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Their Storm Is Not Your Weather

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There is a certain kind of quiet that arrives when you finally understand projection. It does not come with fireworks or grand revelations. It comes softly, like a window opening in a room you had forgotten was stuffy. You are going about your ordinary day, carrying your coffee, answering a message, standing in the middle of a conversation, and someone says something sharp enough to sting. For years, that sting would have followed you home. It would have sat beside you at dinner, whispered to you at midnight, and made a home in the tender places of your heart. But this time, something in you pauses. You look at the person in front of you, and instead of asking, What is wrong with me ? you begin to see the truth: This is not about me at all . The way people treat you is a report on the war inside them, not a verdict on you. It is a strange and liberating sentence to let sink in. Their cruelty, their coldness, their sudden distance, these are not mirrors reflecting your worth. They are w...
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😇Stop Trying to Be Right💭

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It took me years to understand what I’m about to explain to you in under a minute, and once you understand it, you’ll stop being so confused about why people do what they do. Here’s the truth that cracked my skull open: There is no single right reality where you are right and everyone else is wrong. We walk around like our view of the world is the default setting. Our values feel obvious. Our priorities feel logical. Our conclusions feel correct. When someone agrees with us, the world hums along nicely. But when someone disagrees, something inside us bristles. It feels wrong. And right there is where the frustration starts. But here’s what most people never consider: other people are not just choosing different actions. They are seeing a completely different reality. Everybody is experiencing life through their own lens, a strange, scratched, beautiful, distorted lens shaped by their upbringing, their experiences, what they’ve been rewarded for, and what they’ve been hurt by. That lens...
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Location: Windhoek, Namibia
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🤔 Why Does Your Maturity Come With an Increased Body Count

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Why does your maturity come with an increased body count? That’s the question that’s been living rent free in my head lately, and honestly, it’s starting to redecorate. It’s put up wallpaper. It’s bought a plant. It’s not leaving. Think about it. We spend our entire adolescence being told to keep our legs crossed like we’re guarding the last slice of pizza at a birthday party. Abstinence. Purity. Wait until you’re married. Wait until you’re in love. Wait until you’re ready. Wait until the stars align, the moon is in the right phase, and you’ve completed a twelve step program on self respect with a certificate to prove it. Then you hit your twenties and the script gets flipped so fast you get whiplash. Now you’re supposed to have experience. You’re supposed to know what you’re doing. You’re supposed to have a body count that’s high enough to prove you’re desirable but low enough to prove you’re not a menace to society. Good luck finding that sweet spot. It’s like trying to hit a moving ...
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Location: Windhoek, Namibia
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Happy Wife Happy Life and Other Mediocre Aspirations

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Let’s talk about the dumbest piece of advice ever uttered by a man in a recliner. “Happy wife, happy life.” Whoever said that should be gently but firmly escorted to the nearest exit. Possibly beaten with a pool noodle. I’m not saying I condone violence. I’m saying I understand it. I’m also saying I’ve thought about it. Repeatedly. While smiling. What does that even mean? Happy wife, happy life. Translation, if you need one. “If she’s not actively shouting at me, I can watch the football in peace.” That’s the dream? That’s the aspiration? A woman in the other room who is mildly dissatisfied but quiet enough that you can pretend everything is fine? Congratulations, you’ve achieved mediocrity. Please collect your trophy on the way out. It’s a participation ribbon. It says “You Tried” in Comic Sans. Here’s the part nobody wants to admit. “Happy wife, happy life” is basically the marital equivalent of “don’t poke the bear.” Except the bear is a human woman with feelings and a memory that g...
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Location: Windhoek, Namibia
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The Gag Reel Is the Real Reel

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Listen. I need to vent before my eyeballs get permanent damage from rolling so far back into my skull they touch my brain. If I see ONE more person posting their 5AM workout routine, complete with the perfectly lit sunrise and their abs that look like they were chiseled by God himself on a good day, I’m going to lose it. And don’t even get me started on the sauna to cold plunge pipeline. Congratulations, you’re part Viking, part lizard. We get it. You’re basically a superhero with a $300 monthly wellness subscription. Hashtag beast mode. Hashtag disciplined. Hashtag I have no actual personality so I made fitness my entire identity. And the parenting content. OH. The parenting content. The whimsical, Instagram worthy snacks shaped like farm animals that little Timmy apparently eats without complaint and definitely doesn’t throw at the wall while screaming about how the cucumber is “too green.” The sensory bins. The Montessori playrooms that look like a West Elm catalog exploded in a pre...
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Location: Windhoek, Namibia
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😇The Saboteur in the Circle

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Let's be honest. Female friendship is always a beautiful, supportive sisterhood where everyone celebrates each other's joy. Except when it isn't. And it often isn't. Let's discuss. There is a quiet phenomenon that rarely gets discussed openly. It lives in group chats, in whispered conversations over brunch, and in the uncomfortable silence that follows when someone announces they are in a serious relationship. It is the unspoken tension between loyalty to friends and loyalty to a partner. And it has destroyed more relationships than we care to admit. But sure, let us keep pretending that everyone is rooting for you. The saying goes that women keep women single. Provocative? Absolutely. True? Well, let us just say the shoe fits more feet than anyone wants to admit. The idea is not that all single women are malicious or that female friendship is inherently toxic. Far from it. The idea is that some friendships, particularly those built on shared singledom and mutual va...
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Location: Windhoek, Namibia
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Reclaiming Identity in an Age of Excess

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Oh, good. Another day, another opportunity to discuss how we are all doing just fine. There is a conversation we are not having loudly enough. It sits beneath the surface of curated feeds, behind the filtered selfies, and under the fluorescent lights of cosmetic clinics. It is a conversation about identity, ancestry, and the quiet violence we do to ourselves when we chase a beauty standard that was never ours to begin with. But sure, let us keep pretending this is all just a vibe. To be a Black woman who wears the hair of a white woman is not merely a style choice. It is a statement. Groundbreaking, I know. To go under the knife to alter one's features toward a more Eurocentric ideal is not just a procedure. It is a confession. And we need to start calling these things what they are. Not preferences. Not harmless fun. But symptoms of a deeper disease. Wild concept, right? Let me be clear. Adorning yourself is not evil. Playing with makeup, trying new hairstyles, wearing extensions ...
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Location: Windhoek, Namibia
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