I am always late for work. There. I've said it. And the frustrating thing is that my lateness isn't caused by traffic or some unpredictable morning disaster. Most of the time, it is entirely my own doing. I wake up and make my coffee. Then I get back into bed, which is right by the window, cross my feet, face the window and slowly sip my coffee. And when I say slowly, I mean slowly. I look at the trees. I watch the birds. I feel the morning sun on my skin. Sometimes I just sit there with my thoughts. I really love these mornings. I've also noticed something else. When I give myself enough time in the morning, my body usually does what it needs to do. A slow morning often leads to a bowel movement, which, as far as I'm concerned, is one of the must-haves of starting my day. And so I find myself wishing for more time. More time to sit. More time to drink my coffee. More time to maybe get outside and do some yoga or mat Pilates on the grass while the sun is stil...
When the dream finally comes true, but you don’t feel happy. A few days ago, I got braces. Not the kind where you just wake up and decide to get them—but the kind I’ve wanted since I was young. My mum, doing the best she could, got me braces for my upper jaw. We couldn't afford the full treatment then. But that desire to complete what was started? It never left me. So I saved. For months. Quietly, diligently. And when the day finally came, I got them. Full braces. A dream finally realized. But almost immediately, I noticed something strange. I wasn’t excited. I wasn’t proud. I wasn’t even relieved. I just felt… tired. Drained. From day one, I started wondering why I wasn’t happy. Why couldn’t I enjoy the moment? I had worked for this. I had saved for this. I had made peace with the cost. So why couldn’t I smile—beyond the metal wires? Instead, I found myself worrying. “Will I ever get to enjoy my tiny home someday—or will I just feel like this again?” You see, that tiny home ...