BENEATH THE QUIET HOURS

There is something slightly concerning… and also slightly beautiful…about discovering that you actually enjoy talking to yourself, like really enjoy it, not small-small talking, full conversations, deep ones. Emotional ones. Confusing ones. The kind where you are the speaker… the listener… the therapist… and sometimes… the problem 😭 The Day I Discovered Writing...... ✍️  When MacB discovered writing, something clicked, not a small click. A “oh wow… this is actually my thing” kind of click, because suddenly… everything became a conversation, not with people, but with herself. The Funniest Part? 😂😂  Sometimes MacB is writing…and she’s smiling like someone just told her a joke. Other times???? She’s writing and crying like she just unlocked a memory she didn’t order, and then there are those special moments…where she is talking to herself… and not even listening to herself 😭😂 Like: “Okay MacB, let’s be serious now” starts writing something else completely unrelat...

By MacB 😌 There are people living normal lives…and then there is MacB. Living in a body where meetings are happening daily… aggressively… without permission… and clearly without leadership 😭 * No agenda. * No structure. * No peace. Just symptoms… and vibes. Welcome to the Group Chat Let’s introduce the chaos committee: Endometriosis – the quiet one… but dangerous. Doesn’t talk much, but when it does? It speaks fluent PAIN. Hormonal imbalance – the emotional one. Overreacts, underreacts, cries, laughs, and confuses everybody… including MacB. Ovarian cysts – the unpredictable one. Calm today, chaos tomorrow. A full-time plot twist. AND THEN… THE PLOT TWIST NOBODY ORDERED Let’s talk about the main character of suffering: Heavy, painful bleeding… for 48 DAYS. Yes. Forty. Eight. Days. 😭 At this point, it’s no longer a “period.” This is a full-time job with no salary, no leave days, and zero benefits. MacB’s New Lifestyle (Sponsored by Bleeding 😭) - Wake up → check - Sit down...

There is a quiet lesson hidden in something very ordinary: standing in a queue. At the bank, at the supermarket, at the airport, or waiting for food at a busy restaurant. Everyone is standing there, some calm, some impatient, some counting the heads in front of them like mathematicians calculating their chances of survival. And then there is always that one person, the one who sighs loudly, one who keeps peeking around people’s shoulders, who complains every three seconds as if complaining will magically open a new counter. “My number is too far,” they say. But here is the truth that many people miss in life: As long as the queue is moving, your position does not matter, your turn will come. Life works exactly like that queue some, people arrive early and others arrive late. Some people somehow look like they skipped the line completely, and yes, that can be annoying, but the real question is not “Where am I in the line?” the real question is: “Is the line moving?” b ecause if it is mo...

Once upon a time, I was that person, the one who made plans… and actually showed up, early, smiling ready and excited. Brunch? I’m there. Beach day? Already packed. Random “let’s just go out”? I’m already dressed. Life was spontaneous, joyful and honestly… a little loud in the best way. Then came this thing, not just pain, not just discomfort. No… Endometriosis didn’t just hurt me; it quietly rewrote me. Now I’m also that person… but a different version: The one who says “yes” today and cancels tomorrow. The one who types “on my way” and then disappears like a magician. The one who wants to show up… but her body says, “not today, babe.” And the worst part????????? People think I have changed because I don’t care anymore .... 😂😂😂 If only they knew......If only they knew that behind every cancelled plan is a whole internal war, a negotiation between “I miss my life” and “I physically can’t move.” a silent apology I never know how to fully explain. It’s actually funny somet...

Today I woke up scared, not the kind that you shake off with a cup of coffee or a hot shower, the kind that sits quietly in your chest… asking questions you don’t want to answer. I woke up thinking, I woke up wondering… what has life become?????? THE WORLD DOES NOT PAUSE (AND THAT’S THE SCARIEST PART) Recently, the stories have been everywhere, Men, Women and Children, no one is untouched anymore, every day, it’s something new,  Another headline, another whisper, another “did you hear what happened?” and like clockwork… the blame begins, some blame the government, some blame partners, some blame jealousy, others blame poverty, lack of jobs, stress, anger, curses, anything that helps us make sense of something that doesn’t make sense at all. At this point, blame has become a full-time job…with zero results, because while we argue about why…, people are still dying. Let’s be honest, uncomfortably honest, the world has become a place where human life feels… cheap, negotiable, replacea...

There are pains that scream, and then there are pains that whisper, quiet, persistent, and invisible to the world. Endometriosis is that kind of pain, it does not always announce itself loudly, but it settles deep within the body and stays, stretching its shadow across days, weeks, sometimes even months. For many, a “period” is described as discomfort, for someone living with endometriosis, it can feel like a battle inside your own body, a battle that does not end when the bleeding stops, because sometimes… the bleeding doesn’t stop at all. You spoke about bleeding for over 30 days, that is not just “a long period.” that is exhaustion, weakness, emotional strain, and fear combined into one experience, it is waking up every morning already tired, it is planning your life around painkillers, pads, and the nearest place you can sit down when the cramps become unbearable. The Pain No One Sees.......Endometriosis pain is not ordinary cramping, it can feel like: - Sharp, stabbing...

  If you get a chance, ask your mom how she is doing. Not just the polite “How are you?” that floats by unnoticed, but the kind of question that stops time. Sit with her. Watch her hands as she talks, the ones that have held you, cooked for you, wiped your tears, and carried burdens she would never tell anyone about. Ask her how she feels, not physically, but in her heart, ask her about the days she felt alone, the nights she stayed awake worrying, the dreams she set aside to make yours possible. One day, she may not be there, and you will ache for the simple chance to ask, to hug, to tell her you noticed, you appreciated her, you loved her. If you get a chance, ask your dad how he is doing. Ask him about the quiet sacrifices no one applauds, the long hours, the missed celebrations, the dreams he tucked away so that you could have yours, ask him about the nights he felt fear and uncertainty but never showed it. Ask him about the regrets he may carry silently, and the moments of joy...

People love saying things that sound wise when they have never walked through your storms. Things like Leave the past in the past, Focus on the future or Just move on. Simple words, easy words, words usually spoken by people who never had to sit alone in a room with their chest heavy, their eyes swollen, and their soul questioning everything. They say leave the past in the past because they do not know how expensive that past was, they do not know the nights when the room became a witness to your tears, the nights when the door was locked, the lights were off, and the only thing louder than the silence was your heartbeat trying to hold itself together. They don’t know how many times you wiped your tears, looked in the mirror, and practiced a smile before walking out like everything was fine, because sometimes survival is not about winning, sometimes survival is about pretending long enough until the world stops asking questions. The Meetings Behind Closed Doors, people thin...

       There is a pain that is sharp and immediate, the kind that comes from enemies, strangers, and people who never pretended to care. That pain is easy to understand, when someone who dislikes you hurts you, the mind prepares for it. The heart accepts it, the wound is clean, almost logical. But betrayal… betrayal is a different kind of injury. It is not the stab at the back that kills you, it is the moment you turn around and see who is holding the knife, because in that moment, the world rearranges itself in ways you never imagined. The face you trusted, the voice that comforted you, the hands you once shook with loyalty, suddenly become the same hands that delivered the wound, and that realisation is what truly breaks something inside you. You see, enemies don’t sit at your table, they don’t laugh at your jokes, they don’t hear your fears, your dreams, your struggles, but the people who betray you???? they knew everything, they knew where you were fr...