we don’t talk enough about the guilt that comes with continuing to live after losing someone who was once part of your everyday life.

life must continue, they say. the show must go on.

but how do you go on without feeling guilty that the person you thought you couldn’t live without is no longer here, yet you are still living?
you are still working. still eating. still laughing. sometimes, you even find yourself having fun.

then, the wave of grief hits you in the middle of a perfectly good moment and the weight of their absence returns. you remember that they should have been there.

and suddenly, you feel guilty for enjoying an experience you cannot share with them. for a moment, your happiness begins to feel like a betrayal.

maybe you are eating their favourite meal or watching a show they loved. maybe one of your songs begins to play and you remember all the times you listened to it together. you want to enjoy it, but something about doing so without them feels wrong.

how are you supposed to enjoy the things you once shared with them when they are no longer here to enjoy them with you?

people say that grief is one of the deepest expressions of love. could that be why it hurts so much?

grief is love searching for somewhere to go after the person who once received it is no longer here.

and maybe that is where some of the guilt comes from too.

you still have all this love for them, but life keeps moving. new days come. new memories are made. you laugh again. you find things to look forward to again and somehow, moving forward can feel like leaving them behind.

but continuing to live does not mean you have stopped loving them.

your laughter does not erase their memory. enjoying a meal does not mean their absence hurts any less. going to work, making new memories or finding happiness again does not mean you have left them behind.

it’s basically just you trying to grieve while learning how to exist in the same body.

you may never return to who you were before the loss. grief changes us. it introduces us to a version of life we never asked for, and somehow, we have to learn how to live in it.

maybe healing is not about returning to who you once were. maybe it is learning to live alongside the loss while giving yourself permission to experience joy again.

because joy and grief can co-exist. you can laugh and still miss them. you can make new memories and still treasure the old ones. you can love your life and still wish they were here to live it with you.

if your loved one could see the life you are living, i don’t think they would count your happy moments as evidence that you have forgotten them. i think they would be happy to see that you’ve found the courage to keep going while carrying their memory with you.

so, take care of yourself
take care of the body that remembers their hugs
take care of the mind that holds your memories of them
take care of the heart that continues to love them, even in their absence

living again is not a betrayal
you are allowed to miss them and still enjoy your life
you are allowed to grieve and still laugh
you are allowed to carry them with you without allowing the guilt of surviving to consume you.

and you deserve to take care of the life that carries these memories. they would want that for you.💛

i’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. i’ve had a couple of conversations with people about our childhoods, and we came to the conclusion that our childhood experiences play a huge role in how we handle certain situations, communicate, love people and generally navigate life as adults.

and honestly, it makes sense. a lot of what we know about relationships, conflict, communication, love and even ourselves was first taught to us at home.

now, if you’re reading this and you had amazing parents who created a safe home, made sacrifices for you, loved you well and genuinely made home feel like home, i’m genuinely happy for you. 🫶🏻

but for a lot of us, there are things our parents could have done differently. things they didn’t know. things they didn’t handle well. things we wish we had experienced but didn’t.

and i think a lot of young adults eventually have to get to a place where they can look at their parents and realise: they were also living for the first time.

this is not an excuse for absent, neglectful or consistently irresponsible parenting. understanding someone’s limitations does not erase the impact of what they did.

but sometimes, forgiveness comes from understanding that if they knew better, they probably would have done better and maybe forgiving them is part of freeing yourself from constantly carrying what happened into every relationship you have.

because one of the things i really hope for us is that we don’t pass everything we inherited down to our children.

i hope we’re better parents

i hope we are intentional about recognising the things our parents did that hurt us, the things they got right, the things they never taught us, and the patterns we picked up without even realising it.

because you cannot break a pattern you refuse to acknowledge.

some things will require a lot of unlearning. some of us have spent decades learning certain behaviours, beliefs and ways of communicating. so yes, it will take time to undo them.

give yourself grace but also, be intentional.

i hope we make home feel like home for our children

i hope our kids know that no matter what is happening in the world, no matter what they are facing, no matter who is against them, they can come home.

not because we will always agree with them or excuse everything they do, but because they know they are loved, they are safe and they will not be abandoned.

i hope they know, “my parents may tell me that i am wrong, but i will never have to wonder if they love me.”

there is something beautiful about knowing you have somewhere to return to no matter the chaos happening in the world.

i also hope we are parents who can apologise

please, let’s break the cycle of never saying sorry to our children. 😂
yes, you are older. yes, you have more life experience. yes, you are the parent.

say sorry.

