glance with someone who understands. These moments, however fleeting, are reminders that the world hasn’t stopped spinning and that it still holds beauty for you.
There isn’t a quick fix. Healing from heartbreak is an act of patience and devotion. Some days, you’ll feel strong — alive, even — and others will pull you back under. Every time you choose to redirect your love inward, you’re rebuilding. Slowly, quietly, but undeniably.
And one day, without even realising it, you’ll notice that the ache has softened.
You’ll look around at the life you’ve been creating and see something remarkable: a version of yourself who is not only whole but expansive. A self who knows how to love deeply, but now understands how to be loved in return — starting from within.
Keep going. For as long as it takes. Until it stops hurting.
It’s the only way.
-
3 lessons…
to remain centred and grounded no matter what is happening around you.

It’s the last day of October 2024. The veil is thin. The spirits and ancestors are calling my name.
I ask them.
What do I need to know, for the next steps of my life, now?
They reply in chorus.
What will I sacrifice to receive the gifts I long for:
love,
truth and
happiness?I always sacrifice the same thing.
The illusion of certainty, of a guaranteed reality, a blind belief in absolutes.
I sacrifice the comforting fantasy that I understand the world and know what will come next. In doing so I am liberated from despair and disbelief every time the world changes.
Because when you are so close to the nexus of your soul it’s easy to remain centred and grounded no matter what is happening around you.
They gift me 3 lessons.
☾
- Love
The spiritual path, at its true essence, is the path of love.
But like the universe itself—ever-expanding, ever-evolving—our understanding of love’s expression must also transform.
When I first threaded spirituality into my life in my early twenties, it was all about detachment: being the witness, the observer, the one who floats above life’s currents. We thought enlightenment meant watching life unfold from a safe distance, like viewing a play through opera glasses. How naive we were, how incomplete our understanding.
My ancestors chant.
The veil has thinned not just between worlds, but between being and doing.
Spirituality has metamorphosed from observant to immersive. From ‘being’ love to ‘acting’ from love. From theoretical to embodied.
Their question echoes with each heartbeat:
How are you, as a spiritual being wearing human skin, actively engaging with life? Now? And now? And now? Are your actions in alignment with your thoughts, your words, your essence? The question persists like a pulse: Now? And now? And now?
There’s not much room left for lies in this new spiritual landscape. Incongruence burns like acid on bare skin. I feel it in my bones when my actions betray my truth.
The ancestors whisper.
True spirituality isn’t about escaping the human experience—it’s about diving deeper into its waters, letting every wave of emotion and experience wash over you while keeping your heart open and your spirit anchored in love.
Like the ancient Sufi mystic Rumi once wrote: “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”
In this age of quickening, love demands more than passive observation. It demands action, engagement, embodiment. It asks us to be both the lover and the beloved, the observer and the observed, the dancer and the dance.
☾
- Truth
Truth begins at home, in the sacred temple of self.
For eleven years, I’ve walked the path of the independent creator—mentor, writer, artist, weaving stories and wisdom into the world’s tapestry.
The ancestors echo.
This truth is both ancient and immediate: your feminine power, your creative force, your accumulated wisdom—these are not merely gifts to be scattered like seeds in the wind, but precious medicines to be properly valued and consciously shared. The old way of endless giving must transform into mindful offering.
I feel resistance rise within me. A part of my spirit wants to create endlessly, to pour forth like a spring, making everything freely available to all who thirst. But the ancestors remind me: that even the most sacred springs are often protected by temple walls.
The ancestors tell me to listen carefully.
Your work needs more structure now. Put your best writing behind a paywall—people value what they pay for. Keep sharing some content freely to draw in those who resonate, but make your deepest insights exclusive. Create a clear journey for your people. Your time is finite. Your energy is precious. Your wisdom is valuable. Price it accordingly.
True abundance flows not from endless giving, but from rightful exchange. When I value myself appropriately, I teach others how to value themselves. When I protect my energy wisely, I show others how to honour their own boundaries. When I price my work consciously, I demonstrate that spiritual wisdom and material respect can dance together in harmony.
This is the new paradigm of feminine leadership: not the martyr who gives until she’s empty, but the woman who knows her worth, the creatrix who channels her gifts with discernment, the wise woman who understands that proper boundaries don’t limit her light—they help it shine more brightly.
