From the time my husband and I started dating, his professional path was something that I took honest consideration about, among other things. Not to be a brat, but as someone who was a student nurse myself once upon a time, I was intimately familiar with the curriculum, it’s demands and assumed (correctly) that students who study medicine had little time for much else.

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Do you guys argue?

I get this question a LOT. Partly due to the fact anyone who knows my husband or has been in any proximity to him knows his general demeanour and disposition. Of course, people who know mine are a little more sceptical that the answer to the question would be ‘no’, but even then sometimes, it proves hard for others to overlook my husband almost unbothered approach to most things. They still wonder if I ‘mellow out’ with him.

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Going into marriage can be a scary thing. It’s life changing, after all. After signing those papers, you can never go back to being spinsters or bachelors if it doesn’t work out. Now, you’re divorcees. Most of us want to do it right the first time, and while my own marriage is still a fledgling in the grand scheme of things, I’d say I’ve learned a lot and and we’ve done pretty alright.

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Her face scrunched as she expelled all the contents of her lungs. Her mouth wide, tears in her eyes, and the hanging, pink epiglottis danced violently at the back of her throat. Her stance said she was ready for war, but my mind said I was too as it raged and raced at the child before me. I understood her position, but I thought it no excuse. My temper flared. Hers sprouted wings and soared.

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I posted a video on my Instagram teasing about a possible pregnancy some weeks ago. After a flurry of messages in my inbox, I came clean. I wasn’t (am not) pregnant at all. I’m under some duress from baby fever, but no, not pregnant.

Then ladies wanted to know why I looked like I was. My belly was still larger than a food baby. At one point during the day, my sister almost freaked out at how fast My abdomen was distending.

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Hey there! I know I’ve been off the radar on my blog, but I’m just busy. I keep saying I should wait until I no longer am, but in all honesty, there’s not really an end in sight for that. Between my (almost) two year old putting me to work, general wifely (adulting) duties, working on the book (the book may be finished but the work isn’t) and a list of client projects stretching into October as of now, please believe me when I say, I can’t even remember if I’m wearing underwear today.

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This blog post is a mite different from anything I’ve shared on here. It’s darker, a piece of me I still actively sometimes struggle with. The other day I mentioned the effect a past experience had on me to a friend. She asked me a crucial question, during our conversation and I truly wanted to laugh. Not that the experience or the question was in any way humorous. It’s just that the question highlighted how little value the Jamaican culture places on mental health and well being. As a whole, the average Jamaican isn’t counselled following a traumatic experience. We simply ‘move on’ or learn to cope. Invariably, some of us better than others. (more…)