Life After 50 – The Balanced Equation

From Delhi to Agra: Elephants, Love Stories, and Two Highway Pit Stops

The Yamuna Expressway is less a highway and more an unscripted Bollywood drama—tractors, cows, and helmet-free bikers vying for space while sacred cows judge the chaos from the sidelines. Our journey to Agra included not one, but two memorable pit stops: a pricey latte at Highway Masala (worth it for the clean restroom alone) and a Butter Paneer Burger at McDonald’s that redefined fast food. But the real highlight was the Elephant Conservation and Care Centre, where majestic giants, once abused, now thrive in peace. Add a glittering Taj Mahal love story performance to the mix, and you’ve got a day as unforgettable as it was chaotic.

Our day began in Delhi with a warm and hearty breakfast at Prakash Kutir, where Ajay and Savita’s hospitality could convince anyone to stay forever. But the road to Agra beckoned, promising elephants, a taste of history, and adventures along the way.

The Yamuna Expressway: A Highway of Contrasts

The Yamuna Expressway is less a highway and more an unscripted drama. Tractors share lanes with speeding cars, helmets and seatbelts are treated as optional, and sacred cows amble about as if they own the place (they probably do). The roadside scenery is an ever-changing slideshow of paddock cricket matches, brick kilns, and rubbish that stretches endlessly. There was even a dead dog and more than one abandoned bicycle—because why not add a little mystery to the mix?How did that dog die? I find myself wondering. It did not look like he’d been run over, possibly malnourishment or exhaustion I suspect.

Our first stop was Highway Masala, a roadside haven where I indulged in a latte that cost 335 rupees ($6.33 after tax and tip). Pricey, yes, but after a morning of visual chaos, it was worth every penny. Karen, our ever-resourceful guide, tipped the restroom attendant generously, ensuring we all got to freshen up in clean, civilized conditions—a rare and much-appreciated treat on this journey.

Back on the road, the conversations in the bus merged into a pleasant hum as we passed Mathura’s signature brick-making kilns and teenagers playing cricket on any patch of dirt they could find. My travel thoughts turned contemplative, but hunger soon pulled me back into the moment.

Lunch at McDonald’s: A Quick Bite Before the Elephants

With the Elephant Conservation and Care Centre (ECCC) as the day’s highlight, Karen, ever mindful of the clock, opted for a no-nonsense lunch at McDonald’s. This was not McDonalds as we knew it in Australia; this was India, and I embraced it wholeheartedly by ordering a Butter Paneer Burger (despite the fact I avoid McDonald’s and any fast food ordinarily). Equal parts spicy, buttery, and satisfying, it felt like a tiny triumph of Indian flavor over fast food uniformity.

The quick meal allowed us to stay on schedule while fueling up for what we all knew would be the most impactful part of the day—the visit to the elephants.

Elephant Conservation and Care Centre (ECCC): A Sanctuary of Second Chances

An impactful presentation…why this work is so important.

Mathura brought us to the ECCC, a sanctuary dedicated to rescuing and rehabilitating abused and exploited elephants. Here, these majestic animals are given a second chance at life, free from the chains—both literal and figurative—that once bound them. Each elephant has a story, and hearing them is equal parts heartbreaking and hopeful. The presenter was exceptional. What is most impressive is the centre’s focus on rehabilitating the elephants owners and family as well in order to break the cycle altogether.

Mia, who spent decades performing in circuses and was often starved and beaten had arrived at the centre in a state of abject physical and mental distress. Now she spends her days basking in the sun, playing in the mud, and eating nourishing food alongside her BFF Rhea. Learning about the abuse these elephants endured and seeing their transformation into happier, healthier creatures was a humbling experience that left us all a little more compassionate—and a lot more aware.

https://wildlifesos.org/

Mia aged 52 – note her poor feet needing continued treatment as a result of abuse suffered before being rescued.

Agra: Love, Lights, and a Bit of Contemplation

As we arrived in Agra, the chaotic energy of the day gave way to the serene charm of Da Bungalow, a retreat that combines modern comfort with traditional Indian aesthetics.

The evening took us to the Agra Mohabbat The Taj Show, a glittering spectacle that brought the love story of Emperor Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal to life. With its vibrant costumes, entrancing music, and heartfelt performances, it was the perfect way to end a day that had already felt larger than life.

