Yes, these are pre-loved clothes, bags, shoes—you name it, I’ve got them.
Sometimes, clients shyly ask if I can take their things “for donation.” But let me tell you, these are never just old items. They’re stories. Memories. A quiet part of letting go.
Today, I picked up 5 bags from a daughter whose mother is moving into a care home. Dementia is slowly taking her.
She stood at the door, trying to be strong.
“These are my mother’s. I don’t know what to do with them. You can take them… I just can’t.”
I asked, “How are you? Are you okay?”
“It’s tough. She doesn’t always remember me. When my dad had cancer, we had a month. I could prepare. But this? Watching her fade day by day… I wish she’d just go peacefully. This slow loss—it’s too much.”
I held her hand and said:
“With dementia, the pain is shared. It’s no longer her job to remember—it’s yours. Meet her where she is. Hold on to the good moments. Let love guide you through. It won’t be easy, but you’ll learn—because you love her.”
She hugged me tightly.
So yes, these are pre-loved things. But they’re also filled with life, love, laughter. And now, maybe they’ll bring joy to someone else.
Let’s not forget: even secondhand, love never fades. 🤍
#PreLovedWithLove #DementiaAwareness #LettingGo #StoriesInThings #SecondhandStories #HealingThroughGiving
Tag: #kindness
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💛 More Than Just Things 💛
My little way of helping the process
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Wings
Wings to fly,
To soar up high,
To feel the joy of open sky.
Wings to see what lies unseen,
Above the clouds, beyond the green.
Wings to lift, to dream, to try—
To give us hope,
And help us fly.
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A New Dawn of Hope
A new day of life A new day has broken—
A light of hope, a ray of confidence.
The sun rises at the edge of the horizon,
Spreading warmth to those who feel the cold.
A new day has begun,
A chance to create memories
And cherish moments of victory.
Rise up, shine—everything will be okay.
Breathe in, breathe out.
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Heroes Silent Tears
Always remember that it is okey that at times someone will pat our shoulders and tells us that you are doing okey . The Hero
In every story, there is a hero. She is the center of the tale, seemingly invincible, as if nothing could ever hurt her. But behind that brave facade lies a person who is deeply tired, silently gasping for breath. Her heart has been shattered into pieces countless times. Yet, just like in the movies, she always rises, fights, and pushes on until she claims victory. She takes care of everyone but herself.
Breathe take in the peace that the day gives. Cub in us
My dear hero, it is okay to be shattered at times, to take off the mask of bravery, and to be courageously vulnerable.
It is okay to be tired, to ask for help, and to accept a lending hand.
Sometimes, my dear hero, it is perfectly fine to let someone else take care of you.
Allow the cub within us to reign every once in a while, within this lion heart of ours.
You will always radiate the light of hope and kindness ❤️
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Fleeting Grace
Every so often, a spark of goodness crosses our path.
A quiet kindness that asks for nothing in return. Now and then, a gentle tenderness is given, wrapped in trust, without hesitation or demand, leaving you vulnerable in a way that reminds you—you are special.
Hold onto this, for once it slips past, it won’t return.
Goodness offered, kindness shared—but forever is fleeting.
Cherish it, even as it slips away.
It’s the peace and serenity
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Menopause, aching joints, and everything in between…
Yes, I’ve arrived at that phase of life. My knees? Oh, they’ve made a dramatic exit, thanks to arthritis. The cartilage in both knees is gone, which means my favorite activities have vanished too—goodbye, running and yoga! And let me tell you, that goodbye hurt more than my joints.
Meanwhile, my hormones are acting like a fireworks display, constantly going off without warning. This means I can go from weeping over a commercial to snapping at someone for breathing wrong—all in the same hour. And let’s not even get started on the sugar cravings, courtesy of glucose levels playing hopscotch every day. My belly fat? It’s taken on a life of its own, and I swear it’s plotting something.
