Blogs

Let’s be honest: no matter how many vision boards we craft, planners we buy, or affirmations we whisper over our morning matcha, life has an uncanny knack for throwing the schedule straight out the window.

I used to think if I could just PLAN BETTER, WORK HARDER, TICK all the RIGHT BOXES, I’d reach this magical destination where everything was CALM, EASY and SORTED. You know, a bit like one of those Pinterest homes, white walls, symmetrical cushions, not a stray sock or crisis in sight.

But spoiler alert: that doesn’t exist. Or if it does, I certainly haven’t found it. And here’s the twist, I’m okay with that. Because chasing perfection is a full-time job with zero benefits, and frankly, it’s exhausting. These days, I’m not chasing perfect. I’m collecting EXTRAORDINARY moments. BIG ONES, SMALL ONES, WONKY ONES, and especially the MESSY ONES that make the best stories later.

Read more: Stuffed Suitcases, and Happy Accidents – A Life Less Perfect, But Much More Fun

Remember when curling up with a book felt like the height of luxury? A cup of tea, a warm blanket, and 300 pages of unadulterated escapism? These days, we’re more likely to be curled up with our phones, scrolling endlessly through Instagram reels, TikToks, or those oddly satisfying cake-cutting videos. The book sits untouched on the bedside table, silently judging us. And you know what? We still don’t pick it up.

Let’s just call it like it is: reading books isn’t bringing us the same joy it used to. And no, it’s not because we’ve all suddenly become uncultured or lazy, it’s because our phones are basically joy slot machines. Flashing lights, colours, sounds, notifications, and that sweet, sweet dopamine hit every time someone likes our post. How’s a humble paperback supposed to compete with that?

So, what’s really going on? Why have we, lovers of stories and beautiful prose, become loyal to the scroll?

Read more: Why We’re Not Reading Books Anymore (And Why Scrolling Feels So Damn Good)

There’s a phrase I once heard from a cheerful woman at a farmers’ market in Kitchener, Ontario, Canada. She was selling jars of homemade chutney with names like “Cheeky Chilli” and “Proper Pickled Pear”, and when I accidentally knocked over her display (yes, me, always the kultz), she smiled and said, “Bless your troubles. They’ve brought you here.” I’ve never forgotten that. Mostly because I was mortified. But also because, dammit, she was RIGHT.

What if our troubles were blessings in disguise? Not in the toxic positivity, “Everything happens for a reason” kind of way. But in the raw, messy, “life-punched-me-in-the-face-but-I-got-up-and-dusted-myself-off” kind of way. You know, the kind that involves tears, takeaway curries, and late-night binges of Netflix with a dog curled up at your feet (Hi, Samosa).

Read more: Bless This Beautiful Chaos: Why I’m Thanking My Troubles (Yes, Really)

Picture this: You’re clutching your morning coffee, the elixir of life, the very thing keeping you from turning into a grumpy gremlin. Then, out of nowhere, someone bumps into you. Boom! Coffee spills everywhere. Disaster.

Naturally, you curse under your breath, wipe your now caffeine-drenched clothes, and moan, "Why did my coffee spill?!"

Obvious answer? Because someone rudely jolted you.

But here’s the plot twist – that’s actually the wrong answer.

Read more: The Coffee Spill That Exposes What’s Really Inside You!