Living with Lindsay

There are certain relationships in life that are simply woven into your story from the beginning. You don’t choose them, and yet somehow, they become the most important ones you’ll ever have. That’s how I feel about my sisters. They are the thread that runs through every chapter of my life, sometimes tangled, sometimes stretched, but never broken. Friendships, as wonderful and meaningful as they can be, often have an expiry date. People change, circumstances shift, priorities evolve. Sometimes you outgrow each other quietly, and other times you’re painfully torn apart. Friends come and go with the seasons, and that’s okay. But sisters? Sisters are forever. Sisters don’t just witness your growth, they grow with you. Or, at the very least, they sit with you through your growing pains. They give you the space to become who you are, without needing you to explain who you were. I have two sisters. Both so different, and yet both have shaped me in ways I’ll spend a lifetime being grateful fo...

I’ve never been  called  an oversharer, at least, not to my face. But I sometimes wonder if that’s what people think. You know, when I post something raw, vulnerable, emotional, when I speak openly about my heartache, or the moments I felt completely lost. Maybe someone, somewhere, scrolls past and thinks, “That’s a lot to post online.” And to them, I’d say this:  Yes. It is a lot. Because life is a lot. And if my story helps even one person feel less alone in this messy, complicated world, then every word was worth sharing. I Share for the Memories… and the Meaning I’ve always shared my life online not for attention, but for connection. For documentation. For the memories. I want to remember the moments I’m proud of, the milestones, the laughter, the warmth of everyday life. I want to be able to scroll back and see how far I’ve come. I share my children, because they’re my greatest achievement. I share my home, because I built something that feels safe and strong. I shar...

There’s a funny thing about being a woman in your thirties. You grow up thinking it will all make sense by now. That your thirties are where the pieces come together, the chaos settles, and you finally arrive . But if you're anything like me- and so many of us- you’ve realised the truth is quieter, more complicated, and far more beautiful than anyone ever warned you. Some of the biggest wins in your thirties come with no applause. Letting go of a person, a dream, or a timeline that no longer fits doesn’t always look like a crisis- it can look like getting out of bed when your heart is heavy. It can look like cooking for one, deleting the number, unfollowing someone who once meant the world, or finally learning to say "no" without guilt. These moments rarely make it onto Instagram, but they matter. Deeply. In a world that constantly tells us where we “should” be by now- married, with children, climbing the ladder, owning property- it’s easy to feel behind. You scroll and...

There’s this persistent lie that women have been told- that we have to choose. That we can be either a good mother or a career woman. That we can succeed at home or succeed at work. That motherhood should clip our wings instead of giving us new ones. I used to think that once you had children, you had to stop chasing your dreams. That your world was meant to shrink- to revolve only around bottles, routines, and nursery runs. But I’ve learned that motherhood doesn’t mean the end of your identity. In fact, it’s where mine was redefined. I’ve lived through that lie- felt the shame of wanting more, the guilt of not doing enough, the exhaustion of trying to do everything. I’ve cried in the car, broken down in the shower, smiled through tears, and still got up the next day to keep going. I’ve faced heartache, trauma, loneliness, and immense pressure. But I never gave up. Because I had a dream, and because I had children who depended on me- not just to survive, but to show them what’s pos...

The last time I wrote here, I was navigating life as a new mother, learning how to balance my identity with the needs of my children, my career, and my relationships. I felt stretched in every direction- but I also felt secure. I thought I knew who I was building a future with. I thought I knew what came next. I  thought I knew what my future looked like. But nearly a year ago, my world was turned upside down. And now, nearly a year later, I feel ready to tell the story of how my world fell apart- and how I’ve slowly begun to rebuild it. The Beginning of the End There wasn’t one single moment that ended it all- more a slow, silent unraveling that started with a gut instinct I couldn’t shake. In the weeks leading up to what was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life, things started to feel…off. The man I loved became distant. Cold. He disappeared at strange hours, offered no real answers, and moved through life like I wasn’t even there. The more I tried to hold things to...