☾
- Happiness
The ancestors laugh.
You cannot create on the outside what you haven’t first embodied on the inside.
I understand now. I’ve been trying to force my environment to match my longing for idleness. This approach caught me frantically rearranging my external world to create space for stillness.
I must first learn to be idle within myself, even amidst activity.
To cultivate that sense of unhurried presence in my own being, regardless of external circumstances. To embody that quality of being “gloriously, unapologetically present” in my own nervous system before I can manifest it in my life.
Just as I became my own anchor, I must become my own stillness.
It’s about transforming my internal relationship with time, productivity, and presence. About being able to walk slowly even when the world runs, to remain unhurried even amidst deadlines, to stay connected to that deep current of peace even when the surface of life ripples with activity.
The ancestors nod.
The outer world will reshape itself once you’ve reshaped your inner landscape. But you must do the inner work first. Always first.
☾
The veil is thin and with it old illusions fall away.
My ancestors’ gifts are living instructions for navigating this complex world.
-
I spent 2 weeks with the patriarchy
& it really sucked. Things got weird, way too quickly.

I am sitting in Palermo Airport. It’s 10:20. My flight doesn’t leave until 15.30. But I had to change my plans. To get off that boat. I was not expecting to find myself in an airport again so soon, yet here I am. Things got weird, way too quickly.
When the universe hands you a neon sign saying ‘EXIT,’ you don’t wait for the next showing.
Sometimes we try things, and they don’t work out. Sometimes those things involve million-dollar catamarans, mid-life crises, and a crash course in advanced patriarchy studies.
Dear reader, before we begin I want to clarify that I’m not normally exposed to people like this, who I call ‘normcore’ or ‘normies’. Due to my particular lifestyle and work, I tend to attract a certain quality of people who actively practice self-awareness and self-responsibility. So while you may be nodding your head and thinking “This is normal” it is not, to me, and the world that I choose to cultivate. It has shown me how necessary the work I do in the world is, and how much more accessible it needs to be to every ‘normcore’ ‘normie’.
☾
He scanned my body seconds into our introduction, his eyes doing the dance of the seven veils across my waist, hips, and eyes. I could practically hear the internal ‘cha-ching’ of approval. Welcome aboard the S.S. Objectification, population: me and my exhausted cat.
☾
The UK won’t let you fly out of the country with pets so we circumnavigate this obstacle. A taxi to the port. A ferry across the English Channel. A bus to the train station. A train to Paris. A tiny hotel room in the 8th arrondissement with perfect views.
In the morning I shower and slip on my already-worn travel clothes. Black Free People leggings and a soft green t-shirt plus double denim jackets, one a stone-washed black, the other quilted and blue. I have to be practical to carry my body weight in luggage including my cat.
☾
A taxi to the airport. An orange juice to quench the travel-stress-induced sore throat and thirst. A flight to Menorca. A taxi to another port. By the end, I felt like I’d starred in my own version of ‘Planes, Trains, and Automobiles’ – with a feline co-star.
There I meet Alain. He comments on the weight of my bag and I counter that it’s hard to pack light when you don’t know where you’re going and there’s no going back.
We take his dingy (that he keeps calling dinky) to his million-dollar catamaran. I make a makeshift toilet out of an Amazon box, fill it with litter and let my cat out to explore, while Alain shows me around.
Alain is a French-speaking Belgian with limited English skills. Our conversations are simple and halted. I often translate French phrases even though I don’t speak French but understand enough to get by.
I can tell he is confused by me. Unimpressed by his obvious wealth, I do not attempt to charm or delight him. He has kind blue eyes that wink at me too often in a both lustful and fatherly way. The lustre of his once handsome youth has not quite faded. He comes from a generation of men deeply steeped in internalised patriarchy and I have zero interest in playing into his biases.
I do not need nor want anything from him and that makes me free.
He started as a hairdresser, he tells me. And then through luck and business acumen became Europe’s second-largest importer of gold and precious metals. Until the company went bankrupt and he took a few years off living in the Caribbean. That part of the story makes me think some suspect dealings were going on. Now he has a construction company in Belgium that is run by his son and daughter.
The patriarchy is chivalrous and generous but every act feels counted and measured to be paid for. Transactional.
I don’t feel he is sincere. I start to put my guard up. After unpacking I tell him I am tired and go to bed. He seems disappointed and confused.
