Those dreadful numbers


I’ve lost count
Of the times
I’ve needed numbers
To be even, not odd

Yet I know
How irrational it seems
To place my destiny
In digits like these

It offers comfort
And control
To do something twice
Not once, nor more

(c) Sanch – Living my Imperfect Life (2014)

photo credit: tubb via photopin cc

Until next time,



On following your dreams


Born in India? Are you an Engineer or doctor? True dreams, passion, do they exist? Are they being chased by this generation?

Being born in India and growing up in the 90s, the expectation for almost every child was to become a doctor or an engineer. Not many rebelled. Most followed the norm.

I didn’t really know what I wanted to do for a while. When I was in primary school, I dabbled with becoming a doctor. Probably because I enjoyed wearing my dad’s white coat and stethoscope around my neck pretending to be one. I then dabbled with being a teacher. And I was pretty good at it. Bossing around my family and later, my sister while pretending to be a teacher was a whole lot of fun! Then I saw what it was like for my teachers at school and kinda got rid of that idea. The emphasis through school was on getting good grades. I did for a while and then we moved to India when I was in Year 6 {6th standard for those in India} and my grades took a massive hit. The only subject I continued to perform well in and enjoy was English. To the point where I would be writing poems during Maths and Science classes.

In Year 8, aged 13, I decided what my calling would be. I was going to be a journalist. A sports journalist.

But in India, a country where every parent wants their child to be an engineer or doctor, this was going to be a tad difficult. When I told my parents, they were fortunately very supportive. My dad, a doctor himself, didn’t want me to become one. My mum was a bit more sceptical and thought I would do well as a doctor. {Apparently, it didn’t matter to her that Chemistry and Physics made no sense to me whatsoever!}

By the time I completed my school certificate, I was ready to enrol into an Arts course for junior college. But the problem was, I did reasonably well in my exams and finished with an 85%. This resulted in ‘well-wishers’ questioning my intention to pursue Arts. Except for my dad and my mother’s brother and his wife, every other person thought I should pursue Science in Year 11 and 12. Mum managed to get a bit more influenced by these well-wishers and began suggesting the same.

Eventually I lost it.

I did what I did best. I rebelled. I debated mum and put up a reasonable argument. Sure I’d done well in my school certificate but it was all thanks to rote learning. I hated Science. Physics, Chemistry and to an extent, Biology. There was no way I was going to pass and I would require extra tutoring which only meant more money to spend. Fortunately for me, mum saw the light and gave in. It wasn’t the case for so many of my classmates. Almost every one I know from high school went on to become an engineer and a few, doctors.

I started to follow my dream to become a journalist but then, in my 11th and 12th, I studied psychology for the first time. And another path called out to me. Eventually, this path won over the journalistic path — possibly due to my personality at the time.

It’s a path I haven’t regretted. Being a child psychologist for 6 years now, I have no regrets. I love my work and I’m passionate about it. I feel so grateful each day when children, adolescents and their families trust me with their deepest and darkest fears. Me, a total stranger. Sometimes, changes occur. At other times they don’t. But I’m still doing what I love. Unlike some of my high school friends who work because they have to. Who don’t seem to have a passion for their engineering careers.

I have been lucky though — to have another passion. For writing. That’s where this blog has played a big role. Additionally, it’s not a dream I’m going to give up on. I start another uni course next week in Creative Writing.

Some day, down the track, I hope to merge both my passions.

Until then, I continue to dream and live.

What about you? Did you follow your dreams and passions?

Do share! 

***Linking with Indispire22***

photo credit: Nabok via photopin cc

Until next time,



Foodie Fanatic: Vegetarian Lasagne

Based on a request by R’s Mom after my post on hosting my first dinner party, I thought I’d share the recipe for the vegetarian lasagne I prepared. To help with the cause, I made it again this past weekend to get me through the week.

Makes: 8 serves


  • Lasagne sheets x 9
  • 2 cans crushed tomatoes
  • 1 x Eggplant
  • 2 x Sweet Potatoes
  • 2 x Zucchini
  • 1 x Capsicum
  • 250 gms low-fat ricotta
  • Low-fat Mozarella cheese



  • Roast the veggies in the oven
  • Place three lasagne sheets and top with some of the crushed tomato
  • Layer with roast eggplant and capsicum


  • Top with more lasagne sheets, crushed tomato and then layer the sweet potatoes and zucchini.
  • Top with ricotta


  • Put another layer of lasagne sheets and crushed tomatoes. Top with mozarella and any remaining ricotta


  • Bake in the oven at 100 degrees Celsius for 60 minutes or until the cheese is browned.


