Category: Feelings & Fire

Feelings & Fire, messy progress, Reflection

When Surviving Feels Like Failing

Mindrah

Life.
Sometimes life just… sucks.

If you’re anything like me, you’ve got a million ideas swirling in your head. You want to do them all. You want them done yesterday. But then life gets in the way.

For me, it was a week of study visits, followed by a week of high-stress assignments and deadlines. It feels like forever since I touched the things I actually wanted to do. Instead of thriving, I’ve just been surviving.

And I hate surviving.

I created Ash & Ember Rising because I didn’t want to just get through life — I wanted to live it. Intentionally. Fully. Passionately. I want to do all the things. Ten-people’s worth of things, if I’m honest. And of course, that’s impossible… but still, I expect it of myself.

Which means sometimes it’s hard to match my wants, my wild expectations, with reality.

What happens when reality wins?

So what do you do when life doesn’t match the plan?
When deadlines eat your days, or stress fogs your brain, or you just can’t do the things you hoped you would?

You could walk away.
You could decide it isn’t worth it.
You could label it failure.

But here’s the truth:

Just because something didn’t happen the way you wanted or expected doesn’t make it worthless.
It doesn’t make you worthless.

It makes you human.

Still here. Still trying.

I didn’t finish everything I wanted. Some things didn’t happen at all. But I’m still here.

Still caring.
Still showing up.
Still trying, even when it’s messy.

And maybe,

sometimes,

that’s enough.

From surviving to rising

Ash & Ember Rising has always been about this: turning the sparks we have left, even when everything feels burnt out, into steps forward.

So if you’re here, tired, behind, feeling like you’ve lost the thread of your own story — know this:

You’re not failing.
You’re still becoming.
And you’re allowed to start again, as many times as it takes.

Because surviving is not the end of your story. It’s just the messy middle. And the ember is still glowing.

Feelings & Fire, Reflection

The Stories We Carry (And Rewrite)

Mindrah

This week I want to talk to you about stories.
Stories we tell ourselves.
And stories other people tell about us.

You see, my family tells a lot of stories about me.
They say I’m fat, and therefore I must be unfit.
They say I never exercise, which reinforces their belief that I don’t care about my health.
They say I never go outside.
They say I don’t care about them.

I don’t share this for sympathy. I share it because it bothers me and because deep down, I know it’s not true.
And yet, hearing the same story enough times can start to plant roots. You begin to wonder: What if they’re right?

But here’s the reality:
I’ve lost over 40kg.
I did that by waking up before dawn, walking most days, and showing up for myself even when it was hard.
I walk outside. I leave the house five days a week for work.
I studied full-time while working full-time because I care deeply about building a better future.
And even when exhausted, I still showed up for my family. I called. I checked in. I listened. I made time.

Imagine if I had listened to their version of my story.
Imagine if I believed them.
Worse, imagine if I started telling myself those same things.

If I had, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be healthier, stronger, halfway through a Master’s degree, or learning how to rebuild when life suddenly veers off course.

This morning, everything feels a bit broken. My plans have unraveled. My path feels uncertain.
But instead of saying, “I can’t do this,” I’ve been drafting a new game plan.
A new story.

And now I’m wondering about you.

What stories are being told about you, by others, or by yourself, that need to be rewritten?
What falsehoods have been repeated so often they started to feel like truth?

Because me? I think you’ve got this.
You’re still becoming.
You’re still growing.

Remember the power of yet.
And write yourself a story worth living in.

Feelings & Fire, Printable Packs

A Day in Your Dreams

Mindrah

Last week, we took the first step.

I shared a bit about how I’ve been crawling my way out of survival mode and starting to ask myself what kind of life I want to live — not someday, but now. Not all of it, not perfectly, but piece by piece.

That post came with a simple journal prompt. Just a quiet invitation to think:
“If I could change things… what would I want to feel?”

And now we’re ready for the next part.

Gentle Next Steps

This time, I wanted to do something a little different — something slower, softer, and maybe a bit dreamy. I made a guided visualisation called A Day in Your Dreams (see below). It’s not about imagining some big, impossible future. It’s just about picturing a day that feels calm and kind — one that feels like you.

You can listen to the video if you’d like to be gently walked through it, or you can explore the printable that goes with it. Some people think better with their eyes closed. Some people like pens and pages. Some of us need both.