☾
On our first day together, anchored in a small bay in Menorca while we wait for his school friends to arrive in a few days to join us, we share antipasto and some wine in the afternoon.
After one glass he leans close and says “Don’t be afraid. I want to kiss you.”
I recoil and answer “no”.
Not only do I not want to which is enough reason, but I also am unwilling to compromise myself when I’m already in a vulnerable position.
Plus, he’s the same age as my father, were he still alive.
For the next 48 hours, our island exploration becomes a battleground of wits and wills. He lobs inappropriate comments about my body, gender, and sex like verbal grenades, while I deflect them with shields of feminine power and independence. We’re engaged in an absurd dance, his patriarchal peacocking met with my unyielding resistance.
My friend Jackson, ever the strategist, suggests I fight fire with fire. So, I reluctantly lower myself into the mud pit of this verbal sparring match. I find myself slinging barbs about his age and loneliness, reminding him that I’m not here to play saviour to his midlife crisis.
I can’t help but wonder: Is this what passes for social interaction in his world, or have I stumbled into a poorly written sitcom about mismatched travel buddies?
The patriarchy is a young boy, abandoned at 14, trying to make his way through life and desperate for love.
On the third day, we talk about integrity and authenticity and how important both are to me. He becomes silent and still. Finally, I have touched a real part of him. The part of him that knows that love and affection are not transactional but has accrued wealth to feel worthy of it. He is suffering under the patriarchy too.
☾
When I first agreed to this trip, we had a plan: a 3-month trial period. We would start in Spain and slowly make our way from there to Italy, Greece, and then Turkey. From the first day of my arrival, Alain keeps changing the itinerary.
Every day it is something new. Tunisia. Croatia. Montenegro. By the end of the two weeks, he decided to put the catamaran onto the harbour in Sicily for 5 months and imagined me to live with him. It was not what I had signed up for.
☾
His friends join us and alleviate the intensity.
I watch the three friends love and care for each other. It’s heartening to see. They are blind to the privilege that protects them from the suffering and diminishment that others have to face.
Confounded by the wives who have left them and the girlfriends who don’t trust them they wonder why everyone is left feeling lonely and starved. “I worked so hard!” they are exasperated. “I gave everything I had!” They’re not wrong.
They have also been robbed by the patriarchy. Never taught to feel and surrender to their humanness. Always thinking they can fix every problem by working harder and accruing more. Everyone is suffering. No one feels met, seen or fulfilled in this system.
The patriarchy is 3 giggling schoolboys in the bodies of mid-50’s white men. Ignorant to their privilege and power.
They don’t know about how many women I know are faced with the sharp slap of being disempowered by the system that credits men when they bear children. Automatically, the naming of their children, ownership, and important decisions are deferred to the man.
Patriachary is mostly invisible until ruling forces show their hands.
☾
Within hours we set off. Menorca to Sardinia.
The seas are wild and the waves high. All the men get seasick, their pink faces turning shades of white and grey. Even my cat vomits in response to the 4-metre rolling surges. I read and write and skip meals while they eat despite their sickness, as we all wait for the 2-day journey to come to an end.
In Sardinia we refuel and they decide to press on. Sicily is another 3 days sailing away and they have a flight out of Palermo at the end of the week.
I slowly get to know his friends.
We come from such different worlds they don’t know how to relate to me. They think I’m a loner because I don’t join them for large parts of the day but the truth is that I prefer my company to theirs when they are rolling around seasick, making crude jokes and speaking French most of the time.
I am resourced in caring for my well-being and don’t need to belong to the group to feel safe. To them, this is strange.
☾
It’s Saturday. I arrived on this watery adventure Saturday a week ago. Today, I can’t stop weeping. Tears flood from my eyes and I take myself away into my cabin to cry and sob and let it out. My nervous system is on edge.
I don’t want to be here anymore.
Amidst the tears, I have an epiphany. I realise I’ve broken a generational pattern of making misaligned decisions out of a need for survival.
The power imbalance is exactly what the patriarchy preys on. They need us to need them. But it never works out for anyone. We all end up hurt and resentful. And then women a deemed ‘crazy’ because we have to reclaim our power in unconventional ways because we are not resourced enough otherwise.
It feels so good to keep saying “no” to Alain’s propositions. Accepting or acceding to him comes at a cost that I am not willing to pay. He has never encountered a whole woman, a free woman, a woman who neither needs nor wants anything from him.
