Posted on by shirindawna

normal girls are boring.

i’ve noticed something about myself. i hold off on writing about health scares until there’s some kind of ending. some neat resolution to wrap it all up in a bow. it’s easier that way, isn’t it? you wait until the answers come, tuck the panic into a little box, and move on with your life. today, i don’t have that luxury. there’s no bow, no resolution. this week has been brutal. we’re stuck in the gut-wrenching space where everything is just…uncertain. everything is a question, and every answer feels like smoke slipping through your fingers. “it might be nothing, but it could be something.” and this time, it’s not me in the hot seat. it’s him. my husband.

people keep saying, “don’t worry, it’s probably fine.” i know they mean well, and maybe they’re right (oh please, let them be right). but i’ve heard those words before. they said it about my dad, and it wasn’t fine. they said it about me, and it wasn’t fine then, either.

so, here i am, stuck in this messy middle, the space between hope and fear, where every second feels heavier than the last. my mind’s racing, and i’m rationing my energy like it’s the last bit of air in the room. i’m careful, so careful, about who i let in. i know one wrong word could send me spiraling, and i can’t afford that right now.

i hate this part. the uncertainty. the waiting. all of it. 

Posted on by shirindawna

fearless in pursuit of my pen.

leaving the corporate world wasn’t part of my plan. it wasn’t a carefully calculated career move or a strategic pivot. it was a leap of faith, a decision born out of a deep longing for something more meaningful in life.

for years, i navigated the intricacies of the corporate environment, meetings that seemed to go nowhere, endless email chains, and office politics that often left me feeling drained. don’t get me wrong; i learned valuable skills and met incredible people along the way. but somewhere along the line, i started to feel like i was losing myself in the hustle and bustle of it all.

the tipping point came when i realized that my work was no longer fulfilling. the paycheck was nice, of course, but it wasn’t enough to sustain my happiness. i craved a sense of purpose, a deeper connection to my work and its impact on the world around me.

leaving secular work was a daunting decision. there were moments of doubt and uncertainty. would i regret walking away from the stability and routine of corporate life?

but those fears were outweighed by a profound sense of relief. stepping away from the corporate world felt like shedding a heavy coat i had been carrying for far too long. suddenly, i had the freedom to explore new passions, to reconnect with neglected interests, and to prioritize my well-being.

now, looking back on those initial moments of transition, i can confidently say that leaving was the best decision i could have made. i rediscovered the joy of simplicity, of spending time with loved ones, of pursuing hobbies that truly ignite my soul, of savoring quiet moments of reflection.

gone are the days of navigating office politics and striving to meet arbitrary metrics. instead, i focus on projects that align with my values and contribute to causes i believe in. whether it’s freelance work, creative pursuits, or simply taking time to recharge, each day feels like a step closer to living authentically.

leaving secular work has taught me valuable lessons about resilience and courage. it’s shown me that happiness isn’t found in climbing a corporate ladder or accumulating wealth, but in aligning your life with what truly matters to you.

initially, i had hang-ups about relying on someone else for financial support. i feared losing my sense of independence and self-sufficiency. but over time, i’ve come to see it differently. our partnership is about mutual support and shared goals, where we complement each other’s strengths and aspirations. it’s not about dependency but about building a life together that prioritizes happiness and fulfillment over societal expectations of success.

if you’re considering a similar path, whether by choice or circumstance, i encourage you to listen to that inner voice urging you toward change. embrace the unknown, trust in your abilities, and have faith that life has a way of unfolding in unexpected, beautiful ways.

as i continue on this journey of self-discovery and growth, i am grateful for the opportunity to redefine success on my own terms. leaving the corporate world wasn’t part of my plan, but it has led me to a place of genuine happiness and fulfillment. and for that, i am profoundly grateful.

Posted on by shirindawna

marriage has a nice ring to it.

once upon a time (like, 10 months ago), i was hanging out in a local coffee shop with my good friend.

she asked the dreamy blue-eyed boy next to me about his beverage.

he said something snarky.

i was intrigued.

four hours after talking non-stop and annoying everyone in the coffee shop (including my friend), he left with my phone number.

and now…

Posted on by shirindawna · 2 Comments

good grief.

it’s been almost three years since my dad’s death, and most days, i’m happy.

truthfully, i’m undoubtedly happier than i’ve ever been…which makes my next admission seem a bit ridiculous. in light of my ‘happier than ever before’ feelings, (there might a boy involved..a dream of a boy, in fact – one that i had hoped existed, and am beyond grateful to discover truly does), there also exists a slight melancholy. it’s dim, it doesn’t take away from the magic of what I’m feeling right now (which is so sickeningly sweet…)

it seems so silly: wanting more when i already have exactly what i want. and have wanted. which leads to (inevitable) feelings of guilt. i am so fortunate. in SO many ways…and still, this one thing – bigger than words – is always missing.

i accepted my new normal years ago and love my life and i do my best to live it for what it is. and it’s pretty amazing.

…and yet there are still moments when i break down crying (or want to), and there are times when i want to scream about how unfair it all is.

being used to something doesn’t mean it’s always easy. and those who love me understand these moments may forever be a part of who i am.

most of the time i just miss him. i don’t feel sad or unhappy, i just feel a void. i picked up a postcard on my last international adventure and said “i’ll send this one to my dad.” the thought was out of my mouth before i was able to process and subsequently, stop it.

i sheepishly set the postcard down…

my dad is still the first person i want to call when i gaze at the moon or see a sky full of stars. he’s the one i want to talk to when i meet someone i can imagine spending my life with… my dad is the person i want to complain to when my brother and i bicker (his fault, naturally).

suffice to say, he is missed.

now, my dad wasn’t a perfect man.
he was awful at giving straight answers.
he applied the laws of physics to practically everything.
i am pretty sure there are places where his photo is up…and not in an honorary/good way, but because if he walks in, someone is supposed to alert security immediately.

no, he wasn’t perfect. he raised his voice from time to time (never at me); he got annoyed when i played with glitter (because it ended up everywhere); he didn’t get me a barbie dream house (the largest tragedy of my childhood existence). there was advice he gave that i probably didn’t need, and other advice that i wish he had shared…

so, he wasn’t a perfect man. so what?

for me, he was the perfect dad, and there’s nothing i wish he’d done any differently expect perhaps linger a little longer on this side.

i remember him imperfectly and completely.

…because it gives me hope. maybe someday someone will remember me the same way i remember my dad?
perfect in his imperfections.

as my third year without baba rolls around, i realize i will probably always miss him.
and even more around the holidays…

i’m learning that grief is ongoing. i may never stop grieving over the loss of my pop-sicle because i continue to love him. acknowledging that is somehow validating. and i’m accepting that there will still be moments amidst the happiest times in my world when the memories and the tears come.

grief knows no depth. as an emotion, it is perfect ~ if you’re bold enough to describe perfection in this light – i am. to some that may sound morbid. or even, depressing. but those of us that know this “perfect sorrow” understand.

you are perfectly, exquisitely sad when you grieve over the loss of someone close to you.

grief, sorrow, and sadness are like any other emotion; you feel it, you let it move through you, then it moves on and out of you.

the burden of feeling a certain way, because it’s more comfortable for others, is just too enormous for me. so i let myself feel whatever it is i’m experiencing without any resistance.

the good news is: allowing yourself this freedom to feel without resistance, allows you to feel the profound joy that is the other side of grief. that’s just how the equation works. the memories of joy and grief go hand in hand.

…that silver lining, it’s always there.

and maybe you didn’t get the barbie dream house because you’re lucky enough to live the dream in real life…