Reflections on the Journey

As we made our way back to Da Bungalow, the chatter of the group softened, and my thoughts drifted to the changes awaiting me back home. My house is on the market, with a buyer viewing it tomorrow morning. Will my next chapter take me to another town? Or, will I stay in the town I’ve come to love. These questions hung in the air, unanswered but oddly comforting in their ambiguity.

For now, I am content to let the answers come in their own time. Tomorrow, the Taj Mahal awaits. If it’s even half as spectacular as the Butter Paneer Burger, I’ll call it a win. For today, I’m just grateful for elephants, clean restrooms, and the magic of being present on this wild, wonderful journey.

Travel for Self-Exploration: A Walk, A Tuk Tuk, and a Bargain Henna Tattoo

There’s something about stepping into a foreign country that forces you to take a good, hard look at yourself. Maybe it’s the jarring unfamiliarity—the sights, smells, and sounds that make you acutely aware of how far you are from your comfort zone. Or maybe it’s the unexpected moments, the small but profound ones, that reveal parts of yourself you didn’t even know needed revealing. Either way, travel has a way of turning introspection into a full-time hobby.

Even though I’m here in India with two incredible women and part of a lively 12-person touring group, I’ve found that travel leaves plenty of room for self-reflection. And let’s be honest—it’s not all serene meditation and moments of spiritual awakening. There’s also the “Why did I pack three pairs of shoes when I’ve only worn two?” type of realization and the “Is that Brahman cow judging me?” moment of self-awareness. Spoiler alert: it probably was.

The Morning “Getting Lost Walk”

Every holiday we take starts with the same ritual: a “getting lost walk.” It’s less about having a plan and more about wandering with the vague intention of familiarizing ourselves with the area. Today’s quest? To find a banyan tree. That’s it. Simple, right?

Well, not exactly. The banyan tree remained stubbornly elusive, but the walk rewarded us in other ways. First, there were the squirrels—dozens of them darting around, chattering, and occasionally pausing to give us what I can only describe as judgmental looks. Then, there was the lone ferret, who seemed entirely unbothered by our presence, as if ferrets in city streets were the most normal thing in the world.

And of course, there were the dogs. A veritable parade of strays in every shape and size, each with their own personality. Some trotted confidently as if they owned the streets, others lounged lazily in patches of sunlight, and one sat under a makeshift stall as if waiting for a chai latte. Amongst them were the obvious exceptions—two dogs wearing jackets advertising that they were definitely not strays. Their smug air practically screamed, “I have a family. Do you?”

To top it all off, we stumbled upon a magnificent Brahman cow lounging regally amongst a pile of rubbish down a narrow alley. There was something almost poetic about its presence—majestic and serene in the chaos of its surroundings, like a meditating monk who just happened to be surrounded by discarded plastic bottles.

The Map Said 4.5km… Lies, All Lies

Buoyed by our morning wander, we decided to take on an even bigger adventure in the afternoon: walking 4.5 kilometers to Lajpat Nagar Central Market from our bed-and-breakfast in Hauz Khas. The map made it look like a breezy stroll. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.

Navigating the streets was like a real-life game of Frogger, dodging cars, bikes, cows, and the occasional enthusiastic honk from a passing tuk tuk. By the time we arrived, sweaty and slightly frazzled, we were questioning our decision-making skills. But the market? Worth every step. Vibrant fabrics, stunning traditional Indian clothing, and the kind of sensory overload that leaves you equal parts exhausted and exhilarated.

I even treated myself to a henna tattoo for the equivalent of AUD $4. Four dollars! At that price, I briefly considered covering my entire arm, but common sense prevailed (barely). It’s intricate, beautiful, and a temporary reminder of a day that was as chaotic as it was unforgettable.

The Tuk Tuk Ride: Chaos Meets Adventure

After three hours of market wandering (and acquiring more treasures than our bags could possibly hold), the idea of walking back was laughable. Enter: the tuk tuk.

Our driver was a magician behind the wheel, deftly navigating Delhi’s organized chaos with a mix of confidence, daring, and what I can only assume was divine intervention. We clung to the sides, laughing and shrieking as we zipped past traffic, potholes, and pedestrians. At one point, I’m fairly certain we grazed a guy on a motorbike, but neither the driver nor he seemed remotely fazed. By the time we made it back, we were windblown, exhilarated, and holding onto our market loot like victorious treasure hunters.