It’s fascinating to observe my journey with my own internalised patriarchy.
With my last long-term relationship, I slipped into the ‘perfect woman’ mould. I cooked and cleaned and cared and on top of that, I ran a business and paid half the bills and half the mortgage (that I was never repaid for).
Now, I have no inclination to prove my worth or lovability through female labour. I nurture and care if and when I want to freely. And withhold it as easily. My actions and choices come from a pure place. Because I am self-resourced.
This confounds the patriarchy who are conditioned to a system of exchange based on a need of survival from those who are oppressed and under-resourced. It’s easy to hold the power when the other has none.
☾
Eventually, we find a connection point as I astound them with my impeccable music taste. One night, we share songs and dance.
The patriarchy does all the cooking. Because I can’t relax enough to scrape together a meal beyond carrots sticks and cheese slices. If meals are left to me we starve. They cook. I wash up.
After 5 days at sea, we are all glad to return to land. I never imagined the tension build up in my body from the constant motion of sailing. A stress response to the unnatural feeling of being thrown back and forth relentlessly.
Upon arriving, desperate to speak to anyone not on our boat, I introduce myself to our neighbours who tell me that no skilled sailor would consider crossing in those conditions. It gives me a new perspective on Alain, his skills as a sailor and my safety on his vessel.
☾
As we finally stumble back onto solid ground in Palermo, I have a heart-to-heart with one of Alain’s friends. Turns out, I’m not the only one who felt unsafe and uncomfortable. He says he hated every second of the journey. He wishes he had never come on this trip. That Alain is behaving strangely. We agree that he is not well. It’s a small comfort, but I’ll take it.
Alain’s advances continue. When he catches me in tears he sends me a message that says “I wish I could hold you in my arms to comfort you”. It makes my skin crawl. I don’t want this man to touch me, ever. I don’t reply.
☾
On Wednesday I again am filled with tears. When I think I’ve cried it all out I rejoin the group and we explore the city of Palermo but the tears don’t stop. They notice and I tell them I am feeling emotional and need space. I hide behind sunglasses and try to focus on the astounding history, art and beauty of Sicily. Spirituality is devotion to beauty, I think to myself in admiration.
But I know now, that it’s time to go.
☾
On Thursday I book a flight. His friends leave today and it will just be Alain and me again. I am unwilling to face that.
On Friday over cappuccinos and cornettos at a patisseria I say to Alain “Alain” he looks up at me “I am leaving on Sunday. And I’m not coming back.” he nods, silently. Understood. He offers me to stay on the boat until then. “I can take an Airbnb,” I say. “No, please stay” he counters.
The patriarchy pretends it doesn’t know what it wants and is fine and chill and cool with everything but doesn’t know how to communicate how it feels and it wants directly and clearly and is boiling with anger and frustration underneath.
☾
Grateful and relieved, on Saturday I sunbathe and swim and read. For the first time, Alain leaves me alone. This is more like what I thought the experience would be like. Peaceful.
As I pack up my life once again, I reflect on this bizarre nautical chapter. It wasn’t the adventure I signed up for, but it was the lesson I needed. I’ve emerged stronger, wiser, and with a newfound appreciation for solid ground.
Sunday I get up early clean my cabin and bathroom and dive off the boat to swim one last time. I am ready to leave. He takes me to shore in the dingy and we have an awkward goodbye. “Thank you for an interesting time,” I say. “Have a nice life.” He mumbles something. I don’t care what he has to say. I’m ready to go.
-
idle
the antidote to hustle culture, urgency culture, consumer culture and capitalism

Yesterday was the first day of the rest of my life, and I wept with relief and happiness.
I never planned this.
I had no idea this was where we would end up. But I do live with the philosophy of saying yes to life and letting life, in her ultimate intelligence, guide and lead me.
I knew that there was a craving deep inside my soul.
So loud, so pure, so uncompromising that I could not ignore it. I wanted to extract myself from the world of constant distractions: always something to do, someone to see, something to add to the list, social media, TV shows, work, more work, more stuff to buy to numb my inertia.
Since 2020 happened I have been caught in a cycle of distraction, less able to sit quietly with myself or truly engage with the world around me.
I craved to replace this constant noise with being wholly consumed with the simplicity of living. So much so that I did not need nor want distraction from living and being.