Whatever works for you is the right way to start.

About the Printable

The free printable will be shared in this blog once it’s ready (I’m just finalising it now!). It offers space to reflect on one moment at a time — morning, midday, evening — and includes gentle prompts like:

  • What does your space look like?
  • How do you feel as you wake up?
  • What’s one small detail you’d love to bring into real life?

Each section has a little spark of encouragement from one of our Ash & Ember Rising mascots — like Zalyn the Motivation Mermaid, who reminds you that it’s okay to dream boldly and still take your time.

Download the printable

A Day in Your Dreams

What’s Coming Next

In the next blog, we’ll choose one of the moments from your visualised day — maybe your ideal morning routine, or a peaceful workspace, or a little thing that brought joy — and we’ll start to explore how to bring that into your real life.

We’ll go slowly.
We’ll start small.
We’ll do it together.

Because dreaming matters — but doing it gently? That’s where the magic starts.

Let’s Journal It!

Last week I also started to show you what it might look like to start journaling. Here is what today’s post invites you to do next — pause, imagine, and spend a moment inside the version of your life you’re hoping to build.

(coming soon)

Feelings & Fire, Reflection

Choosing Yourself Isn’t Giving Up

Mindrah

Since I first created the Ash & Ember Rising blog, I’ve posted every Monday like clockwork.
But this week Monday came and went… and I didn’t post.
I didn’t plan to skip it. I didn’t battle with it.
I simply… forgot.

Why?

Because life got heavier.

I took on a fuller load at work — just for two weeks, and yes, I can handle it, and yes, it is needed. But it’s more work, which means more stress.
I have three major assignments due at the end of those same two weeks.
And then I got sick.
And I’m tired.
And I’ve been really, truly, just surviving.

The kind of surviving where brushing your teeth feels like a quest.
Where hydration becomes an achievement.
Where your body wants to stop — but your deadlines don’t.

So hello, overwhelm.
And welcome, guilt.

Guilt?
Yep. He showed up loud and dramatic, like always.

Because I missed a blog post.
And the perfectionist in me? The completionist in me?
They’re spiraling.

“This is the end!”
“You failed!”
“You gave up!”
“You didn’t finish the thing — so now it doesn’t count!”

That’s what they think.

But I know better.

Choosing Yourself Isn’t Giving Up

I know that during these two weeks, I’m going to have to choose.
I’m going to have to let things go.
Not because I’m lazy. Not because I’m weak. But because I matter.

And moving past survival — into something resembling stability — means being intentional.
It means choosing what to spend time and energy on.
Because if I try to do it all anyway?

Then I’m not choosing growth.
I’m choosing misery.
And I deserve better than that.

We’re Taught to Burn Ourselves Alive

We are taught — over and over — that we must juggle a hundred things.
Flawlessly.
Without pause.
Even when we’re sick.

But that’s not care. That’s collapse.

Choosing yourself is hard.
It feels rebellious. Shameful. Lazy.
But it’s not.

It’s what lets you keep going.
It’s what lets you come back.

Missing a blog post doesn’t mean my dream is dead.
It just means I’m choosing to live long enough to carry it forward.

A Reminder, For You (and Me)

My dreams will still be there when I feel better.
They’ll still be there when I have time.
They are not made of glass.

That email isn’t going to explode if you don’t answer it today.
Those dishes will still be there tomorrow.
Your work? Will probably thank you for showing up rested, not wrecked.

You don’t have to do it all.

You just have to choose.
Choose your health.
Choose your peace.
Choose you.

Even when it’s hard.
Especially when it’s hard.

Feelings & Fire

A Birthday, A Beginning

Mindrah

I did it.
I celebrated my birthday.
My way.
With intention the whole day through.

Was it perfect?
No.
But it was mine and I chose it.

And when things didn’t go to plan.
I stopped.
I took a breath.
And I asked myself.
How do I want to go forward from here.
I chose on purpose.

This year my birthday didn’t just happen.
And it didn’t pass in a blink of disappointment.

Birthdays can be hard.
For some of us, they come tangled — with grief, hope, reflection, and a strange aching sense that time is both too slow and too fast.

This year I wanted to do my birthday differently. Not with pressure. Not with guilt. But with softness. With understanding. With kindness.

There’s often a strange kind of weight to celebrating yourself. Especially when the world teaches you to earn your milestones, or when old griefs sit close to the surface.