Packing, Repacking, and Life Lessons

Travel is a masterclass in letting go—literally and figuratively. Every morning, I repack my bag, trying to create some semblance of order. Meanwhile, one of my travel buddies spent an hour carefully reorganizing her suitcase today to make room for a traditional dress she couldn’t resist. Watching her was like watching a sculptor at work, each fold and placement deliberate. Meanwhile, I’m over here cramming scarves into every available crevice and hoping the zippers hold.

But here’s the thing: travel teaches you to strip life down to essentials. You carry what you need, and you learn to let go of the rest—whether it’s physical clutter or the mental kind that weighs you down. And isn’t that what life is all about? (Okay, maybe not the part where I bought yet another scarf, but let’s focus on the metaphor here.)

Travel: The Ultimate Mirror

Travel isn’t just about seeing new places; it’s about seeing yourself in new ways. Today’s adventures—our “getting lost walk,” the market trek, and the tuk tuk thrill ride—reminded me that the joy of travel lies in its unpredictability. It pushes you out of your comfort zone, challenges you to adapt, and forces you to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

So, here’s to the stray dogs, the regal Brahman cow, the $4 henna tattoo, and the lessons travel teaches us along the way. Here’s to tuk tuk rides that leave you breathless and moments that remind you how alive you really are. And most of all, here’s to finding joy, chaos, and clarity—one “getting lost walk” at a time.

Finding Peace This Christmas: A Journey of Growth

Christmas Eve Morning: A Sacred Stillness

It’s Christmas Eve morning. Like most mornings, I wake to the soft dawn light. It streams through the open shutters of my bedroom overlooking the Blue Mountains. Today’s light feels particularly radiant, bathing the room in a golden glow and promising the start of a beautiful day. The sun rises with its unhurried elegance, and I find myself drawn to my yoga mat, grounding myself in meditation. I savor the stillness of this sacred moment, letting the peace wash over me.

Unusually, my peace is interrupted by a phone call. It’s my partner, 60 kilometers away, gently reminding me that he’s patiently waiting for my arrival later today. Christmas treats are packed, and together we’ll prepare our lunch for tomorrow. His kind voice carries a reassurance that surprises me. I feel truly at peace. This happens even in this quieter, more solitary lead-up to Christmas.

Christmas has always been a complex time since my divorce. With my boys no longer at home, it has often felt tinged with loneliness. In past years, I buried those feelings in busyness. I cooked meals for my parents and took them to their home. I visited my sister, brother, and aunt, all in separate places. The constant flurry of activity left little time to sit with my emotions.

This year has been different. I’ve intentionally allowed myself to feel the emotions for the first time. I’ve processed the emotions that surfaced in the weeks leading up to today. Instead of pushing them aside, I’ve worked through them, piece by piece. And now, as Christmas approaches, I’ve reached a quiet acceptance: everything is exactly as it is meant to be. There’s peace in letting go of the past and embracing the moment, just as it is.

2024: A Year of Challenge and Growth

2024 was a challenging year—there’s no doubt about that. But as the months rolled on, I discovered something remarkable: I’ve gotten better at navigating life’s inevitable ups and downs. Yes, some moments tested me. There were tears, big emotions, and times when life threw its curveballs. But I’ve learned not to let those moments keep me down for long.

I’ve started embracing emotion for what it truly is—e(motion)—energy in motion. It’s meant to move through us, not get stuck. Brene Brown’s analogy that emotions are like trains traveling through a tunnel resonates deeply with me. Solitude is the gift that lets me sit with my emotions. I can feel them fully. Then, I let them pass through that tunnel. And here’s the beautiful part: as I practice this, I notice the process gets quicker. How powerful is that? I realise I can shift my emotional state. I do this not by suppressing it but by feeling it. I release it and embrace the growth it brings. Honestly, it feels like I’m developing a superpower.

So, what’s changed? A big part is the sacred, joyful collection of rituals and practices I’ve created for myself. They’re small things—simple and ordinary—but they bring me immense joy. It is a morning meditation. It’s a walk in the mountains. It is lighting a candle at the end of the day, or at the beginning of a yoga practice. These practices honour my own needs. They keep me grounded. They’re the foundation. They allow me to show up for others in a true way. I do this without losing myself in the process. Most of the time, anyway. Let’s call it progress, not perfection. 😉

Closing One Chapter to Open Another

Five years after my divorce, I finally feel ready to let go of something I’ve held onto tightly: my home. Yesterday, I signed the contract with the agent. I spent so much time toying with the idea of selling. I often wondered what life might look like beyond these walls. Suddenly, it felt right. The decision didn’t come overnight—it’s been a slow, deliberate process. I’ve entertained the idea. I have contemplated it in my mind and heart. I tried it on for size in countless ways. But now, I feel ready to close this chapter and start anew.

