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Hello friends! Are you there? I have a confession. I have an obsession with dystopian leaning shows. One of my absolute favorites is Mr. Robot which is in a class of its own. When it first aired in 2015, I thought it was a cool, edgy, raw and an honest take about a hoodie-wearing hacker who mumbled monologues and occasionally committed cyberterrorism. Fast-forward to 2025, and it turns out Mr. Robot wasn’t just cool or edgy, it was clairvoyant. Rewatching the show now feels less like revisiting fiction and more like unlocking a prophecy left to us by creator Sam Esmail: a moody guidebook to late-stage capitalism, surveillance states, economic collapse, and mental fragmentation as a coping mechamism. Despite all this darkness, there’s something oddly comforting in it. It’s like yelling into the void only to hear Elliot Alderson whisper back, “Hello, friend.” Surveillance? Check. Corporate Control? Check. Mental Breakdown? Double Check. In 2015, the idea of a conglomerate like E Corp (or “Evil Corp,” as Elliot and everyone else in the show casually calls it) running the world felt like satire to many. In 2025, Amazon is selling us insulin, Google knows what we want before we do, and most people think Black Mirror is a lifestyle channel. Evil Corp isn't a dystopian invention, it's a startup pitch deck. “The world itself’s just one big hoax.”— Elliot Alderson, Season 1, Episode 1 That line used to feel like a college freshman’s existential Tumblr post. Now it reads like your uncle’s resignation letter from his third job this year. Esmail’s script doesn’t just hold up, it aged into a cynical middle-aged man muttering under his breath at Whole Foods or a millennial TikToker’s crash out in his car, questioning why he owes everyone two hundred dollars. In Mr. Robot , we watch as hackers from fsociety wipe out global debt by taking down Evil Corp’s records. It’s dramatic. It’s chaotic. It's every millennial and Gen Z’er’s dream scenario, right before realizing the collapse of centralized finance also erases all our digital bank accounts. Yet, in 2025, watching debt cancellation via cyber-attack doesn’t seem so far-fetched. We’ve just come out of another election cycle where half the candidates debated whether billionaires should be taxed and the other half debated whether reality still exists. Student loan forgiveness plans that were once in gridlocked in Congress have now been paused by a nefarious regime, giving great satisfaction in watching Elliot bring down the system with a few keystrokes? Therapeutic. The Mental Health of a Nation . Perhaps Mr. Robot ’s most enduring relevance isn’t just its take on corporate tyranny or tech surveillance, but its emotional honesty. Elliot’s dissociative identity disorder, anxiety, and loneliness aren’t plot devices—they’re the show’s core. “What if, instead of fighting back, we cave. Give away our privacy for convenience, our dignity for security, our freedom for a false sense of ownership.”— Mr. Robot, Season 2 Sound familiar? That’s basically the user agreement for every app on your phone. Meanwhile, Elliot’s internal struggle—am I real, or just a product of my trauma?—is the central tension of a society that now spends 10 hours a day glued to algorithmic content. In 2025, mental health is no longer a taboo topic, but that doesn’t mean we’ve solved anything. Like Elliot, w e toggle between radical action and total shutdown. We’re more connected and more isolated than ever. And for all our talk of “self-care,” we still cry at the grocery store and call it therapy. “I’m good at reading people. My secret? I look for the worst in them.”— Elliot Alderson, Season 1 Every politician, CEO, and influencer is trying to convince us they’re just like us , Elliot’s honesty is extremely refreshing. He doesn’t believe in the system. He doesn’t believe in people. And yet, ironically, he tries . He wants connection. He wants justice and so do most of us. The Revolution Will Be Livestreamed... and Monetized . One of Mr. Robot ’s strongest predictions is how revolution doesn’t look like what we imagine. There are no clean-cut heroes or triumphant marches. Instead, we get masked hackers, misinformation campaigns, and unexpected consequences. What fsociety unleashes isn’t just economic collapse, it’s chaos, disillusionment, and power vacuums. “People always told me growing up that it’s never about the destination. It’s about the journey. But what if the destination is you? What if it’s always been you?”— Elliot, Season 4 It’s a deeply personal quote, but it also speaks of something larger: the idea that we are the ones we've been waiting for. We’re both the virus and the remedy. The saboteur and the builder. As we fumble through our own versions of social, political, and climate upheaval in America, Mr. Robot reminds us: real change is messy, non-linear, and often deeply personal. In 2025, revolt doesn’t seem to come with barricades, it comes with hashtags, collabs, and merch drops. The line between protest and profit has blurred. Ask Target’s shareholders! Much like Allsafe, the cybersecurity firm that cozied up to the very powers it was meant to check, survival in today’s system often means compromise. And that’s what makes Mr. Robot ’s blurry morality feel so authentic. No one gets out unscathed. Why We Need Mr. Robot Now More Than Ever—It’s Us . Rewatching Mr. Robot in 2025 isn’t just about nostalgia. It’s about recognition and reckoning. It’s about seeing how far we’ve come and how many loops we’re still trapped in. When the show ended in 2019, the world hadn’t yet seen COVID-19, the full rise of AI, or the politicization of reality itself. Now, we’re living in a time where democracy feels fragile, truth feels relative, and mental health is a public crisis. Elliot’s disorientation? It's not just his anymore—it’s ours. The final season reminds us that healing is possible and that confronting your past can set you free. The revolution might begin on the streets, but it finishes in the heart. “There was a part of me that wanted to escape this. But I know now—this is who I am.”— Elliot, Season 4 Finale In the end, Mr. Robot isn’t just about hackers, or capitalism, or even the revolution, it’s about identity; about seeing yourself clearly in a world designed to blur the lines and maybe that’s why it matters even more now. Because Mr. Robot isn’t fiction anymore. It’s us.