“i shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
“i was wrong.”
“i take that back.”

you will not die. your authority will not evaporate. your child will not suddenly stop respecting you because you admitted that you were wrong.

in fact, you are teaching them something important: how to take responsibility when you hurt someone.

you’re showing them what accountability looks like instead of just demanding it from them.

i hope we are present parents too

not just financially present. not just physically in the house. actually present.

know what your children are interested in. listen to their ridiculous side quests. 😂

if they love football, learn something about football. if they are obsessed with cars, ask them about cars. if they love reading, ask what they’re reading. if they suddenly become fascinated by something you know absolutely nothing about, let them tell you about it.

be interested in the things that make them them.

because sometimes, those little interests are clues to who your child is becoming.

let’s learn how to have uncomfortable conversations with our children

talk to them about their bodies. puberty. hormones. attraction. friendships. boundaries. relationships. sex. all of it.

not like these are forbidden topics that should only be discussed after they have already made a mistake. and please, let’s break the cycle of telling your girl child that “touching a guy will get you pregnant because you’re on your period.”

i was so traumatised by some of the things i was told as a teenager, i genuinely don’t think i have fully recovered. 😭

children are curious. they are growing up in a world where they can find answers to almost anything within seconds.

i would rather my child ask me. i want to be the kind of parent my daughter can come to and say, “mum, i have a crush on someone,” without feeling like she has committed an offence.

i want her to be able to ask questions about her body without being shamed or frightened. i want my children to know that they can tell me what they are experiencing and that i will help them understand it.

we should teach our children about their bodies, maturity, relationships and boundaries early and appropriately, so that the world doesn’t become their first teacher.

and beyond all of this, i hope we introduce our children to Christ early

not just as children who go to church every Sunday, but as children who actually understand the love of God. i hope we teach them what it means to know God, walk with Him and become more like Christ as they grow.

because i don’t just want children who know how to behave religiously. i want children who understand grace, love, obedience, character, compassion and what it means to genuinely have a relationship with God.

and maybe that starts with us too.

because our children will learn as much from who we are as they will from what we tell them.

they will watch how we communicate. how we handle conflict. how we apologise. how we treat people. how we love. how we forgive. how we respond when things don’t go our way. how we treat them.

so one of the greatest things we can do before becoming parents is to honestly examine ourselves.

what did i experience growing up?
what hurt me?
what did i wish my parents had done differently?
what did they do well that i want to carry forward?
what behaviours have i normalised simply because they were normal in my home?
what do i need to unlearn?
what do i want my children to experience differently?

because the goal isn’t to become perfect parents.

the goal is to become intentional parents.
parents who are willing to learn. parents who are willing to apologise. parents who are willing to break patterns instead of defending them. parents who give their children both roots and room to grow. parents who make home feel safe. parents who love their children loudly enough that they never have to spend their adulthood wondering whether they were loved.

i really hope we’re better parents.

i hope we break the cycles, stereotypes, hurts and patterns that should end with us.

i hope we give our children a softer beginning where we can.

and i hope they grow into adults who don’t have to spend half their lives recovering from their childhoods.

the world would be a much better place if more people grew up with less hurt, less dysfunction and more love.

so here’s to doing the work now.

for ourselves and, one day, for the little people who will call us mum and dad.

rooting for us. 💛

Go again. And again. And again.

Growing up, many of us heard people say, always have a plan B.
So we moved through life believing that as long as there was a backup plan, we were safe.

But nobody really prepared us for when plan A fails… and plan B fails too.

