Blogs
I never write anything political. I don’t. I’d much rather chat about henna, healing, gratitude, and happiness. Throw in some metaphors about life being like overcooked dal, mushy, but salvageable with the right spices. But today? Today I’m FUMING!.
Head-throbbing, eye-twitching, muttering-swear-words-under-my-breath kind of fuming.
And here’s the thing: I’m not just angry, I’m HELPLESSLY ANGRY. And that, is the worst kind. Because anger you can direct. Helplessness? That sits in your gut and rots like bad bacteria.
Let me explain.
Read more: British by Right, Blocked by Bureaucracy: The Absurdity of Coming Home
Right, let me be completely honest with you.
I’ve made this mistake more times than I care to admit. And by “more times,” I mean it’s practically become a Thursday tradition. You’d think I’d have learnt by now, but nope—apparently, I have a PhD in self-sabotage.
Last night was a classic.
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
Let’s talk about gratitude. That word. That well-meaning, overly polished, sunbeam-through-the-clouds kind of word that makes some of us want to scream into a pillow. Or throw that pillow out the window. Especially when life feels like a chaotic Netflix drama, and someone chirps, “Just be grateful!”
Ugh.
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)
Hi, I'm Bhupi
I used to be in your shoes.
I know what it's like to be burned out, overwhelmed, and stressed out.
I relied on pizza and Netflix.
Trust me, YOU are not ALONE!
Colour To De-stress
Colour Bhupi's hand-drawn mandalas to relax, breathe, chill out and de-stress!