As Rumi so beautifully says:

“This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.”

That’s exactly where I find myself. I have no clear picture of what 2025 will bring. I know that I’ll no longer be tied to the identity this home has attached to me. It defined me as mother, wife, suburbanite, and host. It’s time to redefine myself without the labels this space has so lovingly carried for me. It’s a leap into the unknown, but for the first time, it feels exhilarating rather than daunting.

Looking Ahead to 2025

Anticipation and Gratitude: Embracing What’s Next

I am flying to India in January, and with each passing day, the anticipation builds. People tell me such a journey can be life-changing. But here’s the thing: when you live fully in the moment, every moment is life-changing. There are no expectations, no regrets—just the now. How freeing is that?

Perhaps when I return, a new home will have found its way to me. Perhaps it will take longer. Who knows? All I know is this: I’m embracing the unknown for what feels like the first time in my 55 years. As I write this, if I’m honest, I remember this feeling from childhood. I’m embracing it with a sense of wonder. It’s that same exhilaration I felt as a little girl when I discovered the tree outside my bedroom window and begged my mum for a spoonful of Vegemite to fuel my climb. That pure, unfiltered anticipation is what I’m feeling now as I look ahead to 2025.

The thought excites me. It’s a blank canvas. It’s an opportunity to create a space that reflects who I am now. It does not reflect who I’ve been. The Blue Mountains will stay my sanctuary. My future identity will be lighter and freer. It will be untethered from the stories of the past.

Gratitude for the Chapter That’s Closing

This Christmas, I am preparing to leave the home that has held so much of my story. I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. I’m grateful for the years I’ve spent here. I appreciate the growth it has nurtured. I admire, in myself, the courage it has taken to finally step into what’s next. This home has been a place of love, resilience, and transformation, and now it’s time to carry those lessons forward.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: the joy we cultivate within ourselves radiates outward. It helps us show up, serve, and live fully—without losing sight of who we truly are. That joy is my anchor as I move into this next chapter.

Carrying Peace Into the Holidays

As the day unfolds, I’ll pack up the Christmas goodies and head to my partner’s place. But I won’t just be carrying treats—I’ll be bringing the joy and peace that have taken root in my heart. This Christmas feels different, lighter. It’s a season of transition, a celebration of what’s been and what’s to come. Wherever this journey takes me, I’m ready to greet it with open arms and a heart full of gratitude. Wherever you are today, I hope you’re finding your own moments of stillness. I wish that you experience joy and maybe even a little courage to take a step without feet. Wishing you a Christmas filled with light and love. 🎄✨

The Four Dharma Principles for Peace and Clarity

In 2016, I found myself lying on my bathroom floor, utterly spent from yet another round of chemo. I was somewhere between exhaustion and sheer determination. I started listening to Yoga and the Dark Night of the Soul by Simon Haas on Audible. As I have already mentioned, I was searching for anxiety antidotes. That book opened the door to new possibilities. A new way of thinking and over time, a new way of being. Soon enough, I had The Book of Dharma lined up. It was set to be my next dose of inspiration.

As the YogiCFO, I aim to balance Dharma and Data. I thought now is a good time to introduce Dharma.

I was drawn to yoga when I heard it described as the “Science of the Mind.” This wasn’t about blind faith or dogma. It was about trying things out and seeing what worked. I kept only what resonated with me. That same spirit of experimentation drew me to dharma. In ancient Indian texts, dharma was the set of principles used to guide sovereigns in ruling wisely. And, after facing cancer, I came to realize I was my own “sovereign” in the truest sense. Cancer made one thing clear: every choice I made came with consequences, and only I could walk that journey. I wanted my decisions to be rooted in wisdom, not fear. I realised life was short, and prior to this, I was not really fulfilling my potential.