What then?
Do we give up?
Do we sit in shame?
Do we assume life is over because things didn’t go the way we imagined?

Or do we go again?

One thing adulthood teaches you quickly is that life will humble you.
You will face rejection, delays, disappointments, confusion, and seasons where nothing seems to move.

But the beautiful side of it is this:

You can always start again..

You can move to plan C.
You can regroup and move to plan D.
You can learn from your mistakes and rebuild with more wisdom on plan E.

And if life really wants to test you, you might find yourself on plan K.

Still, keep moving.

Something I’ve learnt, and I’m still learning, is that you are allowed to reinvent yourself as many times as necessary.

There is no age limit to starting over.
No age limit to learning a new skill.
No age limit to changing careers.
No age limit to becoming who you were meant to be.

As long as you are alive and well, you still have room.

So, please go again.

Now let’s be honest.

Sometimes life can happen to the best of us.
You’re trying. You’re exhausted. You’ve been consistent. You’ve prayed. You’ve put in effort. Yet somehow, nothing seems to click.

You’re on plan K and wondering if there’s even a point anymore.

I understand that feeling.

But have you heard this saying:

A moving person will meet their luck.

And honestly, I believe it.

Because movement creates momentum. Momentum builds confidence. Confidence opens doors.

Let me bring it home.

I remember when I first started going to the gym.
I got home that night and genuinely asked myself: Who actually sent me?

I was sore, tired, regretting every decision. The easiest thing would have been to stop but I showed up the next day, the next week and the next few months.

What am I trying to deduce from this?

The more you move, do, and practice, the better you become at that thing. Confidence is often built through repetition, not perfection.

Many things are not unreachable; they just require more work, more patience, and more consistency than most people expect.

You can attain a lot of what you desire, but the real question is:

Can you do the work?

Are you willing to be dogged enough to keep going again and again, even through rejection, delays, and setbacks?

Are you willing to keep showing up when results are slow?
To stay committed when nobody claps for you?
To keep pushing when it would be easier to quit?

Well, I need you to think about that.

So yes, maybe, plan A failed.
Maybe plan B did too

But between plan A and plan K is where character is built.
Discipline is formed there.
Audacity is born there.
Confidence is built there.
That season requires an insane level of locking in.
A little madness and the courage to keep showing up when nothing is guaranteed.

But if you keep moving, one day you’ll look around and realise doors are opening.

There will always be another letter.
There will always be another plan.

And you can even go beyond all 26 letters.

You never know the version of yourself waiting at plan Z.

But I can almost guarantee they’re stronger than the version that wanted to quit at plan G.

So keep going. 🤍

And honestly, this is one of the most terrifying and uncertain place to be.
Life happens to the best of us. It can be you at any time, so please don’t turn your back on the idea of grief or losing someone. It’s not something we like to think about, but it’s part of life.

If you’re currently grieving, come with me.

Nothing can ever prepare you for grief

You can never be prepared enough for grief. It will always shock you.
You could have a relative undergoing dialysis or even on life support and still find yourself shaken at the news of their passing.

Even on days when you’ve imagined it… when you’ve thought about what you would do… you’ll still catch yourself praying, whispering, “God forbid.” Because somehow, we’re wired to hope, to believe they’ll get better.

So when grief comes, take each day as it comes, gently.

You’ll feel the urge to beat yourself up, replay moments, think of a thousand things you could have done differently.

I won’t tell you not to have those thoughts.

But please, extend grace to yourself too.

Take time away… but don’t disappear completely

You might feel the need to be strong for everyone else, to move on quickly or even think about “what’s next.” I get it, but it’s important to process your feelings alone, even if it’s uncomfortable.

Disconnect for a while. Sit with your emotions. Cry. Scream. Be honest with God — even if that honesty sounds like questioning Him.

Talk to yourself.
Journal.
Sleep.

Let yourself feel it fully but don’t disappear completely.

Let people be there for you (even if they don’t understand what you feel)

This one is hard.
Sometimes you just want to be alone and other times people don’t even know what to say or how to show up.

