To the Man Who Shows Up — Happy Birthday, Dad
It’s my dad’s birthday this weekend. He won’t want anyone to know that. He doesn’t like a fuss. Doesn’t want balloons or cards or sentimental Instagram posts—he’d rather just have his Heineken, a smoke with his morning coffee, and maybe a decent meal he didn’t have to cook. But I’m writing this anyway, because sometimes the quiet heroes deserve to be seen—even when they’d rather disappear into the background.
Jul 263 min read
If My Friends or Family Ever Read My Diary, I’d Have to Flee the Country
Yes, I am 41 and I keep a diary.
Not a bullet journal.
Not a gratitude notebook.
A full-blown, messy, unfiltered diary.
Jul 243 min read
Real Talk | Work Sisters Are the Real Ones
I didn’t go to work looking for friendship. I went for the cheque, the benefits, the illusion of stability. Like most of us. I kept my head down, did the job, played nice in meetings, and dipped when the clock hit 4:59.
Jul 172 min read
A Love Letter to My Parents on Their Anniversary
I’ve spent a lot of time writing about love. About heartbreak, about longing, about the strange magic that happens when two people try—sometimes clumsily, sometimes beautifully—to choose each other in a world that keeps pulling them apart.
Jun 263 min read