I didn’t want to pretend everything was easy. But I didn’t want to hide from the day either.

I wanted to choose me. I wanted to celebrate my way, for me and not for anyone else.

So, instead of a party, I built myself a small safe space — a blanket fort, a soft playlist, a simple reflection page.
I gave myself permission to exist exactly as I was: messy, hopeful, tired, alive.

I let small joys rule my day — setting out experiences that made my heart lighter.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t magic. But it mattered.

I realized celebration doesn’t always have to look like a fancy dinner, a party or cake.

Sometimes it looks like breathing.

Sometimes it looks like making room for yourself even when it feels awkward.

If you’re carrying complicated feelings about your birthday — or about any day you’re supposed to “celebrate” —you’re not alone.

There’s no wrong way to honor yourself.

Even a small, quiet beginning is still a beginning.

You’re still worth celebrating — exactly as you are.

One small corner of my celebration — a moment chosen just for me.

If you’re looking for a way to celebrate yourself — quietly, kindly — you can find my Birthday Reflection Pack here.

Feelings & Fire, Printable Packs, Reflection

Soft & Sacred: A Gentle Birthday Ritual

Mindrah

“It’s my birthday soon.”
For some, that thought might bring happiness and excitement.
For others — dread.
For me, it brings sadness and loss.

Celebrating my birthday used to be the one thing I fought for — for myself.
It was more than just a celebration of birth.
It was a sacred ritual.
A change of scenery. A chance to breathe.
A day to do something that brought me joy.

But like many things in life, the energy it took to fight — again and again —
and the tiny cracks formed by unmet hopes
eventually wore me down.
We stopped celebrating the way I wanted.
And my birthday became just another day.

And I survived.
For years.

But this year… I woke up.

And when the thought came —
“It’s my birthday soon.”

I decided:
I would celebrate it my way.
Not how I used to.
But in a way that honours who I am now.

So I asked myself — how?

For the first time in years, I don’t have to work on my birthday.
So I thought — why not make a whole day of it?

And as I began to plan, I thought of all the other people in the world
for whom birthdays are difficult.
People who maybe want to celebrate, but don’t know how.
For whom birthdays have become about surviving — or just cake.
But who want more.

I thought of those who want to honour their day
in a gentle, meaningful way.
Of those who want to remember.
To plan. To be intentional.

And so, I made a book.

It’s not a party planner.
It’s a soft space.
A ritual.
A gentle celebration of surviving, of being.
A tool for holding space.

It honours all that I’ve lived through to stand here.
It honours who I am today.
And it looks — with hope — toward who I might yet become.

It looks at the growth, the struggle, the pain and says:
“I see you.”

Maybe in a whisper.
Maybe in a shout.
Maybe alone, in the quiet of my heart.
Maybe among my people.

Either way —
everyone deserves to celebrate in a way that honours them.

That’s why I created space for quiet reflection.
For joyful creation.
For comfort and nurturing.
And a structure that lets me choose.
To design my day in a way that feels right.

And for the first time in years,
I feel excited to celebrate the day of my birth.

With love.
With intention.
In a way that finally,
holds space for me.

So what’s inside the pack?

It’s not a list of party games or decorations.
It’s a collection of printable pages designed to guide you through a full day of gentle self-celebration — or to be used slowly across a week, a month, or whenever you need a reminder that your life is worth honouring.

Some pages are quiet.
Some are playful.
Some are reflective.
Some might stir emotions.
And all of them are built to hold space for you — your feelings, your energy, your rhythms.

There are spaces to:

  • Reflect on the past year — the good, the hard, the quietly powerful moments
  • Honour who you are right now, and how you’ve changed
  • Design a celebration that fits your energy (blanket fort optional, but encouraged)
  • Create your own birthday soundtrack and comfort rituals
  • Write a letter to yourself
  • Choose joy in whatever form it takes — drawing, walking, cake, silence, sparkle
  • And even gently dream about the year ahead

There’s no right way to use this book.
You don’t have to fill every page.
You don’t have to finish it all in one day.
You don’t even have to feel excited to begin.

You just have to show up.
Softly. Gently. Honestly.

Because your birthday — and your life — are worth marking in a way that feels true to you.

And if you don’t know how to begin?
That’s okay too.
I made this so we could begin together.

You can find it on Etsy here.