But still… let them. Let your loved ones hold you in whatever way they can.

This might look like:

• sitting in silence together
• checking in randomly
• just being physically present

And even if it feels small, it matters.

If it means being in a room alone while they’re just nearby, that’s okay too.
If it means going non-verbal for a while, that’s okay.

Just don’t shut everyone out completely.

Because after the crying… the quiet breakdowns… the moments no one sees, coming out to people who are still there for you does something gentle to your heart.

Extend more grace to yourself than you think you need

This is probably the hardest part. Because in grief, you’re not thinking about yourself.

You’re thinking about:

• what you lost
• what could have been
• how to stay strong for others

Meanwhile, your own heart is carrying more than it knows how to process.

Give yourself grace; a lot of it.

For the days you feel numb.
For the days you feel angry.
For the days you don’t recognise yourself.

Remember, you are not meant to have it all together or fully understand it.

Life doesn’t end… but it changes forever

This is the part no one really says.

Life continues. But it’s not the same life.

There’s a before.
And there’s an after.
And you learn to live in the “after.”

Slowly;
You find new rhythms.
You laugh again (and feel guilty about it at first).
You begin to carry the loss in your daily life
You learn to show up normally in the world again
You learn to live without them, while still carrying them in your heart everyday

If you’re in this phase right now, I just want you to know:

Whatever you feel right now is valid.
You’re not weak for struggling.
And you’re not alone, even if it feels like it.

Take it one day at a time.

And on the days when life feels too much — cry, break down, miss them loudly or silently.

Please remember:

Grief doesn’t come with a manual.

You learn it as you live it.

So be gentle with yourself.
Be patient with your healing.
And hold on to whatever gives you even the smallest sense of comfort.

No matter how long it’s been, and even if people think you should have “gotten over it” by now — ignore them. Cry as much as you need to.

Sending you all my love and warm hugs🤍

Because sometimes the biggest milestones are the ones no one before you had the chance to reach.

I celebrated something recently and it felt so good to be able to do it for the first time in my life. I felt like a kid in a candy store. Gosh. I was so happy.

It wasn’t just about the achievement itself.
It was remembering what it took for me to get there.

A few days ago, I saw a tweet on X that caused a beautiful uproar. People began sharing the things they were the first in their bloodline to achieve.

First to graduate.
First to travel abroad.
First to earn in a new currency.
First to buy property.
First to build something entirely from scratch.

And oh gosh, I genuinely think it’s one of the most beautiful threads I’ve seen since I started using the app.

Because being the first is not easy.

It means somewhere in your lineage, something shifted.
A pattern broke.
A door opened that had never been opened before.

That is no small feat.🤏🏾

And it made me think of the many feats I’ve achieved that I quickly brushed past. The ones I didn’t sit with long enough because I was already chasing the next thing.

We are so used to surviving that we forget to celebrate.
We treat milestones like checkpoints instead of moments.

But being the first carries a heavy weight.
Sometimes, you might even be tagged as a rebel because you refuse to conform to what your lineage thinks is the norm.
Sometimes it carries pressure.
Sometimes it carries loneliness.

There’s no blueprint.
You’re figuring it out in real time and that can feel both powerful and terrifying.

And hey, remember, not all firsts are loud.
Some are quiet.

The first time you set a boundary.
The first time you said no without explaining yourself.
The first time you chose therapy.
The first time you saved consistently.
The first time you decided, “It ends with me.”

Those count too.

Sometimes we don’t celebrate because we were taught that this could mean we are “showing off” or being too loud about our achievement.
Or because people around us are still struggling and we feel guilty for doing well.
Or because we’re hyper-independent and already onto the next goal.

If you’re the type who hits a milestone and immediately raises the bar higher…
If you’re a little nonchalant about your wins…
If you downplay your achievements because “it’s not that big of a deal”…

Pause.

Think about the sacrifices.
The decisions.
The nights you doubted yourself.
The comfort you gave up.
The risks you took.