Ever since my daughter started her first day of day care, she was on a mission to convince us that homeschooling was the way to go. Yes, you read that right! Her passionate campaign peaked at 7 years old in the second grade. Every time she brought up her rally cry, she had this spark in her eye, like she was onto something big that we adults just didn’t get. So, after a few months of hearing her sad pleas of “Can I be homeschooled? Pleeease?” over and over, I finally started looking into it. Here are the reasons why she was so keen on homeschooling, what I learned from her persistence, and where we arrived in the great “To Homeschool or Not to Homeschool” debacle. The Appeal of Homeschool: A 7-Year-Old’s Perspective. In her younger years, she was extremely shy and is also introverted. It took her almost four months to utter a word at her first day care when she was two. Her experience before this was at home filled with circle time, flash cards, reading, arts, crafts and science projects. I created a learning environment that they enjoyed. She still remembers my made up songs that we sang at circle time. Some days I am surprised she still remembers them. I really underestimated the value of the two years she spent at home with me creating all these fond memories. I think so much of her desire to be homeschooled was based on nostalgia. I mean, how much can a young kid really know about the benefits and disadvantages of “traditional” versus “alternative” schooling, right? I also knew this wasn’t just about skipping school to stay in pajamas (though I’m sure that has some appeal, too!). I sensed the desire for homeschooling had a lot to do with wanting to avoid anxiety inducing social settings, the worst being school. The dynamics of making new friends is not her strength. She hates it. So, I sat down and asked, “Why do you want to be homeschooled so much?” Here’s what she shared: “I want more personal learning time.” Traditional schools have a set curriculum, but my child wants to learn about things she’s deeply interested in, and her list is, well, unique! For example, she fascinated by the human body (all the systems), space, and science. She has stated that she wants to be a pediatrician, paleontologist and a geologist. The idea of picking what to study on a whim excites her—and I have to admit, it sounds pretty fun! “I want more time with my family.” Yes, this made my heart melt. She was struggling to make friends and not enjoying socializing with other children, so she loves the idea of learning alongside family, exploring topics together, and sharing in each other’s growth. “School is too noisy.” The daily grind of getting ready, heading to school, sitting in classes, and coming back home exhausted her a lot. My kiddo wants to learn in a way that feels less draining and more engaging. “I get to make my own schedule.” She may not fully understand the concept of “scheduling,” but she does understand that homeschooling means a more flexible day. She’s drawn to the idea of learning in bursts, with breaks when she needs them, and tackling different activities throughout the day. “I could learn outside more.” One of her biggest dreams is to study outside in nature. Whether it’s reading books under a tree or bringing the science projects outside, my child is consumed with the idea of the world being her classroom. I considered her enthusiasm for homeschooling, and began diving deeper into the potential benefits. And I’ll admit, I was beginning to see the magic she saw. The idea of a personalized learning path, and flexibility and freedom seemed very appealing. Of course, it’s not all butterflies and sunshine. As much as the idea of homeschooling has its perks, it also brings some serious considerations: for instance, socialization concerns for a child who is already introverted and shy, the amount or responsibility that would fall on me a the primary caretaker, requiring my career to be on the back burner and the access to resources for learning. There was a lot to weigh. Again, I strongly suspected that her request this time around was because she was struggling to acclimate to her school, even a year and a half after moving. I told her that we will finish out second grade, see how she feels and then we can talk about it again. She was happy with that even though it was not the outcome she wanted. I think she was just happy I wasn’t saying no. As we got closer to the end of second grade, I noticed more confidence and more talk of friends by their names. She finally said she wanted to remain in school, because she likes her friends, and she doesn’t want to finish high school and realize “I didn’t learn all the things I needed to”—these were her exact words. Wow! I couldn’t believe my ears. I was happy to hear this, because I wasn’t ready to make the life altering decision of homeschooling her. I guess it worked out for all of us. To another year of public school!

