In 2018, I decided to take a break from alcohol, and it quickly turned into a life-changing journey that’s still going strong today. But it wasn’t just about quitting booze—it was about reconnecting with myself in a way I hadn’t done in years. Meditation became my lifeline, guiding me through the discomfort, pain, and overwhelming emotions I’d been numbing with alcohol. In this post, I share how meditation helped me not only stay alcohol-free but also uncovered truths about myself I wasn’t ready to face before. If you're wondering whether alcohol and meditation can coexist, my story might just provide the answer you're searching for.
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Reflecting on the return of Trump and the Age of Aquarius, this post offers personal insights and practical guidance on navigating fear, divisiveness, and how we can show up better for each other in 2025.
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The holidays are supposed to be a time of joy, but for many—including me—they can bring up complex emotions. Here’s how I’ve been feeling after this year’s celebrations.
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‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,Anxiety was stirring—so much to fret about.The stockings were hung, not quite straight but who cared,Because perfection’s a myth we’ve all unfairly declared. The fur-babies were restless, pacing the floor,Awaiting their treats, always hungry for more.And Dad in his hoodie, and I in mine too,Sat quietly wondering, “How much more can we do?” When suddenly from outside there arose such a clatter,Our dogs barked in chorus, as if the world were in shatter.I peeked through the curtains, my pulse running high,And saw a lone courier under the moonlit sky. Packages stacked, he dashed to his van,As I muttered, “Another thing we…
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If you’d asked me ten years ago what life at 45 would look like, I would’ve painted a picture that was, at best, wildly naive. I figured by now I’d have it all figured out: a successful corporate career, thriving relationships, and a rock-solid sense of self. I thought life would be one of those “paint-by-numbers” masterpieces my grandpa used to paint—structured, polished, and complete. Instead, here I am, staring at another blank canvas, one that’s begging for something more like abstract art. And honestly? I’m terrified and loving it all at the same time. The Messy Reality of Being Human Being “unfinished” isn’t just a phase or a stage…
