02/05/2026
This cup has been with me for most of my life.
I was 17 when my dear Violet gave it to me. One of the first women I ever cared for.
She was in her 90s. Sure in who she was. Unapologetically herself.
Every Saturday and Sunday I would get up early after a full week of study, walk 2km to her home, help her shower, clean her space, and then go straight to my second job at the roller skating rink and work until the evening.
I didn’t question it. I just showed up.
Looking back now, I can see that was the beginning of something that would shape my entire life.
With Violet, I learned how to enter someone’s world with respect. How to care for someone with dignity. How to give without needing anything back. How to keep showing up, even when I was already tired.
That cup was the first time someone I cared for saw me. And it has travelled with me through every chapter since.
Through every home. Every city. Every role.
Every version of nursing and midwifery I have lived over the last 23 years.
It has been there through the parts people don’t see.
The pressure. The responsibility.
The moments where you carry more than you should have to. The moments where you don’t get to fall apart.
And still show up.
This cup, to me, holds dignity. It holds the quiet kind of hope that doesn’t shout, but doesn’t leave either.
It holds the parts of this work that shape you from the inside out.
When I look at it now, I don’t just see where I started. I see every version of me who kept going.
The one who learned to hold others before she fully knew how to hold herself. The one who built a life caring for others, even when the cost was high.
This cup has witnessed all of it. Not just what I’ve done. But who I became in the doing. And that can’t be taken. It doesn’t disappear if the path changes. It lives in me. In how I care, lead and stand in moments that require more than what is visible.
And maybe that’s what this cup has always held.
Not just the beginning. But proof.
That what is built in integrity, in care, in truth over a lifetime doesn’t end. It carries forward.
It finds its way into whatever comes next 🤍