For me, dharma has been less of a rulebook and more of a compass, as Simon Haas describes it. It’s a way to navigate life with purpose by holding close four principles: Truth, Purity, Non-Violence, and Discipline. I’m not here to tell anyone else how to live. I can say that these principles have offered me a lifeline when I needed one. Through the storms of cancer treatment and chronic pain, facing the haunting fears of recurrence, and learning to find peace in solitude, dharma has been a gentle guide back to myself. Here’s how each principle has shown up for me.

Truth: The Art of Being Honest with Myself

Truth sounds straightforward, right? Just be honest. But after a cancer diagnosis, honesty takes on a new level. I convinced myself for a while that I was okay, that I was moving forward without fear. But if I was honest, I was living with a constant, nagging worry about recurrence. Truth, I learned, isn’t about pretending to be fearless or always having it together—it’s about admitting when I don’t.

These days, Truth means being real about my fears and not burying them under a mask of “I’m fine.” Sometimes, that’s admitting I’m scared or that I’m not okay. By acknowledging what’s really going on, I can acknowledge it, notice how it makes me feel and let it go. Truth, as it turns out, has been a source of freedom for me. It allows space for the parts of myself that need compassion. This is much better than denial.

Purity: Clearing Out the Clutter to Find Peace

Purity isn’t about some impossible level of perfection; it’s about clarity. For me, this principle became vital as I learned to manage chronic pain. Pain is exhausting—mentally, emotionally, physically. If I let my mind fill up with resentment, it only worsens the situation. Adding frustration is like fueling an already intense fire.

So, Purity for me is about letting go of that mental clutter and simplifying. I make time each day to clear my thoughts through meditation or writing. I let go of the “extras” that don’t serve me. Even physically, I’ve pared down my space to include only things that bring some peace or joy. Creating this clarity doesn’t make the pain go away. However, it allows me to be present with it. Instead of getting lost in the fog of frustration, I can face it directly. When I keep things clear, I feel a bit more in control. I feel this way even when the pain is out of my hands.

Non-Violence: Treating Myself with Kindness (and Forgiving the Not-So-Great Days)

Non-Violence, or Ahimsa, has been a real journey. It’s about compassion, both toward others and myself. This hasn’t come easily for me, especially when it comes to loneliness. Loneliness can make even the most grounded person feel off-kilter. But I’ve found that when I practice Non-Violence toward myself, I can transform loneliness into solitude. Solitude becomes a place where I can grow and find meaning instead of just feeling isolated.

Some days, that means I let myself rest rather than pushing through. Other days, it’s letting myself feel what I’m feeling without layering on guilt or criticism. And yes, some days it’s as simple as reaching out to a friend. I don’t have to sit with the feeling that I need to do it all alone. Non-Violence reminds me that I deserve kindness, even on the hardest days. This is one of the most powerful lessons I’ve found in dharma.

Discipline: Showing Up for Myself, No Matter What

Discipline used to feel rigid, all about self-control and willpower. But these days, discipline feels softer, like a commitment to myself. After cancer, I needed to rebuild my routines, to show up in ways that nurtured rather than depleted me. Discipline became my way of finding stability in the chaos.

Keeping a bedtime routine, doing my yoga, or sticking to my morning tea ritual are acts of discipline. They remind me I’m worth the effort. The small choices matter. Each one builds on the other. They create a foundation I can rely on even when life throws a curveball. Discipline isn’t about being harsh with myself. It’s about staying consistent with the things that help me feel grounded and whole. Over time, discipline enables freedom.

Living by Dharma as a Gentle Guide

As Haas explains, Dharma isn’t about rules. It’s more of a framework, a gentle guide that brings clarity and helps me focus on what really matters. I’m not here to preach. I won’t tell anyone else what to do. These four principles have offered me something I desperately needed: a way to live with intention. They help me stay present, choose peace over chaos, and show myself some compassion in the process.

The real beauty of dharma is that it doesn’t demand perfection. Some days I’ll nail it, and other days? Well, we all have those days. I realign with Truth, Purity, Non-Violence, and Discipline. Then I feel like I’m steering my life more purposefully. Life won’t ever be perfectly smooth. However, it feels a little lighter. It feels a little clearer. Life becomes much more manageable when I have these principles as my compass.

