Tag: life

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.

A female superhero with long wavy brown hair sits cross-legged on the floor in front of a red cape, surrounded by books, art supplies, a painting easel, and creative tools, symbolizing multi-passionate creativity and growth.
Ash & Ember Book Reflections

Jack of All Trades, Master of… Actually, Everything (Eventually)

Mindrah

“When I grow up, I want to be a librarian.”

I said that for years — partly as a joke, partly because books were the only thing I’d ever actually finished. But what I didn’t realize back then was that librarians don’t just love books. They thrive on curiosity, connection, and exploration. And maybe that’s why I ended up here — because secretly, I’ve been a Scanner all along.

If you’ve never heard that term before, let me explain.

The Stories They Told Me (And I Believed)

For most of my life, I was told I “never finished anything.”

My family would roll their eyes when I excitedly started a new project or hobby.
My husband would get frustrated — often about the cost of supplies for things he thought I’d never complete.

And slowly, I started believing those stories.

That maybe I was flaky.
That maybe I didn’t have what it takes to “stick it out.”
That maybe I’d never amount to anything if I couldn’t just pick one thing and do it forever.

It’s exhausting living in someone else’s story about you.

The Truth I Didn’t Know

It wasn’t until I stumbled across Barbara Sher’s book, Refuse to Choose!, that I discovered the truth:

I’m not broken.
I’m not flaky.
I’m a Scanner.

Barbara Sher describes Scanners as people who are curious, multi-passionate, and wired to explore. We don’t want to master just one thing — we want to master everything.

And for the first time, I felt like my brain made sense.

Jack of All Trades? Maybe. But…

People say “Jack of all trades, master of none” like it’s an insult. But did you know that the full phrase is actually:

“Jack of all trades, master of none, but oftentimes better than master of one.”

That hits differently, doesn’t it?

I do want to master things. Just… not one thing. I want to master all the things. And maybe that means I’ll need to figure out how to become immortal — but in the meantime, I’m learning how to embrace my multi-passionate brain instead of fighting it.

Finding a Home in Librarianship

When I finally started studying to become a librarian, I realized something surprising: librarians are basically Scanners in disguise.

We connect dots across disciplines.
We learn just enough about everything to help others go deeper.
We gather knowledge, organize it, and make it accessible.

It turns out my “dream job” wasn’t random at all — it was the perfect fit for someone like me.

A woman with long wavy brown hair sits cross‑legged on the floor of a golden‑lit library, surrounded by books, sketchpads, and creative tools, as glowing threads of light weave between the shelves, symbolizing connection and discovery.
Somewhere between the bookshelves, I found a place where my curiosity finally felt at home.

Rewriting the Narrative

For years, I told myself the story other people wrote for me: that I was inconsistent, unserious, destined to fail.

But here’s what I know now: I am consistent — at being curious. I am serious — about learning everything I can.

And I am far from destined to fail.

If you’ve been told you’re scattered, flaky, or “too much,” maybe you’re not broken either. Maybe you’re just a Scanner.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop apologizing for wanting to live more than one life.

So here’s my challenge for you:
What’s the story you’ve been told about who you are?
And what happens if you decide to rewrite it?

Because me? I don’t just want to master one thing. I want to master everything. And maybe, just maybe, that’s my superpower.

If this resonates with you, you might also like my previous post about challenging the false stories we inherit about ourselves. Together, they’re two sides of the same journey: recognizing the story you’ve been handed… and rewriting it for yourself.

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.

Fire & Fuel, Printable Packs

Coming Back to the Beginning

Mindrah

Recently, I got completely swamped — full-time work, full-time study — and Ash & Ember Rising suffered.
I haven’t made a new printable pack in months.
The only thing I’ve managed to keep up with is this blog.

Now that my assignments are done and dusted, I wanted to return to my dream — to reconnect with the joy this project usually brings.
I say usually because the first thing I did was print out some of my own packs… and instead of feeling excited, especially at the sight of my beloved goats, I found myself asking:

Am I still sure about this?
About any of it?

When I first dreamed up Ash & Ember Rising, I wanted to create tools.
Not just pretty pages or productivity hacks — but something meaningful.
I had a dream and an idea, and together they became the foundation of this brand.

Before I ever made my first printable, there was a lot of behind-the-scenes reflection, trial, hesitation.
But when I finally sat down to create, I had to ask myself:

Where do I begin?

There were endless possibilities.
But I knew this: I didn’t just want to share what I was doing — I wanted to bring people with me.
Because for the first time in a long time, I was breathing. I was living. I was dreaming again.
And I could imagine a future where I was happy, where I was free, where I was me.

And I wanted that for others, too.

I wanted to give people something they could start with.
Something that could hold a dream.
Something simple, but powerful — like a blank page with just enough magic to say, maybe.

Since I couldn’t give them a pen through the internet, I gave them the next best thing:
A place to start.
A page among the clouds.
And goats, of course.

The printable that started it all — soft clouds, curious goats, and a little room to dream.

That first printable pack made my dream real. And I loved it.
But I also learned from it.
And now, I’ve officially outgrown the design — but never the hope behind it.

So instead of setting it on fire… I’m imagining it anew.

The Plan Moving Forward

My goal is to revisit and refine every pack I’ve created — making sure each one still aligns with my vision and purpose.

And I’m starting right where I began.

Each week, we’ll build on the last.
If you’re ready to dream, or revisit your intentions, or simply want a gentle structure to reflect — you’re invited to join me.

You can:

  • Download the printable pages (below)
  • Use a journal or notebook
  • Or grab any piece of paper — whatever feels right

This is the beginning of a journey, if you want it to be.