  • Cut into 8 servings.
  • Easy to freeze and have meals ready for those busy evenings!

***Linking with Lucy from Bake Play Smile and Lauren from Create Bake Make for Fabulous Foodie Fridays***

P.S. Have you entered the Imperfect Giveaway yet? Entries close 31st July 2014. Get in now! 

Until next time,





He was the most handsome guy she’d seen
Suave, charismatic, and shaven clean
His smile made her weak in the knees
In her stomach she felt butterflies and bees
When he asked her out it was a dream come true
The first date of many; soon years turned to two
Her friends thought she was the luckiest girl
When he proposed not just with diamonds but a pearl
Their wedding was a hit with no expense spared
No couple could match their love; none even dared
Few months went by of wedded bliss
T’was then her friends noticed something amiss
She bailed out on them several times in a row
Making excuses to be with her husband in tow
Her family worried that to them she no longer spoke
They wondered aloud if the couple was broke
She was seen in the shops dripping with diamonds and pearls
But underneath the façade was a broken young girl
Battered and bruised as he hit her each day
Abusing her with words, bringing her to shame
He said he was sorry more times than she’d known
Each time she forgave him for she feared being alone
Five years later, she’d lost all her friends
He was the only one for her in the end
She’d tried to leave him more than once
But he made her feel guilty by hurting himself
How could she leave him when he was broken too
She was his saviour, that much she knew
Yet at the same time, he told her she was worthless
No one would love her and once gone, none would miss
There was only one answer, one way to end the pain
She had to get out of this cycle driving her insane
She planned her escape without letting him know
It was going to be spectacular; an amazing show
On their seventh anniversary, he talked about the itch
And later that night started his game by calling her a bitch
But this time she was prepared way more than before
She pulled the trigger emitting bullets to his core
The look of horror on his face was priceless
She breathed heavily, glad to be out of this mess
As he took his final breath, drenched in blood to his feet
She rang up the cops and told them of the deed
A trial would be an ordeal to get through
But gaol would be better than what she’d had to endure
The jury saw what the clean shaven monster had done
She finally rejoiced at her ultimate freedom

(c) Sanch – Living my Imperfect Life (2014)

photo credit: dtomaloff via photopin cc

***Linking with Poetry Jam for their prompt Unexpected***

Until next time,



Thank you Thorpe

photo credit: jayhem via photopin cc

Unless you’ve been living under a rock in Australia, you probably heard about Ian Thorpe coming out during an interview with Sir Michael Parkinson. I know people have speculated about his sexuality for years and some are now questioning why he didn’t come out before or else about the timing of his revelation. {Basically, damned if you do and damned if you don’t}

To be honest, his choice of timing is nobody’s business but Thorpe’s.

But I want to thank him.

On behalf of all my young clients either struggling with their sexuality or who are out and proud but struggling with homophobic peers. Because having a role model like Thorpe who is an athlete and proud of his sexuality is a great thing.

I have one client in particular I am thinking about as I write this. I am quite fond of this young person and his family and love how supportive they are and how he is so out and proud. I still remember his parents saying they knew he was gay when he was probably 6. And I love how he has always been proud of his sexuality. Sadly though, the world we live in is a different place. This kid went to a high school that emphasised sport. And unfortunately, sport and homophobia seem to go hand-in-hand and this kid was the victim of a lot of bullying {being called ‘faggot’ and ‘poof’ like Thorpe} which in turn led to mental health problems. It made me livid that schools weren’t doing much more to prevent homophobia. To make it a safer place for young people who identified as LGBT.

I don’t care that Thorpe didn’t come out before. I bet he had his reasons. While most of society is tolerant, there are still some idiots out there *cough*our PM*cough* who think of homosexuality as something abhorrent. It’s not surprising Thorpe was worried. The sporting world in particular is a cruel one for gay men. He struggled with depression due to all this. But you know what? Even if he had come out earlier, he probably would have struggled with mental health issues. Just like my young client.

So once again Thorpe, I’m glad you came out. For the sake of all the young boys and girls out there who are struggling with their sexuality. For being able to be a voice for them. For being able to stand up to the homophobia that is rife. For normalising mental health and the struggle that is so real.