I had to learn to be idle.
This morning I woke up to the sunrise, red streaks across the horizon of a purple sky, stripped naked and dove into the sea. This, I thought, is a start. I intend to spend my days teaching, talking, writing, creating, singing, playing, swimming, lounging and laughing.
Work is there. It anchors me and I am happy to have those commitments. And…
Mostly: I will be idle.
A month ago, I threw my hands up in the air and said, “Universe, I’ve run out of ideas. This next step is on you. You work it out. Because I can’t do this by myself.”
One kismet conversation led to another, and suddenly I was offered an invitation to move onto a beautiful catamaran with my cat and our friend Captain Alain to sail the world. It felt like the universe answering my call, offering me a chance to step out of the repetition of ‘normal’ life and rediscover a more nourishing form.
We are in the Balearic Islands on Menorca. In a few days when the winds pick up we are heading to my paternal origins of Sardinia, then south to Sicily, the Greek Islands, down to Tunisia, across to Turkey and then… let’s see.
I hope to break free from the piercing, anxious apathy that brews in the blood and rediscover the joy of being fully present in each moment. It’s a step towards reclaiming my agency and capacity to act rather than passively consuming out of a need for distraction.
In my journey to embrace a simpler, more fulfilling life, I’ve come to understand that there are two kinds of people.
— There are those obsessed with outcomes, desperately seeking stability, willing to sacrifice everything to achieve that goal.
— There are those who have let go of fixating on outcomes, instead pouring themselves fully into the fluid unpredictability of the present moment and the process itself.
For me — those living deeply in the moment — are truly the ones who are more vivid and alive.
It’s not the ultra-disciplined person with a rigid lifestyle and endless list of goals who inspires me. Rather, I’m drawn to those who take the time to walk slowly, who dedicate themselves to a cherished hobby, or who can simply lay back and lose themselves in passions for hours.
These are the people who embody the essence of what it means to truly live and love.
In embracing this way of life — one that values presence, simplicity, and active care — we find ourselves more inspired and alive.
By focusing on the process rather than obsessing over outcomes, by nurturing the conditions for growth rather than fixating on the end result, we not only find more fulfilment in our own lives but also become a source of inspiration and support for others.
This is how we truly learn to love… ourselves, others, and the world around us.
In a world obsessed with hustle and bustle, where every second is monetised and optimised, there’s a quiet rebellion brewing.
It’s the art of being gloriously, unapologetically idle.
Not lazy, but present. Alive.
Awake to the whispers of the world that we usually rush past.
Idleness isn’t about doing nothing; it’s about doing nothing particularly “productive” and finding it spectacularly fulfilling.
It’s life, raw and unfiltered, served straight up with a twist of kismet serendipity.
We’ve forgotten, in our mad dash to achieve and acquire, that we’re dancing animals at heart. We love to move, to explore, to simply be.
Somewhere along the way, we traded our dance shoes for computer screens and our curiosity for convenience.
Here’s the secret: In the spaces between the urgent emails and the rushed commutes, real life is waiting.
It’s in the idle moments, the apparently “unproductive” times, that we stumble upon joy, connection, and meaning. It’s where we remember who we are beyond our job titles and social media profiles.
So here’s my invitation:
Join me in embracing idleness as a radical act of self-love and rebellion.
To reclaim our right to wander, wonder, and yes, to faff about. Because in a world that demands we constantly prove our worth through busyness and acquisition, choosing to be idle is choosing to be fully human.
-
the cult of youth
ageing as a process of becoming one self and thriving beyond ‘middle-age’ because the markers have moved

I have a Pinterest board of women, ageing gracefully. They are wrinkling, greying, vibrant, alive and beautiful. In a world that fetishises youth like it’s the last avocado toast on Earth, I created this board and look at it frequently to prime my brain for the future.
Sometimes I find a white hair shimmering amongst my brown ones and admire it. Sometimes I pull it out reactively and immediately wonder why I did that. Did I just assault my own wisdom? Sometimes I look in the mirror and see that the bouncy suppleness of my skin is melting into something that can only be described as… well, tired? I have a skin routine to combat it, and people tell me it’s working, which boosts my vanity faster than you can say “retinol.”
As a millennial privileged with growing older, I am not immune to the flashy world of plastic unlined skin and coloured hair that belies our true nature.
