the ward method

Tag: healing

  • I love Sunday’s omg.

    I love Sunday’s omg.

    I’ve always loved Sundays.

    Maybe it started when I was a kid, those sweet, simple Sundays with my family, getting ice-cream and going for long drives with the windows down and no real destination. It was the kind of day where nothing was rushed and everything just felt good. It’s funny how those small rituals become the ones you carry with you forever.

    Now that I’m older, Sundays still feel sacred. But they look a little different.

    They start with a yoga class in the morning, nothing crazy. Maybe I’ll grab a matcha or a smoothie afterwards, something that feels nourishing. And then, I head home, hop on the couch with a book, and just be for a while. No pressure. No notifications. Just sunshine pouring through the windows and a quiet blue sky above.

    It’s the kind of peace you can’t fake.

    Sometimes, I’ll throw on a face mask, scroll through Netflix until I land on some chaotic reality TV (you know the type), and let myself fully vibe out. Not because I’m avoiding the world, but because I need to check in with myself before stepping back into it.

    And that’s the thing. Alone time isn’t loneliness. It’s an act of care. A gentle pause. A reset.

    In a world that glorifies productivity, choosing to slow down, choosing yourself, is powerful. It’s not selfish. It’s essential.

    Because when we give ourselves space to rest, to breathe, to just exist without the pressure to perform…we come back stronger. Softer. More grounded. More ourselves.

    So if you’ve been craving some quiet, take it. Romanticize it. Protect it. Whether it’s a Sunday or a random Wednesday night, carve out time to just be with you.

    Trust me, you’re good company.

  • Learning to love the in-between.

    Learning to love the in-between.

    There’s this weird space you land in after a long-term relationship ends.

    You’re not who you used to be.
    You’re not quite who you’re becoming.
    And honestly? It’s awkward. Uncomfortable. Quiet in a way that sometimes feels deafening.

    After a breakup, especially one that took up years of your life, it’s easy to feel like you’ve lost your person and your place. Your routines change. Your weekends feel empty. Your phone is quieter. Your bed feels too big.

    But I’m learning that this space, the space between where I’ve been and where I’m going, matters.

    It’s where the healing lives.
    It’s where the growth begins.
    It’s where you meet yourself again.

    There are days it feels lonely, yes. But being alone doesn’t mean you’re failing. It doesn’t mean you’re unwanted. It means you’re finally choosing yourself, maybe for the first time in a long time.

    And that’s brave as hell.

    I’ve had to remind myself that I don’t need to rush into something new just to avoid the discomfort.
    I don’t need to fill every silence.
    I don’t need to be “over it” in 30 days or less.

    Some mornings I wake up and feel peace for the first time in months. Other days, I want to text them just to feel a little less distant from what I lost. Both realities are valid. Healing isn’t linear.

    What’s helping me now is learning to enjoy the in-between.

    Taking myself out for coffee.
    Going to the beach with no one to impress.
    Laying in bed with my digital camera beside me, my favorite playlist on, and no plans.
    Making space for the quiet, even if it feels awkward.
    Letting this season soften me instead of harden me.

    Because one day, this version of me, the one that’s growing in solitude, figuring it out alone, will be the version I thank.

    So if you’re in the in-between too, take a breath. You’re not behind.
    You’re not broken.
    You’re just rebuilding.

    And maybe this chapter, as uncomfortable as it is, will be the one that finally brings you home to yourself.

  • Crying in the car counts as self-care, right?

    Crying in the car counts as self-care, right?

    I’ve been known (by myself) to cope with a bad week by blasting Justin Bieber’s Journals and crying in my car like I’m the main character of a very dramatic indie film that got bad reviews but still has a cult following.

    And honestly? 10/10 recommend.

    Some people vent to their friends. Some people go for a run. Me? I put on a hoodie, throw on sunglasses (even if it’s cloudy), and sip my iced coffee like it’s a prescription. That’s my emotional support beverage, your honour. The Vida barista doesn’t know she’s part of my healing journey, but she is.

    Humour has always been my favourite coping tool. If I can laugh about it, even a little, it doesn’t feel quite as heavy. I’ll lay on the couch and watch an Adam Sandler movie (highly recommend), or turn a full-on meltdown into a funny story I tell my podcast listeners. It’s not about ignoring how I feel, it’s about softening the edges. Giving myself a way to breathe through the mess. Sometimes you’ve got to make the mental breakdown artsy.

    Here are a few very real, very unhinged ways I romanticize a bad week:

    • Wearing an oversized hoodie, cycle shorts and pairing it with my reading glasses like I’m in hiding from the paparazzi (even though I’m just avoiding small talk at the grocery store).
    • Driving down to the beach with my digital camera and Kelsea Ballerini on repeat like I’m filming a breakup montage, except the only person I’m breaking up with is burnout.
    • Sitting in my car, seat fully reclined, watching the waves and pretending the ocean is giving me a TED Talk about how everything is going to be okay.
    • Ordering pizza for one, pouring a glass of red wine and telling myself I’m on a solo date.
    • Crying dramatically in the shower with Charli XCX playing. Peak cinema.

    The truth is: life gets weird. Days get hard. But finding little ways to comfort myself, to laugh, to feel cozy, to make it all feel a little softer? That’s become one of the kindest things I do for me.

    So if your week’s been trash and you just feel over it, here’s your reminder: your healing can be messy, funny, dramatic, and full of iced coffee. That doesn’t make it any less valid. You’re still growing. Still trying. Still doing your best.

    And if you need me, I’ll be parked by the beach, blasting sad songs and pretending the sunset is clapping for me.