Photo by Sage Friedman on Unsplash

As I’m zeroing in on the end of my thirty-first year in life, I realized I’ve come to appreciate my birthday as a time to tie a red ribbon on the nearest tree branch to mark my arrival after which I will keep trekking on. A signal to myself that I’ve come this far with all the things I’ve learned in tow.

The thirties are a strange and wonderful decade in women’s lives. Once she crosses off that twenty ninth year, a woman goes through a sort of metamorphosis all while unaware. The twenties start representing a catalog where people…


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In the midst of all that’s happening in the world right now, I decided it would be a good idea to pick up a book that I already read a long time ago; a book that influenced me a great deal at the time but whose impact got so worn over the years to the point where I barely remembered what it was about.

The book is The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle.

Realizing that your life consists of tasks all devoid of real quality is a painful revelation to have. By quality I mean doing anything with purpose…


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Before I gave birth, I would usually spend around nine to ten hours at work. Not because I had to, but because I got sucked into the culture of needing to prove that work was more than it should be.

A culture where even if you’re a stellar employee churning out amazing work you’ll get side-lined by those too busy kissing big-level hiney to do half the work you do.

Where I work puts great value on work-aholism just like any modern corporation would. They provide you with everything you want so you barely have any reason to go home…


What weight-lifting taught me about hard work

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Before I got pregnant, work was just work.

I grudgingly wake up, get dressed, head to my office and wait for the day to end. I did the bare minimum because I did not see the point of doing more. