Hello Everyone, wishing you a happy Sunday! 😊

I’ve been thinking about sharing this on the main page. Not for pity, but because the struggle is real, and I know I’m not alone. This is a long story short, like 5-ish years compressed into a zip-file.

🎓 Degrees of Exhaustion: I set out to conquer university like a noble knight with a planner instead of a sword. My husband says I flew through it like a breeze—though I’d argue it was more like a hurricane with a sugar addiction. Sure, I easily graduated, but not before sacrificing countless hours of my life and a small forest’s worth of sticky notes. I emerged victorious, yes, but also slightly crispy around the edges, like the pizza dough I like.🍕

💼 Climbing the Ladder... Then Jumping Off: Then came the promotions. Oh, the promotions! I climbed the corporate ladder so fast I got altitude sickness. Twice. I was the best manager, my team was the best in collaboration—twice again! But while the trophies collected dust, my soul collected sighs. I was good at it, but I was also good at pretending I wasn’t miserable. Turns out, being a “high performer” doesn’t mean you’re highly fulfilled. Who knew? Manager of the year, miserable of the month. 😔

🧘‍♀️ The Peace Treaty: Eventually, I waved the white flag. I didn’t want to be the next corporate superhero—I just wanted to be the side character who shows up, helps out, teaches a bit, and then goes home to a cup of tea and a quiet evening. Peace, routine, books, and a solid Wi-Fi connection—that’s my dream now. My husband, ever the cheerleader, said he was proud of my success but had never seen me so unhappy. And he’s seen me after hitting my pinky toe in the dark half asleep, so that’s saying something. 😄

🔄 Back, Forth, and Sideways: Doors stayed open for me, so I tried to return to a job I once liked—half a year of “meh” work but great people. Sadly, paperwork delays meant they had to move on. Life, right? I wasn’t going back to the burnout ex-brigade, so I braved three interviews. One was a snoozefest, the second was a red-flag parade (they asked about my rent and my husband’s job—what is this, a dating app?), and the third… well, I almost skipped it (no energy excuse). But I went, clicked with the team, got the terms I wanted, and now I’m in a new clinic with a fresh crew. Fewer estrogen gossip storms, more guy banter—less drama, more dad jokes. I’ll take it. ✅

🧠 Experience The Best (and Most Exhausting) Teacher: At 37, I’m the most experienced one on the team, which is both flattering and mildly terrifying. But I love teaching, and they say we complement each other well. It’s like a workplace rom-com, minus the romance and plus a lot of hand sanitizer. I’m grateful for every job, every misstep, every “what was I thinking” moment—they all taught me what I want, what I don’t, and who I am when I’m not trying to be something or everything for others. Sorry that I just don’t feel that main-character vibe, not even the slightest, not at all. 😐

🏃‍♀️ Fitness? More Like Fit-ish: Now, about working out… I tried. I really did. But somehow, “working out” always turned into just “working.” My fitness journey has been more of a scenic detour: vertigo, knee pain, back pain, actual horse-related injuries (yes, plural), and a brief stint of being stepped on by a horse. I’ve been on and off more than a faulty light switch. I even tried tricking my brain with FB calendar walks—spoiler: my brain wasn’t fooled. 😑

🩺 Health, Hormones & Heartache: Add in hormonal chaos, a sprinkle of maybe-depression, and the loss of a friend (she’s alive, just… multi-faced), and it’s been a ride. I’ve lost about 10kg this year, which is great, but I’m still the heaviest I’ve ever been. Waiting on blood results now—probably pre-diabetic, because apparently my blood is just too sweet for its own good. Oh, my sweet chocolates! I’ve dipped in and out of this FB Community space, telling myself I don’t deserve to be here until I “get serious.” But guess what? I’m not that serious. I’m just human. And I need help.

💬 The Real Talk: I remember all the “be kind to yourself” mantras, but they’ve become bullet points in a dusty notebook I never open. I keep scheduling and rescheduling, but never actually starting. And I’m scared—of being seen, judged, questioned. But maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop hiding behind “I’ll start Monday or next week or January 1st” and start showing up as I am. Not perfect. Not polished. Just present.

P.S. I’ll start tomorrow, promise. 🤞