Here comes the vicious cycle: “I can’t exercise because my joints hurt, which means I gain weight, which makes my joints hurt even more.” Exhausting, right? Well, one day I decided: Enough. There has to be more to menopause than this chaos. I wanted the 51-year-old version of me to be healthier, stronger, and maybe even a little fiercer.
So, what did I do? I became a cougar 浪. Enter: the most handsome coach in the world. Picture this: piercing blue eyes, full of concern (or maybe just mild amusement). Our first conversation went something like this:
Coach (gazing at me, probably wondering if I’m serious): “What do you want to happen with your body?”
Me: “Uhm, well, I don’t want to be Barbie… but I’d love to be fit, wrangle this midline before it gives me a cardiac arrest, and be able to jog at 70.”
Now, my coach doesn’t mess around. He pushes me to break my limits but always respects my limitations. He doesn’t care that I’m 51. “The body follows where the mind leads,” he says, which sounds so inspiring until you’re gasping for air after 20 squats.
So here I am, a month in, lifting weights—30 kg, 6 sets of 3 reps, deadlifts, and squats. My knees are getting stronger, and I can almost hear them whispering, “Thank you.” My coach, still the ruthless gentleman, has slowly reintroduced the treadmill into my life, though I keep begging him to let me run on real terrain. His answer: “Soon. Not yet. Patience.”
Menopause and aging may throw curveballs, but they don’t have to steal the things we love. Two months from now, I’ll be back to my morning yoga or jogging short distances—mark my words.
This is healing. I love me, and that means I’m going to take care of me.
Coach and I call this “wonder woman”project . I always wonder ..😄😄😄
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Wild Flower
You belong to the universe,
Your rhythm is the whisper of the wind—
You are a wild flower.
You move to your own melody,
Singing your own song,
You are a wild flower.
You belong to no one,
But to yourself.
The universe is your playground.
You are a wild flower—
Tough yet delicate, kind and loving.
Live, blossom, and let your movements lead the music of life.Be a proud Wild flower
❤️
I belong to me , I am the definition of who I am ..
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Angels
When I was younger, I always envisioned an angel as having long blonde hair, wearing a white dress, and possessing fluffy wings. She had a beautiful smile that could lighten any load.
But as I grew older, I realized that angels come in many forms—short, tall, Black, white, men, women, or anything in between.
It maybe a kind face that is willing to give you a smile An angel is more than just a celestial being; it’s a metaphor for a blessing, a symbol of hope, and a source of light that can make you smile when life feels hard to define.
We are all angels in our own way.
As my favorite author once said, “We are like angels with one wing; we need each other to be able to fly.”
Love, kindness , compassion and prayers is all we need to get through those days that are very challenging So, choose to be an angel in someone’s life today.
Be a ray of light ❤️
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Embrace the Journey
Walk in solitude,
Embrace the silence,
Breathe in the peace.
As long as you have YOU,
Everything will be okay.Embark on the journey with a heart full of faith.
Embark on the adventure with excitement tingling to the very core of your soul.Walk, discover, and be excited.
Life is an adventure to be explored!
I am not scared , I am excited life and Me
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Portraits, moments and broken pieces
A gift by a friend who see me through my soul , my being .. There are moments that we keep close in our hearts . Moments that sparks of joy to our souls and bring a smile to our lips . ..
These moments are not huge they are just pulses of life that we sometimes take for granted . A warm hug , a cake and good company.
The pulses of life Cherish ,them took a portrait of that moment.
Portraits are the mirror of us in the eyes of those who loves us and despise us .
Portraits reflects a moment in time. It brings us back to a nostalgic road of joy and at times path of lessons that have been resulted from broken relationships.
Broken pieces .. broken moments , broken relationships Broken relationships are not necessarily be a bad thing or a bad experience … it is a journey of growth and self development as we better ourselves.We change and we grow apart.
I am thankful for the lessons for those who broke me ..For it is to them that I grow .. It’s with them that I become a better version of meyself.As I walk in this path of cherished moments ,I will always take portraits of special moments.
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