Finding Your Own Path

As Simon Haas explains, the power of dharma truly shines when all four principles—Truth, Purity, Non-Violence, and Discipline—work together, supporting each other to create a balanced and purposeful life. Each principle reinforces the others, guiding us to make choices with integrity, clarity, compassion, and commitment. If you’re curious about dharma, try engaging with each principle in small, manageable ways, observing how they resonate and complement each other in daily life. Or, you could read the book! The Book Of Dharma

You don’t need to dive in all at once; just allow these principles to be gentle reminders, guiding you towards choices that feel aligned. And if you feel like sharing, I’d love to hear how these ideas shape your journey. What practices or perspectives help you navigate your own path? Drop a comment below—I’d love to learn from your experiences, too. After all, we’re all finding our way, one choice at a time.

The Creative Awakening – Finding Joy After the Empty Nest

Hello, dear readers! Today, we’re diving headfirst into that gloriously weird, wonderful journey of finding creativity once the kids have flown the coop. The house that was once bustling with slammed doors, lost homework, and constant noise is suddenly… quiet. Really quiet. And let me tell you, that silence? It can be both freeing and terrifying. What the heck do you do with all that empty space? I’ll tell you what I did: I had a creative awakening (involving paint, plants, and yes, even a blowtorch—but we’ll get to that).

The Empty Nest and The Great Identity Crisis

The Creative Awakening: Finding Joy After the Empty Nest (And Yes, a Blowtorch Was Involved)

When my children left home, it was a mixed bag of emotions. There was pride—they were off living their lives, which meant I’d done something right. There was a weird sense of relief—I no longer had to negotiate breakfast menus or rescue socks from the dog. But there was also a gnawing emptiness. My role as “Mom” had always been my headline act, and suddenly it was a bit part in a play where everyone else had moved to a new theater.

So, what did I do with that emptiness? Well, for a while, I did what many of us do: I tried to fill it with productivity. I threw myself into work, reorganized the pantry (to an obsessive degree), and even attempted cycling—once. Let’s just say cycling and I did not become fast friends. But something was missing. I needed a spark, a sense of joy, something that was just for me.

And then I remembered creativity—something I had pushed aside for years, buried under the chaos of raising kids and being everything to everyone. And it wasn’t always that way. Back in high school, I had been incredibly creative—I even won awards for textile and fashion design. I loved making things, experimenting with textures, and creating pieces that were uniquely mine. And I danced, oh how I danced! I studied classical ballet for 12 years, even teaching younger dancers, and finished just six months shy of my teaching certificate. That spark had always been there, but life had dimmed it.

Now that the house was quiet, I decided to find out if I still had that spark somewhere in me. Spoiler alert: I did, and it was ready to roar back to life.

The Messy, Beautiful Joy of Creating

I started small—a sketchpad and some colored pencils that I found gathering dust. I gave myself permission to be messy, to draw terribly, to doodle like a bored teenager in math class. And you know what? It felt amazing. It wasn’t about making art to impress anyone; it was about feeling the pencil on the page, about letting my mind wander and play. It was freeing, and it was fun.

Then I branched out. I took to painting, and let’s be clear, I am no Picasso. But my abstract attempts—full of color and chaos—now hang proudly in my office because they are mine. They represent my refusal to be perfect, my willingness to make a mess just because it feels good.

Next, I went into the garden. I dug my hands into the dirt, planted herbs, flowers, and vegetables, and felt something come alive in me as I nurtured those plants. There’s something wildly satisfying about seeing life grow out of something you’ve put in the ground. Plus, you get tomatoes, and who doesn’t love a good homegrown tomato?

Cooking also took on new meaning. I stopped seeing it as a chore and started experimenting—trying new recipes, using spices I couldn’t pronounce, and giving myself permission to create disasters that sometimes, miraculously, ended up delicious. The kitchen became my playground, and I discovered that there’s a kind of magic in turning random ingredients into something wonderful.

And then, there was welding. Yes, welding. Because why not? I’d always been curious about it—there’s something kind of badass about fusing metal together. It made me feel powerful, capable, and like I was creating something solid out of the raw materials of this new chapter in my life. And sure, there were some mishaps (burn marks are just creative scars, right?), but there was also a sense of triumph in every finished piece.

Travel also became a huge part of my creative awakening. With the kids out of the house, I had the freedom to explore. Whether it was a quick weekend road trip or a longer adventure, each journey sparked something in me. Seeing new places, tasting new foods, meeting new people—it was all fuel for the creative fire. I realized creativity isn’t just about what you make with your hands; it’s also about how you see the world and the stories you tell.

