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.
From Carefully Laid Plans to Chaos (and Back Again)
Let’s take moving back to London in early 2025. It wasn’t exactly part of some grand, perfectly-timed life strategy. But there I was, suitcase stuffed, a heart full of hope, and the whole gang in tow: My youngest adult child, Samosa (who thinks she runs the place) and Kajal the cat (who absolutely does).
We moved into my childhood home, with my mum, my son’s beloved Nanima, making it three generations under one roof. Four, if you count Samosa and Kajal, which frankly, we do. 
It’s been chaotic, beautiful, noisy, nostalgic, and occasionally biscuit-fuelled. My youngest is finding his feet with ADHD, young adulthood, and the adventure of becoming his own person, and he’s doing his chores, thank you very much. (Yes, even the bins.)
There are moments of pure gold, like catching him and Nanima deep in conversation over tea, or watching Kajal bask in the exact spot I used to read books as a kid. Then there are the usual quirks of shared living: differing opinions on laundry frequency, the mysterious vanishing socks, and Nanima’s low-key war with Samosa over who gets the comfiest chair (Nanima rules!!)
But honestly? I wouldn’t trade it. Some days we laugh until we cry. Other days we move gently, with music playing and mugs of chai in hand. And every now and then, there’s a moment that reminds me just how sacred and sweet this imperfect little setup really is.
The London Chapter: Family, Friends, and Full-Volume Laughs
One of the best parts of being back in London? Reconnecting with my people. My dearest and closest friends, my brother, my mum (Let’s just say family WhatsApp chats have evolved into a whole new form of performance art.)
There’s something so grounding about being near those who’ve known you since your dodgy haircut days, who’ve seen you cry over curry, and who still show up with love and snacks.
From spontaneous dinner nights filled with too much garlic and not enough chairs, to philosophical heart-to-hearts over street chai and samosas, these are the moments that refill my cup. No filters. No perfection. Just real people, real love, and a lot of overlapping conversations.
I’ve had nights with friends that started with a quick coffee and ended with us howling with laughter at my bestie’s kitchen table. I’ve had days with my mum that involved slightly passive-aggressive rearranging of her kitchen cabinets (thanks, Mum), but also the best hugs in the world. Oh and where my mum still calls me at 9:30pm to find out why I’m not home yet – we will always be her children, no matter what our age!
These people, they’re not perfect either. None of us are. But that’s exactly why it works.
The Magic of the Unexpected
Let’s talk about the moments you can’t plan, the kind that sneak up on you and turn an ordinary afternoon into a core memory.
Since moving back, some of my favourite moments haven’t been big or flashy at all. They’ve been cosy, spontaneous, and often centred around food (obviously). Like the time we sat around the kitchen table, three generations deep, with mugs of steaming chai, (and water, my kid doesn’t drink chai or coffee) a plate full of samosas and pakoras, chutneys of questionable spice levels, and enough McVitie’s chocolate biscuits to sink a small boat. My son has discovered the gem a block away, the local samosa shop, that started off in the back of the garage. They have samosa’s in all flavours and loves them; pizza, haloumi & kale, paneer, lamb and so many more.
We were meant to be sorting the shed, but instead we got lost in stories. Mum (aka Nanima) telling tales from “back in her day, in Kenya,” my son throwing in sarcastic commentary, and me trying not to choke on my chai from laughing. Kajal gave us side-eye from the patio door, Samosa begged like her life depended on a bite of pakora, and I remember thinking: this is the good stuff.
Not the carefully curated dinners. Not the scheduled fun. But the messy, noisy, biscuit-crumbed afternoons that feel like home.
It reminded me of childhood, where McVitie’s were basically a food group, and chai was a constant comfort, poured, shared, and always slightly too hot.
This is what I mean by extraordinary moments. They don’t need planning or perfection, they just need presence. A willingness to pause. To laugh. To pass the chutney and make space for joy.
The Myth of “When Everything’s Perfect…”
So many women I work with (especially in my retreats and coaching sessions) tell me they’ll be happy when…
- “When the KIDS are OLDER.”
- “When I LOSE the WEIGHT.”
- “When WORK calms DOWN.”
- “When I can finally BOOK that YOGA RETREAT in Bali.”
But here’s the truth bomb I like to gently drop: Happiness isn’t a destination. It’s a decision. A practice. A choice we make every single day, even when things look far from ideal. This blog really resonates with the When I..
Take my Live Love Laugh Retreats which I started with my friend Rachel. They’re full of heart, soul, and the occasional logistical hiccup. But somehow, those weekends become powerful because they’re real. Men and women come in frazzled and burnt out, and leave glowing, not because it was perfect, but because they were held, heard, and given permission to just be.
Ditch the Glass of Wine and the Doom Scroll (Please)
And can we talk bedtime routines for a minute?
There’s this habit I keep seeing, a glass of wine, a scroll through Instagram or Netflix until your eyes bleed, and calling it “me time.” But it’s not restorative. It’s a dopamine trap. A sugar-coated version of self-soothing that leaves you more frazzled the next day.
What if instead, we chose joy? Not perfection, JUST JOY. A little colouring. A bit of stretching. A cheeky affirmation (“I am a radiant goddess” is my current fav). Or even just putting your phone on Do Not Disturb and remembering what your actual face looks like without blue light reflecting off it
Life is Not a Straight Line
I didn’t plan to lose my dog Pakora years ago to my ex. I didn’t plan for my marriage of 24 years to end, or for my whole support system to vanish overnight. That’s not the kind of thing you pencil into your 5-10 year plan, right?
But those heartbreaks cracked me open in ways that eventually led to growth, to healing, to this version of me. The one who laughs loud, who builds from the ashes, who writes fun blogs and believes women deserve better than burnout and beige emotional lives.
Would I trade the pain for a smoother ride? Maybe. But I wouldn’t be who I am now without it. And I like who I am now, paint splatters, messy house, oversized mugs of chai and all.
Choose Extraordinary, Not Perfect
So what does an extraordinary life look like?
- It looks like DANCING in your kitchen while your dog JUDGES you.
- It looks like finally saying “NO” to things that drain you.
- It looks like choosing CONNECTION over control.
- t looks like LAUGHTER through tears, and FRIENDS who remind you who you are when you forget.
- It looks like HUGS, WILD DREAMS, REAL TALK and WOBBLY COURAGE.
- It looks like LIVING FULLY, even when things don’t look INSTAGRAM-PERFECT.
Final Word (Because Even Blogs Need an End)
If you’re sitting in the middle of your own chaos right now, wondering when things will “go back to normal,” let me gently offer you this: maybe normal was never the GOAL. Maybe “normal” was OVERRATED. Maybe the goal is JOY. FULFILMENT. FREEDOM. MEANING.
Don’t wait for everything to be just right before you allow yourself to be happy.
Life rarely goes exactly as we plan, but oh, what magic we can make when we choose PRESENCE, GRATITUDE, and a sprinkle of RIDICULOUS JOY.
Let PERFECTION go. Chase EXTRAORDINARY MOMENTS instead.