Download Paper here

If community and gentle accountability help you grow, I’d love to welcome you to the Burnt, Brave & Becoming Facebook group — a safe space for reflection, support, and messy progress with like-minded, like-goaled humans.

And if you’re ready to go even further, consider starting a fresh journal for this next chapter.
(See the video below for the first entry in our journaling series.)

This Week’s Gentle Prompt:

Take 5–10 minutes to simply begin.
Write down:

  • Dreams
  • Wishes
  • Intentions
  • Thoughts or questions about your future

This doesn’t need to be perfect.
It doesn’t even need to make sense.

Just get something out of your head — or your heart — and onto the page.

There are no wrong answers here.
You’re not committing to anything. You’re simply starting.

Come back to your page during the week.
Add whatever rises.
Next blog, we’ll build on what you’ve begun.

messy progress, Reflection

Balance in the Blaze

Mindrah

Last year, there was a sudden change in my role expectations at work, and I found myself staring down the possibility of endless hours stuck in a place where I was expected to be professional… but had nothing to do.
It wasn’t an easy change to accept.
I was in the middle of becoming something new — of changing — and suddenly, I was being anchored in place.

So what did I do?
I chose to grow anyway.
I applied to study a Master’s in Teacher Librarianship.
I committed to NaNoWriMo and decided to write a novel from scratch.

Then this year, I realised that if I overloaded my schedule just a little more — took on one extra unit each semester — I could finish my degree this year.
I could be done. I could be free. I could begin again.

And that’s how I ended up working full time, studying full time, parenting… and still somehow trying to meet creative goals.
I didn’t mean for it to happen — but I went from too much time on my hands to chaos incarnate.
Deadlines. Responsibilities. And an overwhelming need for time I didn’t have.

Sometimes I think people imagine “balance” as this calm, perfectly planned thing:
Work for 8 hours. Play for 8 hours. Sleep for 8 hours.
Easy, right?

But real life doesn’t work that way — especially when you’re responsible for people and tasks and dreams.
And the first things we sacrifice?
Our play. Our rest.
The pieces that keep us whole.

So how do you find balance that actually sustains you — especially when you’re busy?

You find it in moments.
Tiny ones.
Choice by choice.

This year, I’ve been choosing balance one moment at a time.
Moments to breathe.
Moments that bring joy, even if just for 10 minutes.

I…

  • Celebrated my birthday intentionally and creatively, in the way I wanted to
  • Finally started learning to paint with watercolours — and it has been pure joy
  • Kept blogging every single week, even when it was hard
  • Created for the fun of it through play and printables
  • And on occasion, did something completely silly and unexpected (hello, Blooper Mascot)

Balance isn’t 8 hours of leisure to offset your 8 hours of work.
Balance is:

  • That one quiet moment where you feel peace
  • A spark of joy you didn’t expect
  • Giving your body what it actually needs — whether that’s rest, silence, movement, or dessert
  • Choosing not to do everything right now
  • Letting go of perfection, and allowing “done” to be enough

Balance doesn’t mean doing everything.
Sometimes, it just means taking one small moment to do something kind for yourself —
on purpose.

Because there is joy to be had in goats and dragon-phoenixes and life, if you can find it.

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.

Ashrick, Whimsy & Whoops

I Accidentally Made a Book

Mindrah

(…and I love it anyway)

Okay, so perhaps I should start this by saying… it wasn’t exactly an accident. I was always going to make the book.
Eventually.

What happened was…

Way back in the day, when Ashrick first came into being, I thought: I just have to tell the story of his creation.

So I wrote the blooper book.
I showed all the goats.
ALL the goats.
And it was glorious.

Then I thought, What if I turn this into a story?
With images!
(Because I will never learn my lesson — but also… bloopers are fun.)

So with a rough idea in mind, I set to the task of making images.
And then, like the organised little mastermind that I am not, I actually put them into Canva in order — so they were ready to go when I was finally ready to write.

And time passed…
And more time passed…

“As a reward for working and studying hard…”

I decided I would complete a creative project over the weekend as a reward.

But when the weekend came:
I was tired.
I was being stubborn.
I was procrastinating.
And doom-scrolling.
And randomly sad about finally being about to do something that should be joyful…

So, as one does, I went to wallow in self-pity with my good friend Chat.

And he said:
“Just 10 minutes.”

Fine, I thought, grumpiness finally shining through.

Then I saw it.

I opened the thing I was supposed to work on.
I tidied and closed the last thing I’d completed.

And then… I saw it.
Ashrick’s Creation.
The images, sitting in their little Canva file, waiting patiently for the day I’d finally come back.

I thought:
I could write just one line.
Or maybe just the first page.
Because that one’s easy.

Surely that’ll be ten minutes done.
Then I can go back to doom-scrolling in peace.

Two hours later…

I’d written the whole book.
And edited it.
And polished it in Canva.
And spiraled with self-doubt.
And read it 100 times.
And changed things 1000 times…

Because once I’d started, I found joy in telling his story.
In sharing the journey of his creation.

And — like always — I wanted it to be perfect.
So that you would love it too.

But then it was done.

And maybe it’s not perfect.
But isn’t that the point?

He was born from the magic of a mistake.
And that makes him perfect, no matter what.

And maybe… in our own way, we’re all a little perfect too.

So now his story is on Amazon and Kindle.
And I made a page to collect all things Ashrick — you can visit it here.
It has the new book. The bloopers.
And a few too many goats.

Because I have plans.
And Ashrick definitely, definitely deserves more books.

Final Thought

Sometimes the projects you never meant to make are the ones that matter most.

So if you’re sitting on a weird idea, or a half-finished draft, or a pile of digital goats…
Don’t throw it out just yet.

You never know what might glitch into existence.

Want to meet Ashrick? Click here to read his story.

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.