Today was one of those slow, meandering days, the kind where you don’t rush for anything and just let the hours unfold.
My friend and I started the morning at IKEA, of all places. Brunch and browsing. Familiar comfort. The scent of cinnamon rolls and freshly brewed coffee. Then we walked around Willen Lake, letting our conversation drift as gently as the water beside us. Eventually, we ended up outside Tim Hortons, sitting in the sunshine, she sipping a mocha while we chatted about everything and nothing.
It felt good to be out again. I’ve been staying indoors for days, the heatwave and perimenopause have made it nearly unbearable. My body doesn’t regulate like it used to. The simplest things feel heavy in this heat.
So, after a few hours of moving and socialising, my body spoke up. And I listened. I asked her to drop me home. I needed to be still again.
Later, I curled up and watched old Bollywood films, ones I adored as a child. They brought me back to simpler times. Nostalgic in that aching, beautiful way. I could hear my mum in the background of my memories, cooking in the kitchen, humming along to the songs I now know by heart.
And just like that, the loneliness found its way in again.
Not all at once, just slowly, like it always does.
It reminded me of something my mum used to say: “What are you going to do with yourself when Khushi grows up and you’re all alone?”
Back then, I’d laugh it off. “I’ll finally do all the things I’ve been putting on hold,” I’d say.
But now… I get it.
Khushi’s growing.
The house feels quieter.
And I’ve been single for over 22 years.
Sometimes, I feel the ache so deeply I could cry without warning.
Not just for a partner, but for love. For the softness of being held. For the kind of love you feel when you’re young and everything feels possible. The butterflies. The giddy late-night phone calls. The way your whole world glows just because someone sees you.
That version of me feels far away now. And sometimes, I wonder if she’s gone for good.
But then… I remember what I can choose.
Another thought I’ve been sitting with:
I want to make everything around me beautiful.
Not just with cushions and candles and playlists on loop.
But with presence. With how I speak life into broken moments.
With how I help others feel safe in my company.
I want my life to feel like peace.
A gentle hush in a world that shouts.
Not perfect. Not loud.
But deeply felt.
Like home.
I want to be someone who turns silence into sanctuary.
Who chooses joy, even when it’s trembling.
Who forgives, even through tears.
Who softens, even when the world tells her to harden.
Because I might not have the perfect love story,
Not yet.
But I can have a soul that glows.
A spirit that heals.
A presence that brings light into even the loneliest corners.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s the greatest love story of all.
I came across a reel yesterday by Reem Alsayegh, her words struck me: “Being a strong, independent woman can make relationships difficult.” It felt like a mirror, a soft truth wrapped in resilience. That line settled in my chest, reminding me that strength and longing can coexist.
Watching it felt like permission to hold both parts of myself: the capable woman who’s built her life alone, and the tender-hearted woman who still craves companionship and deep emotional connection. It fit so seamlessly with that thought I shared earlier about choosing gentleness, presence and softness, even when love as we imagined it feels out of reach.
Your life doesn’t have to look the way others expect. You can forge both your inner sanctuary and still hope for a deeper connection.
Feeling a bit lost in the noise? You don’t need to figure it all out on your own. My Daily Chat Support is your gentle check-in, your sounding board, your safe place to land. For the days you’re navigating big feelings, small wins, or just need someone to say, “I see you.” Midlife isn’t meant to be walked alone. Let’s walk it together x
