The Woman I Never Met
If someone gave me a time machine and one message to send my younger self, I know exactly what I would say: live on your own.
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Are You Friends With Feedback?
Feedback didn’t exist in my childhood. There was praise, which was rationed like sugar during a diet, and criticism, which flowed like Lassi during Langar. Nobody told us there was a third thing. Turns out there was, and I’m still not sure we’re friends.
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If My Blog Was a Chocolate Factory
If my blog was a chocolate factory, the homepage would be the storefront. Bestsellers up front, favourites on one shelf, harmless-looking categories everywhere, and somewhere in the box, a sweet piece that leaves a bitter aftertaste.
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Types of Moms and the Labels Motherhood Refuses to Fit Into
Motherhood has become a filing system. Alpha mom, beta mom, almond mom, tiger mom, free-range mom. But most mothers are not one fixed type. We are tactics, adjusted daily, badly rested, and almost always answering to a label that does not quite fit.
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The Tiny Fame of Ordinary People
The tiny fame of ordinary people is the strange visibility social media gives us in our own small circles. It is not celebrity. It is school moms, old friends, cousins and acquaintances knowing bits of your life before you tell them yourself.
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It Began With Socks
I was buying socks for my seven-year-old when I noticed the girls’ section had already made a few decisions for her. Shorter socks. Softer colours. Prettier choices. And somehow, just socks stopped feeling quite so small. It is never really “just socks”, is it?
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Perfection Is the Problem
Perfection is the problem when it stops being about doing things well and becomes a way of measuring your worth. A personal essay on perfectionism, self-criticism, good enough, and the impossible yardstick we carry through work, home, rest, and ordinary life.
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Still Not Journalling
I thought I disliked journaling because I don’t do well with prompts. Then I realised the problem was not the blank page. It was what the blank page might reveal.
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We Could Have Been Gen Y
We could have been Gen Y. Instead, we became millennials: the generation that remembers landlines and floppy disks, but somehow also has to manage passwords, updates, and overflowing cloud storage.
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I Let AI Describe Me. Then I Had to Do It Myself.
I asked ChatGPT, Claude, and Gemini what kind of person I am. They knew the documented me: the prompts, drafts, edits, searches, and patterns. But the missing parts were more revealing.
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