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...
How do we find peace when our past still follows us around like a shadow? There’s a kind of exhaustion that no amount of sleep can fix. It’s the kind that lives in the chest, not the bones. A heaviness born not from long days, but long memories—of what we did, what we didn’t do, what we should have said, what we can’t undo. In Kenya, we speak often about forgiveness in religious spaces. We quote Bible verses, sing worship songs, and talk about letting go. But in real life? We carry regret like it’s a form of atonement. We believe that if we suffer enough under the weight of what we did wrong, we’ll somehow earn peace. But what if real rest is learning to forgive yourself ? “If I Had Just…” You know the script: If I had gone to visit before they died… If I had stayed in that marriage, maybe the kids would be okay… If I had gone for that job interview, I wouldn’t be struggling this much now… If I hadn’t snapped at my mum that day… Regret sounds like a constant ...