Originally posted November 3, 2020 Over a year ago, I was having a conversation with a friend. During our talk, she expressed her anxiety around being unprepared for her driving road test, especially since she had only done a few sessions. In addition, she had been listening to the stories of all the people she knew who failed. I said to her verbatim, "Acknowledge their stories and experiences, but focus on yours. You lose sight when you get caught up in their failures. If you fail, you can repeat it. Fail up." These words did the job, because she instantly responded with enthusiasm, "I love that 'fail up!' Ok. I will." After our conversation, I thought about my past mistakes and how my perspective on failure affected my recovery. "Acknowledge their stories and experiences, but focus on yours." I will admit that I have a fear of failure surrounding major life changing decisions. When it comes to smaller failures I bounce back quickly. I am a glass half full kind of woman who practices the arts mindfulness and gratefulness. Here are the steps I have developed over time that have helped me through my own personal failures. Give myself time to grieve. I allowed myself to feel all the emotions that come with failure. No skipping the grieving process, otherwise, I miss valuable lessons. Take stock of the lessons taught by failure. Try to understand what happened and how any of my actions may have affected the outcome. Document it. I strongly believe in writing things down. It is easy to forget things, so documenting how a failure occurred is a great tool. It reminds me of what steps to avoid, so I don't repeat them. Forgive myself. I am my biggest and worst critic, and I am very good at giving myself an emotional smackdown. Understand, c Pick yourself up. After you've done the emotional labor needed to heal from failure, you can get back to the business of setting new goals and acting on them. “Without failures, there are no successes to celebrate.” So to everyone experiencing a failure, understand that there is success in failures. Take yourself to the next level by cultivating the attitude needed to fail up.

In an effort to keep my stomach happy along with one of my daughter’s, we have made a decision to change a lot of our staples to gluten free. I am still learning, but as I learn, I want to share. So far, this recipe has been a hit even for the members of my family who can still have gluten. It started first as an almond flour waffle, ran out out of almond flour and substituted with gluten free all purpose flour, and a completely gluten free option. You have three options to these delicious waffles. Thank me later. Almond Flour Waffle You’ll need: 1 1/2 cups almond flour 1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1-2 teaspoons sugar (white or brown) 1/2 cup milk 1 large egg 1 1/2 teaspoons melted butter, coconut oil or vegetable oil Mixed Almond Flour Waffle You’ll need: 1 cup almond flour 1/2 cup gluten free all purpose flour 1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1-2 teaspoons sugar (white or brown) 1/2 cup milk 1 large egg 1 1/2 teaspoons melted butter, coconut oil or vegetable oil Gluten Free Waffle You’ll need: 1 1/2 cups gluten free all purpose flour 1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1-2 teaspoons sugar (white or brown) 1/2 cup milk 1 large egg 1 1/2 teaspoons coconut oil or vegetable oil *gluten and nut free Preheat your waffle iron. Whisk together the almond flour, baking powder and sugar in a bowl. Whisk together the milk, egg and butter or oil in a larger bowl. Stir in the flour mixture until it is well combined. Coat the waffle iron with cooking spray or oil. Pour 1/4 to 1/3 cup of batter onto the waffle iron depending on its size, and cook until the waffles are amber brown. This can take 3 to 5 minutes depending on the size. Serve with maple syrup and enjoy.

Scrolling through Facebook Marketplace will always be a happy place for me. It gives me an adrenaline rush that nowhere else does. I love being able to get second-hand furniture that I can give a new home and help preserve the planet in my small way. My bookmark is filled with so many items that usually include amazing mid-century modern furniture. They're honestly things I live for. As always, my choices are intentional and always have to serve a purpose. Recently, I saw a seller who had a beautiful dresser/sideboard that I liked and wanted for my bedroom. She was about fifty minutes away heading east. Everyone knows I will chase a good piece of furniture to the ends of the earth and I sure did. After having to cancel our initial arrangement for the exchange, I assumed that the item would be gone by the next week, but it wasn't. She reached out and told me it was still there and I could come get it to my surprise. I was ecstatic. I got up early that morning and asked ft I could come earlier than planned. She agreed and I was on my way out. Living in the Northeast has its perks, but on other days, it can feel like a crap show. Case in point, the tons of snow sitting on our cars after the downpour from the night before. In freezing temperatures, I got the snow off and started my journey playing one of my favorite artists Lucky From having to get snow off the car and driving an hour away between two states—yes, the Capital Region of NY is almost directly west of the borders of both Vermont and Massachusetts—was nothing short of an adventure. I drove between these two states and for about 15 miles, I was the only person driving east. Scary!!! Not for me.  