There are so many things a woman can be in this world

At least, that’s what we tell girls when they are young,

But all too often, she chooses to be his

Or she loses herself in them

Sometimes, she chooses to be hers

She says she’s happy,

But what a tragedy it is to never have been her own.



These lines across my stomach, my hands, my face—

What do they say?

Are the stories worth sharing?

Or am I seeking attention—as they have said.




The ones that build me up


The ones that break me down.

Therapy 10.19.20

Today’s session was only me.

Usually Naush joins in, but today, I had a solo session to talk about how I’ve been processing my uncles death.

His passing triggered a lot in me. I’ve never lost an uncle before, and it made me become more focused on religion than ever before.

For some reason, I felt my husband should be on the same page as me—and snap into zealot mode just because that’s how I was feeling.

I took a lot of emotion out “at him,” which wasn’t right.

I’m working on it, but luckily he was very understanding that these intense emotions were triggered by a traumatic incident.

Next session will be only him.

We have a beautiful relationship, but I truly feel every couple can benefit from therapy.

And not just every couple—but every individual

Have you tried it?

Manic Behavior

Yesterday began with an excited, irrational need to experience a “high.”

For me, that meant driving an hour across town during lunch to visit an exotic pet store, where I met a friendly, middle-aged shopkeeper.

“I adore the prairie dogs as well as the sugar gliders,” I said. “Which one is a more affectionate pet?”

She explained that, once bonded, the sugar gliders would be more affectionate and could even be carried on-the-go quite easily via a bonding pouch.

I was sold.

I got one, and then, when explained the importance of keeping gliders in pairs, I purchased a second.

I named them Chip & Dale, and I was ecstatic.

…But, there was one problem.

My husband had told me over & over again, “No more pets.”

The 5 year old in me thought I could get away from hiding them in the closet, but when I went back to work, my anxiety kicked in.

“Did I secure the heat lamp properly? What if it falls off? What if it hurts the gliders? What if the house burns down!?”

I ended up calling my husband and confessing what I’d done.

He took a deep breath and said, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Then, he called back a few minutes later and said, “We are returning them in the morning.”

I hope we don’t, but I think he’s pretty serious.

Let’s see what happens 🙁


Spiritual Awakening

I went to a cemetery for the first time this weekend,

And it changed me.

I know I sound dramatic (I’m pretty good at that), but it’s made me question every aspect of my life, including:

-My Spirituality

-Strengthening my Marriage through God

-How I Raise my Child

-Who I’m Friends With

-How I Make Money

-What I Want for the Future

-The Impact I Want to Make

-What I Leave Behind, my Legacy

I somehow feel both ignited & extinguished, and it doesn’t make sense at all.

Maybe I’ll get some sleep and tackle life tomorrow.



I’ll confess—

It has been a year since I could sleep

Properly, that is

I used to pass out the moment my head hit the pillow, but now, I’m steadily increasing my dose of melatonin to catch a couple hours

And today, even that didn’t work.

So here I am at 4:30 am, contemplating the macro & micro of life

With a warm cup of chai in my hands

Have you dealt with insomnia? Any tips to get better sleep?

The Burial

I have never visited a cemetery until today.

And to see my uncle being laid to rest right beside my grandmother—

It was heavy.

But after today, I’m no longer afraid of graveyards.

There’s something incredibly spiritual about being in a place where you are reminded so strongly of your mortality.

And furthermore, it does not matter who you are

Your race

Your color

Your religion

The same soil covers us all