If we were having wine, I’d tell you I’ve been feeling low lately. Life feels heavy, and I need a space to unload—both the things weighing me down and, hopefully, some happy moments too. This is me coping with burnout.

The Weight of Missed Opportunities

A few weeks ago, an opportunity came my way. It could have been amazing, but it didn’t work out. I’ve made peace with that part. What’s harder to shake is how small and empty the people involved made me feel, like I didn’t matter. It’s strange, isn’t it? Some people seem to enjoy putting others down, yet life rewards them. Do they ever pay for it? It’s hard not to wonder.

If We Were Having Wine, I’d Share My Work Struggles

Work hasn’t been fulfilling lately. All it brings is stress, with no appreciation in return. The little girl in me who was always sincere holds me back from reacting, but the cost is living with this strain every day. I crave the weekends when I can leave the office behind. I know I want a change, but the universe moves at its own pace. Maybe a shooting star is what I need.

Questioning the Price of Being “Good”

Have you ever wondered about the cost of always being “good”? You give and give, only for people to want more. The minute you set a boundary, you’re suddenly the ungrateful one. I’m tired of it. If I’d known the price, I might have chosen to be selfish from the start. As they say, I’m in my “bitch era” now. Being too considerate of others has drained me, and it’s time to change that.

Taking Up Space Without Apology

I’m done with feeling like I need to take up less space. It’s exhausting to always prioritize others’ comfort over my own. From now on, I’m okay with not bending over backwards to be polite when others don’t extend the same courtesy.

It’s a simple wish—to start each day without dread and end each week feeling restored. Is that too much to ask?

On Writing and Finding Inspiration

If we were having wine, I’d tell you about my daughter’s recent question: “Why aren’t you writing another book?” It’s a fair question. The truth is, between work and life, there’s little time or energy left. Plus, being an introvert, marketing my first book as a self-published author has been a challenge. But maybe, just maybe, a writing retreat could rekindle my passion.

Post-Diwali Blues and the Rut of Routine

Diwali has come and gone, and I’m in a kind of festival withdrawal. This year feels different—I feel gutted that it’s over. No more holidays mean uninterrupted workdays, and I’m realizing just how much that weighs on me. If showing up at work brings me this level of unhappiness, something has to change.

Longing for a Shillong December

I miss the December of my childhood, spent in Shillong. I want a December filled with reds and greens, the scent of fresh cake in the air, silver-topped treats, and carols echoing in the streets. I want long, slow days under the winter sun, peeling oranges, and feeling light-hearted again. It’s a simple wish—to start each day without dread and end each week feeling restored. Is that too much to ask?

Finding Catharsis in the Act of Writing

If I’ve dragged you down a little, I hope you’ll understand. Writing helps me make sense of these emotions, to release and renew. It’s cathartic. Maybe someone out there feels the same way I do, and if so, they’ll know they’re not alone. I can only hope for peace soon—or maybe an escape.

If we were having wine, I’d ask you, are you tired of my rants? If so, maybe you should write your own “If We Were Having Wine” story and share it with me.