26/02/2026
I love my life.
I love who I am in my life.
I’m deeply grateful to me for the choices I’ve made to be exactly where I am at this stage of my life.
And at the same time, I’ve been living alongside a quiet, profound grief since August.
A culmination of moments of loss, endings, truths and love in different forms.
Grief is weird. There is a kind of sadness that doesn’t ask permission. It arrives and rearranges you. It throws you sideways, upside down and inside out. And for a moment, nothing seems to matter.
Until it does.
Until your body asks you to stop.
Until you realise you can’t override what you feel.
Until you see clearly who holds you gently and who steps back when things aren’t easy.
Sometimes the people you thought you could lean on are the ones who pat you on the shoulder and say, “you’re a tough cookie”. When all you want is to be held.
And sometimes the ones facing the end of their time here can offer a depth of love so pure, so real, so present and so honest and hold you there in a breath…that it makes everything else fall away.
When you sit close to mortality, the noise disappears.
The material things. The stories.
None of it carries weight.
What matters is time. Real time.
What matters is being able to sit with yourself without distraction.
Grief is a strange gift.
It has a way of showing you where you overextended your heart and where it was truly met.
It strips you raw before it clarifies and returns you to what is real.
And what is real is simple. Love. Presence. Breath. Connection. Truth.
I love my life even more now. Not because it’s perfect, but because I see it clearly.
And clarity makes existence sacred.