The scenery along the way was amazing. Crossing over the Tomhannock Reservoir was truly the highlight. It was straight out of a movie with a very foggy appeal. I wish I had driven a little slower over the bridge, but it was everything. Driving through the Tibbits State Forest along State Route 7 was also very eye-catching with the many twists and curves you would expect from being in the mountains. I also caught a glimpse of an interesting store The Potter Hill Barn and made a promise to myself to stop on my way back. Hoosic Falls, Renata Poleon, 2024 I got to my location and met with the seller, an older woman. I omitted a very important fact. I hadn’t noticed that the dresser was shorter than I wanted it to be. After pondering on whether should take it or not, I decided to make the purchase. After all, I had driven that far. When loading it up, we decided to load the drawers first. As I was walking to the car, the joint between the front and side came off on two of the drawers. She was apologetic and gave me a price reduction to $20. It was a problem I could fix with some sanding and wood glue and took it anyway. On my way back, as promised, I stopped at The Potter Hill Barn and boy was I happy I did—sad for my purse though. About 30 minutes and $60 later, I was back on my way home from Hoosick Falls to the Capital Region. The Potter Hill Barn, Renata Poleon, 2024 Small Town, Renata Poleon, 2024 As soon as I got home, I wiped this baby down, pulled, sanded the crevices, pulled out the wood glue, and got to work. Let’s just say, it was well worth it. I love the outcome. Until my next adventure, happy hunting to you. (Feature photo Bedroom Decor, Renata Poleon, 2024)

Marie Kondo will always be the decluttering goddess to me. She encourages clients to: hold an item in their hands and ask, “Does this spark joy?”  If it does, keep it. If it doesn’t, thank it for its service and let it go. Well, I have a list of things in my home that don’t just fail  the joy test—they actively enrage me. And yet… they remain. Some out of necessity, some because of guilt, and some because, apparently, I enjoy suffering. Welcome to my Anti-Marie Kondo List —a tribute to the items that bring not joy, but rage-fueled muttering under my breath. The “Smart” Devices that are Anything but . I bought a smart speaker so I could feel like I was living in the future. Instead, I live in frustration. " Play 90s R& B " to which it responds " Playing Pop music.... " Ugggghhhh. Half the time, it doesn’t hear me. The other half, it misinterprets my requests and blasts music at full volume when all I wanted was some soothing music to keep my day going. If I so much as think  about asking it something, it activates at the worst possible moment. Does it randomly start playing bedtime sound at 8 p.m every night? Yes. I am still trying to figure out how to turn this routine off. Almost useless at this point. The Food Container Cabinet of Chaos . My food container cabinet gets organized, but it takes approximately 4.7 seconds for everything to be completely disorganized. If I lived alone, it would be immaculate, but I have my partner and two broke best friends—my daughters. Does it spark deep existential dread every time I open it? Absolutely. Absolutely yes. The drawer of mystery cords . At this point, I’m convinced that at least half the cords in my house belong to devices I haven’t owned in years. Phone chargers for phones that no longer exist. Random HDMI cables for… something? A collection of mystery adapters that I might  need one day but probably never will. None of it sparks joy, at all. But do I throw them out? Of course not. What if I suddenly need a charger for my 2012 digital camera? The Throw Blanket Situation . I love a good throw blanket. Something cozy for each family member on those cold nights. Instead, they have become an elaborate obstacle course or my living room floor that must be managed  every single day. They also have a habit of disappearing or getting lost in my kids' bedrooms, but can never be in the assigned storage basket that sits next to the sofa. They've now become picnic blankets for the girls for the times when they decide that they don't want to eat at the table. I mean, they save the floor from crumbs, but now have to be washed more than I would like to. Do they make my couch look aesthetically pleasing? Yes, which is why they remain. The Utensil Drawer Full of Betrayal . My nitpicking side comes on full display with this drawer. I mean who puts the bowl part of a spoon or the tines of a fork facing the drawer opening rather than away? Someone has to really hate the people they live with to commit such an act of betrayal. Does it spark joy? No. Does it make me question my life choices every time I need a fork? Yes. The only direction cutlery should face The winter coat pile-up on the closet handle . Every winter, I tell myself I'll get better at making sure that the kids follow their routine of hanging their coats without me having to be militant about it. Every winter, we start off well and then fail. Instead of neatly hanging in the closet where they technically  belong, coats sometimes end up hanging on the entryway closet or occasionally in a chaotic mound inside the closet. Apparently, getting a hanger for them is too much effort. At this point, as long as there is only one coat per knob, I am typically fine. If it increases to more than that it sparks a mild rage when I walk past it. The end result is rage cleaning from the deep-seated frustration. The Shower Curtain That Tries to Kill Me . There is something deeply unsettling about a shower curtain that insists on clinging to you while you’re showering. No matter how I position it, no matter what I do, it will find me. And in that moment, nothing sparks more rage than fighting off a damp, plastic ghost while just trying to get clean. Does it make me irrationally mad every time it happens? You bet. I know, I could  get rid of some of these things. I could  organize things better, maybe. But let’s be real—I share my home with three other humans and I am not about to torment us all in the name of having an aesthetically pleasing home at all times. Our home is meant to be lived in and not a show house, so these infuriating items are part of the fabric of my home. Maybe, just maybe, the rage they spark is a weird kind of joy in itself. Or maybe I just need to arrange additional appointments with my therapist. What’s in your home that sparks rage instead of joy? Let me know in the comments so we can suffer together.