Think about the version of you from five years ago who would be shocked at where you are now.

And then actually celebrate.

Not because you’ve “arrived.”
But because you crossed something for the first time.
And that matters.

Celebration does not have to be performance.
It doesn’t have to be loud.
If you’re private like me, it can be quiet.

But it should exist.

Take pictures.
Journal about it.
Tell someone you trust.
Buy yourself something small or big.
Sit in the moment a little longer before you move on.

So celebrate your firsts. Publicly or privately.
But don’t rush past them.

You earned that moment.
Clock it!🤏🏾

We talk a lot about the fear of failing.
But no one really talks about the fear of becoming.

The fear that one day, the thing you imagined actually starts to happen and suddenly, there is nowhere left to hide.

What if the dream works?
What if you become everything you said you wanted to be?
What if you don’t fail and everything actually works out?

Oh, one day I will become a husband and have to lead and provide for my family.
Oh, one day I will leave my home country, move to a different land, pursue a degree, and start a new career.
Oh, one day I will work with a global team, solve problems, and build products, even with my shyness.

Sometimes, I think about what that version of me will require and quietly sit with the question: am I capable of meeting those requirements?

Because becoming what you have envisioned will demand a different version of you. And I’m not going to lie, that thought scares me.

Imagine being an introvert all your life but knowing that the next stages of your life will require you to show up publicly, speak up, and be seen.

Sigh! That is a different kind of fear.

Some people are afraid they will never become.
They’re stuck waiting. Hovering. Preparing endlessly.
But this is different.

This fear doesn’t come from standing still. It comes from movement.

Sometimes the dream doesn’t even scare us because it’s too big. It scares us because it’s getting closer.

You realise you can’t make excuses anymore.
You can’t postpone things anymore.
You can’t keep saying, “I’ll do it when I’m ready.”

You know that saying, “When we get to that bridge, we’ll cross it”?
Well, now you’re standing right in front of the bridge.
And you actually have to cross it and do everything you said you would.

Jeez!!

Sometimes you’re in a meeting and your teammates are waiting for your feedback before they move forward with the project. And suddenly, you realise you’re no longer observing from the sidelines and your decision will shape the outcome.

There’s no future version of you to hand it over to.
It’s you. Right now.

And while some people say, “I’ve prepared for this my whole life, all the quiet process and lessons have prepared me for this table,” I truly get that.
Experience prepares you, yes. But preparation isn’t the same as execution. It isn’t the same as living the life you once imagined from afar.

Becoming will mean that you might outgrow friends and habits.
It will mean forming new habits you might not even enjoy at first.
It will mean more discipline. More consistency. More responsibility.

This is the part no one romanticises.

The fear of becoming isn’t really about failing. It’s about ownership.

It’s about knowing that if it works, you showed up.
And if it doesn’t, there’s no one else to blame.

No future version of you to defer responsibility to.
Just you, standing inside the life you asked for.🫠

And maybe that’s why becoming feels scary.
Not because you’re incapable.
But because once you become, there’s no hiding anymore.

Only choosing.
And showing up.
Again and again.

I’m sometimes tired of having to make something out of lemons, especially on days when I don’t even have the energy to squeeze the juice out or pull out the juicer. Some days, I just want to rest. I want to drink fresh lemonade without stressing about who made it or how it was made.

On days when I don’t want to be strong.
On days when I don’t want to push through.
On days when I just want to go to the beach, grab a cup of lemonade, sit quietly, and listen to the sound of water waves.

Ever had a day where you just want to rot in bed and do absolutely nothing?
For the longest time, I loved listening to Bruno Mars — The Lazy Song.
“Today, I don’t feel like doing anything, I just wanna lay in my bed.”
You should listen to it too🌚

And honestly, some days feel exactly like that.

We live in a world where everyone is always doing something. Chasing something. Rushing somewhere. The pace is loud, fast, and demanding. And in the middle of all that noise, it’s okay to pause and say, “I’m not making lemonade today.”