Creativity: The Ultimate Growth Hack

Creativity became my way to reconnect with myself. It reminded me that I wasn’t just a mother, or a worker, or a list of responsibilities—I was a person who still had things to explore, things to express, things to laugh about when they went hilariously wrong. It wasn’t about being “good” at anything. It was about the process, about giving myself permission to make a mess, to be curious, to find joy in something simply because it brought me joy.

Exercises to Rekindle Your Creativity (and Your Sense of Fun)

If you’re feeling ready for your own creative awakening, I’ve got some exercises to get you started—no pressure, no expectations, just fun:

The 10-Minute Doodle: Set a timer for ten minutes, grab a pen, and doodle. It doesn’t have to be anything specific. Let your hand move and see what happens. There are no rules—only the joy of making lines on a page. Bad doodles are highly encouraged.
Create a Collage of Joy: Grab some old magazines, newspapers, or print some photos online. Cut out images, colors, words, and textures that make you happy, and glue them onto a board. It’s like being a kid in art class again, except now you get to have wine while you do it.
Cook Like Nobody’s Watching: Pick a recipe you’ve never tried before, or better yet, make one up. Be messy. Add spices that smell good. Taste as you go. And if it turns out awful, well, you’ve got a story to tell and a reason to order takeout.
Take a Nature Walk/Hike and Collect Inspiration: Head outside with no agenda other than to notice what catches your eye. Pick up leaves, rocks, weird-shaped sticks—whatever speaks to you. Bring it home and let it inspire a drawing, a poem, or even just an arrangement on your table that makes you smile.
Try Welding (Or Something Equally Unexpected): Get out of your comfort zone. Whether it’s welding, woodworking, or something else that feels a little intimidating—go for it. There’s a thrill in trying something completely new and letting go of the expectation that you need to be great at it. Trust me, the experience alone is worth it.

Finding Joy in the Chaos of Creativity

The empty nest doesn’t have to be empty—it can be full of new possibilities, of rediscovery, of creation. It’s a chance to reconnect with yourself, to find out who you are beyond the roles you’ve played for others. It’s a chance to get messy, to play, to explore. And if you’re anything like me, you might just find that embracing creativity is the most fun you’ve had in a long time.

So grab that sketchpad, those gardening gloves, that blowtorch, or whatever it is that calls to you, and let’s make something—something joyful, something imperfect, something that’s purely yours.

Post-Menopause: Embracing the Transition with Grace (and a Little Dose of Incredulity)

Hello, wonderful readers! Today, I’m diving into one of the more unexpected chapters of my life—a chapter that begins with cancer, weaves through chemo, and somehow ends up with me in the midst of early menopause, trying to make sense of what exactly happened to my body. Spoiler alert: I didn’t even realize I was in menopause until I’d survived 18 months of treatment and was left standing in the aftermath, blinking at a whole new reality.

How Cancer Treatment Masked Menopause

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, it was like being dropped into survival mode. Everything became about getting through the next treatment, the next day, the next moment. My treatment involved neo-adjuvant chemotherapy, multiple surgeries, and radiation—the full works. And during that time, my body was put through the wringer in ways that I was too focused on survival to fully process. There was hair loss, nausea, exhaustion, and let’s not forget the side effects that made me feel like I was living in a perpetual sauna.

It turns out, I was also going through early menopause. But between the chemo and radiation, I didn’t have the bandwidth to tell the difference. Hot flashes? They felt like just another side effect, blending right in with the sweats and flushes that chemo threw my way. I was simply trying to stay alive, holding on for my boys, and if menopause had decided to join the party, well, I didn’t exactly have an RSVP list.

Post-Treatment Realization

It wasn’t until I finished the 18 months of life-saving treatment that the reality of menopause hit me. Suddenly, there was a stillness, a strange sense of “What now?” After months of focusing on fighting for my life, I was left with the quiet realization that my body had changed dramatically. The hot flashes were still there, but now they didn’t come with the label of chemo side effects. The sleep disturbances, mood swings, and bone-deep exhaustion were harder to ignore, no longer hidden beneath the noise of treatment.

But perhaps the biggest revelation came in the form of anxiety. After everything I’d been through, I was left feeling like I was constantly on edge—heart pounding, mind racing. A well-meaning counselor gently suggested that I was likely experiencing anxiety. I remember blinking at her, completely incredulous. “Really? You think?” I replied, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “I just thought I was Type A and highly efficient.”