At the same time, I think it’s important to note that our aspirations and ideas about ageing are changing so fast, maturing and growing older and wiser is something to be embraced, and how we age can be a choice.
Research tells us that most people under 50 are going to live to 120.
Examples:
— A new study by Washington University shows there is an 89% chance that someone will live to 126 during the 21st century.
— Living to 120 is becoming an imaginable prospect.
— Perhaps the greatest human accomplishment of the past century was the remarkable increase in life expectancy.
That means that if you’re under 50—which I understand to be most of us here in this community if we have the fortune of being healthy, educated and well-resourced to take care of ourselves—you’re only a third of the way in your life.
Knowing that, changes the way we move through our lives.
There’s no rush! We have no timeline to adhere to. Life is long! At the same time, death is imminent, and what we do with our life is all that matters. It’s like being at an all-you-can-eat buffet that lasts 120 years – pace yourselves, but also, maybe try the dessert first sometimes?
Last year I decided to stop telling people my age. Sometimes I lie about it.
Not because I have any shame around it. Because I refuse to allow others’ projections of what is deemed socially acceptable for my age group to dictate my life. Most people still operate on an old trajectory of go to school, get married, have babies, build a career somewhere in between, and then retire.
If you’ve followed that course, your life is supposedly “done” by 50.
By modern standards, it means you still have another 70 years to go! What do you do then? Learn to juggle? Master underwater basket weaving? Start again?
Let’s revise this set of life expectations. Here’s a new perspective.
Every human life has its own timeline, journey and course. There is no linear path. You never arrive. And you can do anything you want any time you want in between the two doorways of birth and death. You are a soul tied to a body. An individual tied to the collective. It’s up to you to decide what you do with your life.
The only expectation…
To live the life that your soul asks for. A path meant solely for you. One that only you can devise from the depths of yourself by checking in and choosing heart-mind-body-soul-intuition alignment over and over again, moment to moment.
I am fortunate to be sourrounded by a community of like-minded souls who also delicately attempt to curate a life of their own, on their own terms. I like to think that the adage is true that we attract those most like us and act as mirrors for one another.
Often they send me truly kind words (my Leo sun laps them up) about my apparent youthful- and attractive-ness.
I like to think that the more preconceived notions and conditioning I release the lighter and more open (attractive) I become. In doing so I completely reframe ageing as a process of becoming one self.
If I am to live to 120, then I want to ensure I do so with as much vigour, vibrancy, mobility, flexibility and yes, attractiveness as possible. This means that I choose to live life in such a way that the number of years I’ve lived has nothing to do with physical ageing and everything to do with inner maturity and life experience. It’s like Benjamin Button, but with better skincare and more existential crises.
Recently I read a letter from Garance Doré who proposed the following:
“Remove ten years from your age.
Good.
Take me as an example, I am now 39.
Now, feel it. You’re ten years younger, but you know everything you know. Yum!
Great.
Now think of all the things you would do if you were ten years younger.
Perfect.
Okay well now go ahead and do them.
Because in ten years you’ll look back and tell yourself you were SO YOUNG ten years ago, and you should have done the things.”
She added that people who think they’re younger actually live younger, and are measurably stronger, healthier and happier—it’s researched and proven.
At the same time, while I am devoted to taking care of myself mind-body-heart-soul, I also am loyal to the natural passage of my human life.
I don’t get my nails done. I think natural nails are beautiful. Look how pink they are! And perfectly shaped! The intelligence of nature knew what she was doing (take that, acrylic overlords!). I pluck my eyebrows myself but mostly let them grow wild. They’re quite demure anyway, like shy caterpillars trying to blend in. I occasionally die them at home. My hair is its natural colour. My bikini line gets waxed twice a year if I feel like it.
Mostly I find all this extra upkeep so boring and tedious and also painful and expensive and most of all, time-consuming.
I believe the best antidote for navigating the cult of youth is untamed authenticity.
Let the rest of the world shape itself into an amalgamation of sameness. Uniqueness and knowing who we are and how to truly be ourselves are going to become the most powerful markers of life in the near future. The ones that will stand out in the end are those of us who reclaim ourselves exactly as we are.
Eventually, we will all decay and our bodies will rejoin the earth. Youth may be wasted on the young, but wisdom is the ultimate revenge of ageing.