Growing up, my skin was at the forefront of my mind. I was the child who had a severe skin reaction that left me with post-inflammatory hyperpigmentation (PIH) . The quickest way for anyone to tear down my spirit and self-esteem for just about anything was to comment on the dark spots on my skin. It became a common thing, to the point where a teacher and family member of mine would point it out as a way to get me back in line for any small indiscretions on my part. I had a fairly good childhood, but the memories of adults and children commenting on something I had no control over left me with deep emotional wounds. It took years and almost well into my late twenties to heal. I was jealous of everyone who had great skin . I always wondered in my younger years, " Why do I have to deal with this? " Of course, that did absolutely nothing. I became fixated on trying to not have my skin noticed, but also very early on tried to not make it a big issue. I mean, what choice did I have?! I lived on a hot tropical island till my late teens, so there was no option to cover up completely. I saw every dark spot, every look, and had to politely answer every question to quickly shut down every conversation. My skin didn't stop me from wearing a swimsuit and enjoying the beach as much as my friends, but it surely made me hyperaware of others' judgments, and to avoid that, I dressed to cover my legs as much as possible. As I got older and moved away from my home country to the US, I must say I was happy to have a fresh start. Living in the northeast with three-quarters of the year spent in clothing that covers most of the body, I was happy. I no longer felt the anxiety that I once had, because there was nothing to see. This allowed me to find treatments for my skin to reduce the hyperpigmentation. It was a time of trial and error and even body makeup to feel better about wearing that knee-length dress. I had never worn short shorts in my life and it took till my mid-twenties to try on and wear out in public my first pair of shorts. They say your brain doesn't fully mature till about twenty-five. Well, that was right around the time that I came to the conclusion that I did not have to live in perpetual anxiety or in fear of the judgment of others. As much as I enjoy a more conservative style, I was ready to let go and feel free to wear what I liked in spite of the length. By that time my skin had gotten significantly better, and if it required a small brush of body powder, so be it. I just knew that I was no longer willing to be restricted by something that once caused me so much grief. One outfit at a time , I slowly began to build my confidence in my appearance. My self-esteem is not completely tied to my appearance, but it is a contributing factor. We all care about how we look and to say the opposite is a clear untruth. I just had to realize that it was okay to make modifications to better ourselves for our own acceptance. I am happy to have arrived at that place in my mid-twenties, because I know how a negative self-image can damage one's spirit. As a mother of two little girls, I do everything I can to build their confidence and teach them that the best love is radical self-love. If not for me, at least for them. What self-esteem issues did you or do you struggle with or have overcome?

I will never get tired of the online responses to the question, “What level of adulting have you reached?” They’re funny, wildly accurate, and sometimes hit a little too close to home. Some days I genuinely feel like I’ve arrived at peak responsible human mode—bills paid, dinner cooked, emotional stability intact. On other days, I wonder how I managed to rub my two remaining brain cells together long enough to survive. And still, here I am: responsible for two little ones who think their mom is the biggest clown in the world—and love me even more for it. There was a time I believed adulthood would simply happen , as if it were a magical level unlocked just by piling on the years. But with time (and a healthy dose of reality), I realized this is not how any of it works. A seventeen-year-and-364-day-old doesn’t transform into a full-blown adult the moment the clock strikes midnight on their eighteenth birthday. And yet, it’s surprising how often that exact expectation is projected onto young people. “You’re 18 now, you should know better.” Should they? Really? Adulthood is not a line you cross. It’s an ongoing, full-time, no-days-off apprenticeship. It’s a skillset built by doing life, sometimes well, often messily. The learning doesn’t truly begin until you’re out in the world without the built-in safety net of school, family, and routines that guide you. And even then, it’s a lot of trial and error. So where do you stand in the hierarchy of grown-up life? Let’s take a look at the unofficial (but emotionally accurate) stages of adulting. Level 1: Barely Functioning, But Trying . This is where many of us start, and let’s be honest, sometimes return to. It’s the “Wait... I have to cook? Every. Day?”  phase. You forget to defrost the chicken, cereal is dinner (again), and the thought of opening that mail pile by the door feels like a Herculean task. You’re holding on by the grace of your phone calendar and sheer willpower. Laundry only gets done when you’ve completely run out of socks, and budgeting? That’s just hoping your card doesn’t decline. Taxes and health insurance paperwork get stuffed in a drawer, only to be rediscovered in a future archaeological dig of your own home. For those of us with kids : This level hits differently. You spend 45 minutes making a healthy dinner just for your child to look at it like you’ve served them poison. You’re tired before you even open your eyes in the morning. Most days, you're just trying to keep the household running without completely unraveling. If Little Timmy has to make friends with the stuffed animals because Mom is on the brink—so be it. Level 2: Basic Survival Mode . At this stage, you’ve figured out the bare bones of functioning. You pay your bills—maybe even on time! You’ve graduated from cereal for dinner to a rotation of three go-to meals. Cleaning happens inconsistently, but it happens. You buy toilet paper before  you run out, and maybe—just maybe—you even separate your laundry sometimes. Burnout is a real part of this level. Adulting doesn’t pause just because you're exhausted. Some days, putting on pants and showing up is the win. And that deserves celebration. Parents in this zone : You are constantly on the verge of being overwhelmed. A quiet moment for yourself is like spotting a rare bird—fleeting and unbelievable. But no matter how depleted you feel, your kids still need water, snacks, and endless attention. You can't break down because someone always needs something from you. So you push forward, even if you’re running on fumes. Level 3: Functional Adult With Glimpses of Maturity . This level feels like finding a rhythm, even if you're still