Lotz of thoughts

 I was standing just offstage, moments before dancing my solo. My teacher introduced me—not just with my name, but with a few words that caught me completely off guard. She spoke about my journey, my efforts, and how I kept dancing while being a mother of two, a full-time professional, and a woman spinning many plates. And suddenly, something in me softened. I don’t dance for applause. I don’t show up at rehearsals, exhausted after a long day, for recognition. I do it for the joy, the grounding, and the sense of self it gives me. And yet… it mattered. Her words mattered. Being seen mattered. Why does it matter when others recognise our efforts? Why do we care, even when we tell ourselves we don’t need it? Maybe it’s because so much of what we do as women—especially as mothers, professionals, caretakers, and silent warriors—goes unnoticed. We keep it together, we hold it all, we show up, and we often do it quietly. There’s a strange pride in being “low-maintenance,” in not asking fo...

I am not the biggest fan of Marvel movies. The explosions, the superpowers, the endless battles—it’s just not really my thing. But my sons and husband love them, so there I was, curled up on the movie chair next to them, watching Fantastic Four . Somewhere between the portal malfunction and the formation of yet another superhero team, I found myself surprisingly drawn in. Not by the action, but by the metaphor. Because each character doesn’t just gain a power—they struggle with it. They don’t wake up thrilled about their new selves. They are confused, isolated, scared. Sound familiar? It does to me. I have been going through a phase lately. A quiet one. One where I don’t quite believe in myself. I know the checklist of what I have done, what I am doing, who I am. But somehow, self-belief slips through the cracks when I am tired, when I feel like I am not doing enough, or when I compare myself to some version of what I should be by now. And that’s when Fantastic Four hit differently...