For giving my client hope and strength to stand up against those homophobic taunts he receives.

I also hope it’s a huge weight off your own shoulders.

Thank you.

***Linking with Jess for IBOT because it’s a Tuesday*** 

P.S. Have you entered the Imperfect Giveaway yet? Entries close on the 31st July! 

Until next time,



What to do when your cat has the flu

The week before last, Buttons began sneezing on Thursday morning. He’s had bouts of sneezing before and has also had cat flu when I first adopted him. Anyway, I figured I’d monitor him to see how he was going. He didn’t really improve by Friday night and was still sneezing a lot and was just very sooky. He was clingy to Z and me and even slept under the doona with me on Friday night all curled up near my stomach unlike on the top near my feet.

So on Saturday, I took him in to the vet and well, the cat flu was confirmed. He didn’t have a fever but the flu meant two things: antibiotics and eye drops. Twice a day. {The vet must hate me!}


For a cat.

Whatcha lookin at me for?

Whatcha lookin at me for?

If you think it’s hard to give those to a child, well, let me tell you this: it’s no picnic with a cat either. Especially a cat like Buttons who will eat my hair on the carpet but will refuse medication of any sort.

These were my options:

1. Hide it in his food: Well, that hasn’t worked with his worming medication because unlike Pebbles, he is sneaky enough to eat around it and leave the tiny little pill staring at you from the bowl. So it was ruled out pretty early on.

2. Be deft like the vet and pop it in his mouth while he is distracted and clinging to his mum. Given that I’m his mum, that wasn’t going to work. Obviously. Z is asleep in the mornings so I still had to figure out another distraction strategy before work if I was to use her.

3. Reason with Buttons: I honestly tried. I explained to Buttons why I needed to give him something he didn’t like. How it was for his own good. His blank look told me he didn’t give a shit and was not going to cave.

4. Wrap him in a towel and force feed him the medication and put the eye drops. This worked the last time I had to put an eye ointment back in 2012. But the trick here is to actually catch him before he figures out what’s going on. It worked the first day. I caught him and held him while he squirmed and made noises like I was killing him. And post-medication and eye drop, he hid under the bed. {Until the treat came out!}

5. Chase and wrestle: Sadly, it’s been option five that has been my go-to option. Not the best. But I’m sure it’s quite comical to see a 5 foot woman chase after a cat and try and grab him before he hides under the bed or the tables, hold him between her knees, ignore the whiney sounds like he is being strangled, hold his head and pry open his mouth, pop in the pill and then open his eyes to put the drops — all while trying not to get mauled scratched!

If I close my eyes, mum won't see me!

If I close my eyes, mum won’t see me!

I think he’s just a tad bit traumatised by this event happening for the last 10 mornings and evenings. But he still comes for a cuddle at night. Which I am thankful for.

I just wish he would understand it’s for his own good…

How hard can that be?

How do you struggle to medicate your pets? 

Do share!

***Linking with Emily and Vanessa for Laugh Link Up and Alicia for Open Slather***

P.S. Have you entered the Imperfect Giveaway yet? Entries close on the 31st July! 

Until next time,



A Fearless Life

Imagine living a life with no fears, no anxieties, no worries. Nothing. For someone who has been a worrier and well, still worries occasionally about a number of things, this would be unreal. And bliss.

Or so you would think.

Would a life without any fear actually be a life worth living?

Fear is not always a debilitating emotion. Sure, we do freeze when we are afraid of something. But fear can also spur us on to do great things. We are at our most courageous when we face our fears. So a life without any fears whatsoever would consequently mean a life without any courage. A life without any challenges.

Personally, a life without challenges and where everything is smooth sailing is not really an interesting life for me.


photo credit: venspired via photopin cc

What makes life exciting is the ups and the downs. Without the downs, we don’t learn to appreciate the ups. Without the pain, we cannot appreciate or even recognise the joys. Without the discomfort that is fear, sadness and anxiety, we cannot experience the comfort of being content or ecstatic.

Living a fearless life would mean living a boring life.

I like my imperfect life — the downs, the ups, the sidesteps, the adventures — all of it.

It’s what makes my life, mine.

It’s what makes it a journey.

I don’t know the ending but at least the mystery remains…

Would you like to live a fearless life? 

Do share!!!

***Linking with The Daily Post prompt on Fearless Fantasies***

P.S. Have you entered the Imperfect Giveaway yet? Entries are open worldwide and close 31st July. 

Until next time,