It’s okay to romanticize rest.
It’s okay to choose ease.
It’s okay to admit that you don’t have the strength to extract juice from the lemon today.

Now, let me be clear. This doesn’t mean you never do hard things oo. It doesn’t mean you avoid effort or reject growth. It simply means you understand balance. It means you know when to rest and when to push.

And yes, I’m the queen of balance.

I don’t particularly love the idea of always turning lemons into lemonade. Does this mean I never do it? No. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t.

Let me spill a little tea:

I love pancakes. I really do. But do I love making them? Absolutely not.
So what do I do? I order from my favourite pancake place. When I go for brunch, I order pancakes. I enjoy the finished product without stressing about the process.

In that moment, I choose the lemonade.

And that’s how life is for me too.
There are areas where I’ll accept the lemon and do the work.
There are other times where I’ll gladly choose the lemonade.

If you truly ask me though, I’d prefer lemonade all the time, haha.
Sadly, life doesn’t work that way.

So maybe the real wisdom isn’t always about squeezing lemons.
Maybe it’s knowing when to go all out, when to rest, when to outsource, and when to simply enjoy what’s already been made.

Some days, choosing lemonade is enough.🍋

Growing up as kids, there was always that one child who seemed to do too much.
At home, school, or church, you knew them. Super smart. Always raising their hand. Having answers to every question. The poster child for excellence.

I was that child, haha!

I remember my junior secondary school graduation ceremony clearly.
While they were presenting awards, my name kept ringing through the hall:

Best in English Language — Esther Johnson
Best in Mathematics — Esther Johnson
Best in Science — Esther Johnson
Overall Best in JSS3 — Esther Johnson

Omg! My parents were so proud.
You could see my mom strutting confidently down the hall to the stage to take pictures with me, shoulders high, and telling everyone, “That’s my daughter!”

But here is the truth:

I wasn’t always that kid.

Before high school, I was simply ordinary.
A slow learner in some subjects. Not the best. Not the least. Just somewhere in the middle.

I watched my classmates understand mathematics and quantitative reasoning easily, and it always took me a longer time to get it. I had to sit with problems over and over again before the answers finally made sense.

And boom, I realised something important.

That was my superpower.

My parents even got me a private lesson teacher, someone I honestly wasn’t always happy to see, but truly needed. Those extra hours, the repeated practice, the patience with the process were what shaped me into being that kid people admired.

Extraordinary people do not appear overnight.
They are built slowly, through determination and consistent effort.

I’m sure we all knew that playful kid who surprised everyone at the end of the term. The one who looked unserious, played football during break, came back to class all sweaty, and still topped the exam charts. Let’s call him Ahmed.

And yes, we all knew one Ahmed growing up, haha.

What we never saw were the quiet habits behind his success. Did you ever pause to ask Ahmed how he prepared for exams? Probably not. Most of us just jumped to conclusions.

But here’s the truth.

Ahmed understood his own strengths. He knew what worked for him and he maximized it. Maybe he listened attentively in class and jotted down key points. Maybe he went back home to study in his own structured way. Or maybe he discovered a personal system that helped him grasp difficult concepts faster than others.

Whatever it was, Ahmed found his superpower and stayed with it.

Becoming extraordinary isn’t built in a day.
It takes drive.
It takes time.
And it takes knowing yourself.

A question to ponder on:
Have you identified your own superpower?

That awareness is the real game changer.

Hey, note this too:
Knowing your superpower doesn’t automatically equate to being extraordinary oo.
Knowing how to maximize that superpower is what makes all the difference.

So yes, you have what it takes to be extraordinary too!
You are extraordinary and I’m rooting for you!

Growing up, I was that spoilt kid.
A simple walk into the supermarket with my dad meant pointing at anything that caught my eye, even things I didn’t need, and somehow they still ended up in the cart.
Birthdays were even more beautiful because you’re literally the queen of the home on that special day. My dad would ask for a list and then buy everything, plus extras I never wrote down.
Life felt simple and easy. Like anything I wanted was available at the tip of my fingers.

But adulthood humbled me quickly.