missing the beat occasionally. You begin choosing to go to bed at a reasonable hour, not because someone told you to, but because you feel  the difference the next morning. You know that hydration helps and keeps water within reach. There’s a loose budget in place, and while you may stray from it now and then, you understand the importance of keeping one. Meal planning, once an overwhelming task, now feels doable, even enjoyable on a good week. You know where important documents are (or at least where to start looking), and you’re no longer startled by adult things like tax forms and appointment reminders. And when you’re a parent at this level : You’ve figured out a few parenting tricks—like how to throw together a lunchbox in under five minutes or how to keep the kids entertained during errands. You may not have it all together, but you have a routine that mostly works, and you’ve learned to forgive yourself on the days it doesn’t. You recognize when you're nearing burnout and have started building little systems to keep it at bay, whether it’s a chore chart for the kids or a 10-minute breather while hiding in the bathroom. Level 4: Full-Blown Responsible Human . This is the point where adulting begins to feel less like treading water and more like swimming laps—maybe not perfectly, but with some grace. You have a real savings account and you contribute to it. You floss regularly (even if only because you’re tired of the dentist guilt-tripping you). You know how to manage a schedule, negotiate bills, and make your own doctor appointments. Surprises like a flat tire or an unexpected bill are met with mild annoyance rather than a full mental breakdown. You’ve accepted that this is your life now—and you’re doing your best to make it a good one. Parenting from this place : It is still hard, but it comes with a clearer sense of confidence. You plan meals that (sometimes) your kids actually eat. You’ve learned how to co-manage your own needs with those of your children, even if it's not perfectly balanced. The calendar is full of school events and sports practices, and somehow, you remember most of them. You’ve gotten good at multitasking, prioritizing, and adjusting when things don’t go according to plan, which, let’s be honest, is most of the time. Level 5: Ultimate Adult Mastery (AKA Mythical Unicorn Status) . This level is rarely seen in the wild—and even when it is, those who’ve reached it tend to remind the rest of us that it’s not all that glamorous. You make dentist appointments before  you need them. You know your credit score and understand your insurance policies. You file your taxes early, and you do it with a spreadsheet and color-coded folder system. Meal planning has become your domain of creative expression, and grocery shopping feels less like a chore and more like a curated experience. You’ve stopped reacting in crisis—started anticipating and handling life with a calm, strategic approach. And as a parent in this magical land : You’ve reached the “systems” stage of parenting. You’ve probably got a command center in your kitchen, or at the very least a working routine for school drop-offs, meal prep, and weekend plans. You’ve figured out how to maintain boundaries, enforce screen time rules without constant power struggles, and carve out space for yourself without guilt. You parent with intention, not just a reaction, and your kids are learning from your example even if they still leave their socks everywhere. But Here’s the Secret… Even if you hit Level 5, you’ll still have Level 1 days. You’ll forget to reply to emails. You’ll eat popcorn for dinner. You’ll avoid your to-do list and binge-watch a show while ignoring the growing pile of laundry. That’s life. Adulting isn’t about perfection. It’s about progress. It’s about showing up, day after day, in whatever way you can manage. You don’t have to reach Level 5 to be doing okay. You just have to keep going. So… what level are you  at today? And more importantly, where would you like to be? Let’s talk about it in the comments. No judgment here, just a bunch of us figuring it out, one level at a time. (Photo by Anthony Fomin/Unsplash)

My wedding day was a rainy December morning. For me, rain has always been a symbol of blessings and favor, and it made the day we chose each other even more meaningful. In honor of that moment, we later named one of our daughters Raine . With my mother and his best friend as our witnesses, we stood together, ready to say our I Do’s . I remember feeling a deep sense of hopefulness, excitement, and joy about embarking on what I thought would be a lifelong journey. Just a few days before the wedding, I found myself having a mini-meltdown in the dressing room of the Diane Von Furstenberg store in Soho. Finding my wedding dress was a story in itself that required more effort than I anticipated. We planned a city hall wedding , so it wasn't an elaborate celebration—just exactly what we wanted. But as the day approached, the excitement and nerves started crashing down all at once. After the tears in that fitting room, I found the most beautiful dress with the help of a really special store employee. It was perfect—simple, elegant, and a reflection of me. I couldn't help but think that one day, maybe one of my future daughters might want to wear or incorporate it into their own special day if they choose to get married. I was beyond happy, standing next to the person I believed I would spend the rest of my life with. The Slow Crumbling of a Marriage . The signs were already there long before we got married, but I believed that his positive traits far outweighed the negatives. I never turned a blind eye to our issues and would address them as I saw fit, but my concerns were sometimes ignored or met with resistance. He would sometimes acknowledge them, make adjustments, but then regress into old patterns. Like most marriages that end in divorce, our marriage fell apart gradually. It wasn't one catastrophic event, but rather a series of ever-increasing missteps that piled up brick by brick, until it became too high to climb. At the core of it was neglect—emotional and physical neglect that crept in both before and during our marriage. We were two imperfect humans trying to navigate life together, and at the time, my imperfect partner was worth it to me. I married a provider, but he willfully marched into workaholic territory ignoring his responsibility to me as his wife. It led to countless arguments, full of words neither of us could take back. I watched as work became his shield—a coping mechanism to avoid our problems—his own, mine, and ours as a couple. Resentment began to fester inside me like an untreated wound, slowly infecting everything around us. I felt unseen, unheard, and deeply alone in my own marriage. I couldn’t function in that space, let alone offer him or myself any grace. It was a painful, suffocating experience— one that slowly dismantled what we were trying to build , piece by fragile piece. Accepting the End . Most people get married with the intention of staying married—certainly, that was my plan. We go into marriage with the hope that our love will withstand whatever life throws at us. I wanted that for us. I wanted our relationship to work and our family to stay whole. But eventually, I had to face the truth that my marriage had reached the end of the road . Before asking for a divorce, I tried. I asked for therapy, I suggested living apart for a while to give us both some space to gain perspective. But he was staunchly opposed to every option I put on the table. Divorce was never my first choice, but it became my only choice when nothing else worked. I had to put myself first and prioritize my well-being. Absent of abuse, infidelity, or severe addiction, I always encourage anyone contemplating divorce to make every effort to salvage their relationship. Divorce is costly—financially and emotionally—and often consumes more energy than the time and effort put into building the marriage in the first place. I didn’t rush into it. I exhausted every option I could think of before I finally decided to call it quits. Choosing divorce wasn’t about giving up—it was about saving myself from a relationship that had become more harmful than healing. I had to make peace with the reality that loving someone sometimes means letting go. The Aftermath: What Divorce Brought to the Surface . There were other issues, of course, because relationships don’t crumble over one thing; they unravel because of everything. The act of getting divorced brought up so many unexpected emotions, fears, and realizations that I had never considered before. For Me Becoming a Black Single Mother. I went through a period of mourning—not just for my marriage but for the life I had envisioned for my family. I had to grapple with what it meant to be not just a single mother, but a single black mother , who shoulders these responsibilities while navigating societal perceptions. Black single motherhood comes with unique challenges that are deeply rooted in both misogyny and harmful stereotypes. No one other than a Black woman truly understands what it’s like to be villainized for being the one who stayed, who tried, and who ultimately made the painful decision to leave. That awareness terrified me. For a long time, I couldn’t bring myself to stop wearing my wedding band. I feared the judgment of being labeled “ another single Black mother .” As the daughter of a single mother myself, someone I am immensely proud of, my fear wasn’t rooted in disdain for women who had children out of wedlock. Instead, it was about the harsh, nefarious words of people who demonized Black mothers, treating them as symbols of failure rather than women navigating complex lives. I had to process these feelings and come to the realization that the thoughts of others, no matter how loud or judgmental, do not define me. My responsibility is to myself and to the children I share with my ex-husband. Living Alone for the First Time. Before my divorce, I had never lived alone. My journey began in the Caribbean, surrounded by an extended family, and when I moved to the United States, I continued living with my mother and her sister's family. Later, my mother and I moved in together, and about a year later, I moved in with my ex-husband. I had never inhabited a space where the four walls were mine and mine alone, and the thought of doing so terrified me. Despite my fears, I knew moving forward with my decision was the right thing to do. I wasn’t alone—I had my girls, who needed me to create an environment where their mother was happy and at peace. That mattered more than anything else, because I wanted to stop that feeling of wanting to run away from my own life. Eventually, I realized that simply removing what was unbearable at the time was a better solution than running away. Once I made that decision, I felt that I could breathe again. The tension that had suffocated our home slowly dissipated, and I found a sense of calm I hadn’t felt in years. Starting Therapy. Therapy became a crucial part of my growth. As soon as he moved out, I started therapy. We were in the throes of COVID-19 and I was working from home in a job that was coming to an end.  Grief and loss loomed over me—my partner, family members lost to the pandemic, and the shattering of the life I had imagined. In the beginning, I wasn’t entirely honest with my therapist—I know, who pays for help and decides to hide pertinent information from the person assigned to listen. I had convinced myself that I was managing just fine and didn't realize what I was doing. I was able to keep up the facade for a few months, because my girls needed me and my job kept me distracted. It wasn't until the job ended that reality came crashing down. I described it to my therapist as "... feeling like Superman ascending at the highest speed into the atmosphere, then suddenly feeling the effects of the loss of oxygen, and spiraling into a free fall. " I crashed so hard. Every day felt like my own personal nightmare as every suppressed emotion surfaced, demanding my attenion. It was a breaking point, but also a turning point. When I finally stopped pretending and let the pain flow, the healing began. I allowed myself to be honest about everything that had accumulated over the years, and it was only then that I started to reclaim myself . My Health Improved . The stress of my marriage had taken a physical toll on me, manifesting as frequent health flares that made waking up some days feel almost impossible. My body bore the weight of being in constant survival mode—always stuck between fight or flight. Being a single-married mother did that to me. Even though I technically had a partner, I was navigating life alone. I had been functioning like a single parent for so long that admitting it aloud wasn’t the shock I thought it would be. It took time to embrace my new reality, but once I did, I noticed my health improving slowly but significantly. The absence of constant tension brought a lightness back into my life. I slept better. I had more energy. I recognized myself again, feeling more present and capable of caring for my girls without the lingering stress that had once dominated our lives. I knew I made the right choice. The Thought of Dating Again . The idea of dating again felt daunting, almost unimaginable. I even considered not dating until my daughters were in high school, mostly out of fear. Even a year later, I still couldn’t wrap my head around the concept of opening myself up to someone new. Dating required a level of vulnerability I wasn’t ready to give. It felt like I’d have to vet any potential partner like the FBI and CIA combined, yet still find a way to let them in. That was a risk I wasn’t prepared to take with two little girls in the picture. I went on just a handful of dates before I realized that I wasn’t ready. My focus needed to stay on myself