It turns out, trying to stay alive for my boys had taken its toll. Anxiety had become my default mode, and the idea of adding more medication to my already lengthy regimen didn’t sit well with me. So, I did what I knew best—I started researching, and that’s when I stumbled upon meditation. The idea of finding calm without a prescription was too appealing to pass up, and that simple quest to manage anxiety without medication eventually led me to yoga.

Yoga: My Path Back to Balance

Yoga didn’t come into my life as a graceful calling. It arrived as a lifeline—a way to bring my body and mind back into some kind of balance after months of fighting just to stay alive. It was the start of reconnecting with a body I’d felt disconnected from for far too long.

Breathwork (Pranayama): One of the first things I learned was Nadi Shodhana—alternate nostril breathing. In a world that had felt chaotic and overwhelming, this simple practice brought a sense of control. It didn’t matter if the hot flashes were from menopause or remnants of chemo—what mattered was that I had a way to breathe through them, to find my way back to myself, one breath at a time.

Restorative Yoga Poses: Physically, my body was exhausted. Restorative yoga became my haven—gentle movements that allowed me to honor what my body had been through, rather than push it further. Legs Up the Wall was a nightly ritual, and Child’s Pose reminded me that sometimes, surrender is the strongest thing you can do. I needed rest, not rigor, and yoga gave me permission to take that rest without guilt.

Mantra Meditation: Emotionally, I was still on that rollercoaster—sometimes feeling deep gratitude, other times overwhelmed by the smallest things. Meditation gave me a new tool, and my mantra became “I am enough.” It was a simple statement, but after months of battling cancer and then facing menopause, it was exactly what I needed: a reminder that, in all my imperfection and struggle, I was still enough.

Tips for Embracing the Transition (Especially When You Didn’t See It Coming)

So, if you find yourself thrown into menopause when you least expect it—whether by chemo, life, or some other curveball—here are a few things that helped me find some grace (and humor) in the chaos:

Acknowledge What’s Happening: I spent a long time disconnected from my body, ignoring the signals it was sending me. One of the most powerful things I did was simply acknowledge, “Hey, I’m going through something big here.” Body scan meditations helped me reconnect—taking the time to feel each part of my body, without judgment, and recognizing what I needed.
Breathe Like Your Life Depends on It (Because Sometimes It Feels Like It Does): 4-7-8 breathing became a lifeline when anxiety and hot flashes threatened to take over. Inhale for 4 counts, hold for 7, exhale for 8. It’s amazing how something as simple as breathing can pull you back from the edge.
Rest Without Shame: Restorative yoga taught me that rest is not a luxury—it’s a necessity. Poses like Legs Up the Wall allowed me to let go of the day’s tension, and reminded me that after everything my body had been through, it deserved my care, not my criticism.
Laugh at the Absurdity: Anxiety, menopause, hot flashes—it’s a lot. But finding humor in the absurdity of it all became my saving grace. Like the time I snapped at my well-meaning counselor because, yes, anxiety is kind of inevitable when you’re fighting cancer. Or the countless moments I woke up drenched in sweat and just had to laugh because, honestly, what else can you do?
Embrace the Imperfection: I learned a lot about balance through Tree Pose—sometimes I could hold steady, and other times I wobbled or fell. And that’s okay. Embracing the imperfection, the fact that balance isn’t a destination but an ongoing practice, made all the difference. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about showing up, wobble and all.

Finding Grace, Even in the Unexpected

I wish I could say that early menopause has been a walk in the park, but the truth is, it’s been more like a stumble through unfamiliar terrain. The cancer treatment masked the symptoms, and by the time I realized what was happening, I was already in the thick of it. But through it all—through the anxiety, the sleepless nights, the endless waves of heat—I found moments of grace. I learned to reconnect with my body, to be patient with myself, and to find humor even in the most ridiculous moments.

Cancer forced me into survival mode, and menopause added another layer to that journey. But here I am, navigating it all, one breath, one yoga pose, one laugh at a time. And if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that there is beauty in surviving, in learning to thrive, and in embracing every imperfect part of who we are.

So here’s to the next chapter—whatever it may bring. Here’s to acknowledging the struggle, finding humor where we can, and celebrating the fact that we’re still here, still enough, and still growing.