Love, Loss & Little Wins: Month Five on Replay

Some seasons feel like lifetimes. And these past five months? They’ve held enough love, heartbreak, change, and quiet triumphs to last a year. This is my little pause—to breathe, remember, and write it all down. Because even when life feels like too much, writing it down makes it just enough.

Here’s my heart, month by month.

We welcomed 2025 with presence. Mama was here with me in the UK—her first time experiencing a cold British January—and we celebrated Jan’s birthday together in our little trio. The simplicity of being together made the start of the year feel complete. Sometimes, the softest beginnings are the most powerful.

Valentine’s Day was spent in Liverpool, not in a fancy restaurant, but with Mama by my side. We wandered through the windy streets, hand in hand, snapping photos and collecting moments. There’s a different kind of love in those quiet adventures—a mother’s companionship, steady and warm, even in a foreign city.

This month was a turning point. I dove deep into my Health Assessment module at university, all while work was demanding more than ever. And then—the worst kind of news. My dear cousin was diagnosed with cancer. The world blurred for a while. Grief began creeping in long before goodbye, and I held my breath through every update. But even in heaviness, I studied, I worked, I carried on. Because life doesn’t stop. It shifts.

If March shook me, April moved me. I made the spontaneous decision to fly back home soon—I needed to. My heart couldn’t wait. In the middle of juggling work, university, and emotional exhaustion, something else happened too: I published my book. Mind the Bedpan officially went out into the world. And that moment, even in the storm, gave me purpose.

I also toured my mama around London and Wales. Seeing her wide-eyed wonder at Big Ben and the beauty of Wales was a gift I didn’t know I needed. It reminded me that even in chaos, there’s still room for awe.

Plans for my author life began multiplying—new book drafts, merch ideas, even a vlog. Creativity bloomed where grief had left cracks.

I lost my cousin on my brother’s birthday. And nothing felt real after that.

I’m still working, still preparing for my OSCE, still packing for my long-distance trip home. I wake up each day and remind myself to show up, even when it hurts. Even when the pages blur and my heart feels heavier than my planner.

But I keep writing. I keep moving. Because this is what grief and growth look like together.

Looking Forward:

❤︎︎My brother’s graduation—he deserves the world.

❤︎︎OSCE in June—my next mountain. ❤︎︎July, my birth month—maybe a quiet reset. A soft exhale.

❤︎︎And a life as an author that continues to unfold, one story, one soul-letter at a time.

To anyone reading this who feels like the year is flying past without a break: know that you’re not alone. This isn’t a perfect season, but it is a real one. And that’s where the magic often hides.

Here’s to the mess, the milestones, and the meaning.

Until next time,

Anj ♥️