I realised life doesn’t reward desire.
It doesn’t even reward hard work all the time.
Sometimes you can want something deeply, work extremely hard for it, and still not get it. (Omg! this was a very harsh reality for me)

One day, you’re the indulged child.
The next, you’re the adult trying to catch your breath.
Life comes at you FAST.

Was it a hard lesson for me? Yes.

Is it okay not to get everything you desire? Hmm… maybe yes and no. I’m still learning to accept that reality too, haha.
But I think we all eventually realise that some things don’t happen just because we want them. Sometimes we’re not ready yet. Sometimes it’s simply not time.
And that itself is a hard pill to swallow, but a necessary one.

One of my favourite lines is:

“Slowly but surely, everything good will come.”

I know it sounds cliché, but it is true. It does come eventually.

But let’s also be honest:
The pressure is wild.
The noise is loud.
The constant need to achieve something extraordinary is everywhere.

And yes, the pressure is getting werser and werser (yes, I said what I said 😭).
The world we live in has created urgency where there doesn’t need to be any.

But here is the thing:

The pressure will not magically stop.
The world will not suddenly slow down.

So what is left? Find REST.
Rest in the knowing that what is yours will come.
Rest in the process.
Rest in being human.
Rest in not having everything NOW.

Because truly, who has panicking, worrying and re-strategizing 10 times helped? It has only heightened anxiety and made everything feel heavier.

So maybe, for once, allow yourself to be okay with not having that thing you desperately desire, especially if it is not a life-threatening need.

Trust the process.
Trust the timing.
Trust the slow growth.

And trust that it will come, slowly but surely.🌱

I think I’m a little scared for this generation.
How did we get here? When did it become this bad?

If you want to know what we’ve truly gotten ourselves into, stick around.

I genuinely believe that the illusion of options our generation has might be doing more harm than good. This idea that “I can always do something else” or “I can always find better” has quietly hurt many relationships, careers, and people’s ability to self-reflect.

Don’t get me wrong — I’ll always be an advocate for trying, exploring, and evolving. I’ve pivoted about three times in my career in the last four years myself. This is not a police article telling you not to explore.

But exploring isn’t the problem.
Abandoning too quickly is.

People leave things the moment they stop working the way they imagined, assuming something “better” exists elsewhere. But what happens when you find that “better,” only to end up in the same loop again?

Do you leave again? And again? And again?

We’re overstimulated and it shows

We’re too quick to give up on things without even giving them the chance to grow on us.
We’re overstimulated by content, advice, opinions, and it influences how easily we get bored, how quickly we jump ship, and how rarely we stay long enough to fall in love with something deeply.

Maybe the solution begins with knowing what you want.
Define it. Be clear about it.
Stop entertaining what doesn’t look like what you want, while still allowing room for flexibility and growth.

This reduces distractions and keeps you from chasing things you shouldn’t be chasing in the first place.

We should remember beautiful things blossom slowly.
Give your craft, your work, your goals, your relationships time.
Fall in and out of love with them. Let the process breathe.

Think about it: when you’re getting to know someone, it takes time. Conversation. Depth. Vulnerability. Months of learning them before you decide to commit.

Why don’t we give that same commitment to other areas of our lives?

Know the thing.
Try again.
Get tired.
Get bored.
Pick it up and go again.

Maybe if we knew the value, we wouldn’t toss it away

Imagine being gifted a foreign device worth $15,000 — a model you’ve never used, with very few manuals. You try your best to set it up but nothing works.

Would you throw it away? Of course not.

You’d think, ask questions and find someone who knows better.
You’d try until you figure it out because you know the value.

So maybe that’s the real issue:
We don’t value the things we have enough to sit with them, learn them, and make them work. When you value something, it becomes harder to discard it at the first sign of difficulty.

So, Start appreciating what you have.
Do the hard work.
Have the tough conversations.
Fix what can be fixed.
Work on making things better instead of throwing them away simply because something else “might” be better.

Yes, there are options.
But try working out what you have first.💕