and my daughters, on rebuilding my life and finding stability before even considering inviting someone else into our world. I chose to embrace the peace that comes with being single. I learned that there is no rush, because love would find its way to me when I’m truly ready. For Us Gaining a New Perspective . A separation could have potentially been able to help resolve the issues in our marriage because the time apart gave us both a different perspective. Distance revealed things we couldn’t see when we were in the thick of it. Moving straight into a divorce shocked my system in some unexpected ways. During that time, I found myself replaying memories and reflecting on the choices we made. I couldn’t help but wonder how different things might have been if we had just taken a step back and given ourselves room to breathe and think separately. Sometimes, space allows you to see your partner differently—to understand their struggles from a distance, to feel empathy instead of frustration. I came to realize that our problems weren’t always about what he did or didn’t do, but rather how we both struggled to navigate life together.  In that quiet, reflective time, I started to see both of our flaws more clearly and learned to let go of some of the resentment I’d been holding onto. It wasn’t an easy process, but it was necessary for me to gain clarity and ultimately find a sense of peace . Co-Parenting Challenges and Successes . Navigating co-parenting was another hurdle, but we continued to put our children first. In the beginning, it felt almost impossible—figuring out schedules, communicating about the kids without falling into old arguments, and trying to present a united front despite our differences. I worried about how our daughters would adjust to living between two households. We eventually found our rhythm and established routines that kept the girls feeling grounded and secure, even when they struggled to adjust. There were moments when frustration crept in, but I learned to set my feelings aside when it came to co-parenting decisions. As time passed, I was so happy to see him grow as a parent, even though our partnership as spouses didn’t work out. The girls still had both of us, just in a different way. Acknowledging Our Growth . Even in the pain of divorce, we both grew. We learned and we found ways to move forward separately, still bound by the family we had created. We both had to confront uncomfortable truths about ourselves and how we contributed to the breakdown of our relationship. There were moments of guilt and regret on both sides, but also moments of understanding and acceptance. In the end, it wasn’t just about letting go of each other, but letting go of the expectations we had carried throughout our marriage. Though the path was painful, we emerged from it with a deeper sense of who we are—both as individuals and as co-parents. The family we built remains intact, just in a new form, and we continue to support each other when it comes to raising our daughters. It’s not perfect, but it’s real, and we’ve made peace with that. Moving Forward With Grace . Divorce is not just an ending; it’s a beginning. It’s a chance to rebuild, to redefine love and partnership, to rediscover yourself. My story is not just about the loss of a marriage—it’s about resilience, transformation, and the unexpected blessings that come from life’s storms. After two years of being apart, we decided to give our relationship another chance, and it has been the best decision of our lives. I still look back on my wedding day as a beautiful moment. It was a day of love, of hope, of promises made with the best intentions. And while my marriage didn’t last, I carry forward the lessons, the growth, and the understanding that sometimes, the greatest gift we can give ourselves is the freedom to start anew. (Photos by Erneil Johnny)

Your entryway sets the tone for your entire home. It’s the first impression guests have, and it’s the space where you transition from the outside world to the comfort of your own space. One of the most effective ways to enhance your entryway is through carefully chosen decor, and two popular options are mirrors and artwork. So let’s explore the merits of each to help decide which is best. Mirrors are timeless pieces of decor that offer both aesthetic appeal and practical benefits. Here are a few reasons why a mirror might be the perfect addition to your entryway: Create the Illusion of Space . Entryways are often smaller areas, and mirrors are excellent for making them appear larger and more spacious. A well-placed mirror can open up the area and create the illusion of depth. Maximize Light . Mirrors can also enhance natural light by reflecting it throughout the space. This can make your entryway feel brighter and more welcoming. Functional Style . Mirrors serve a practical purpose as well. They provide a quick spot to check your appearance before heading out the door, making them both stylish and functional. Mirrors placed at right angles to the door are considered good in feng shui for your entryway. Versatility . Mirrors come in a wide variety of shapes, sizes, and frames, allowing you to choose one that fits your entryway’s style perfectly. If you’re looking to infuse your entryway with personality and visual interest, artwork might be the way to go. Here’s why artwork could be the ideal choice for your entry: Express Your Style. Artwork is a fantastic way to showcase your personality and style right from the moment someone walks through your door. Whether you prefer bold and vibrant pieces or serene and calming ones, artwork allows you to express yourself. Add Color and Texture. Artwork can introduce color and texture to your entryway, making it more visually dynamic. A carefully chosen piece of art can tie together the entire space and serve as a focal point. Conversation Starter . A striking piece of artwork can be an excellent conversation starter for guests. Whether it’s a thought-provoking painting or a quirky sculpture, artwork can spark interesting discussions and leave a lasting impression. Customization . Artwork is highly customizable, allowing you to choose pieces that resonate with you and complement your home’s decor. Making Your Decision. Ultimately, whether you choose a mirror or artwork for your entryway depends on your personal preferences, the size and layout of your space, and the overall aesthetic you’re aiming for. Some homeowners even opt for a combination of both, using a mirror to maximize light and space and artwork to add personality and flair. When selecting either a mirror or artwork, consider the scale of your entryway, the existing decor in your home, and how you want the space to feel. Whether you go for the reflective charm of a mirror or the artistic allure of artwork, investing in your entryway decor is sure to make a lasting impact on both you and your guests. (Photo: Allisa Jacob’s , Blain Moats from Better Homes and Gardens)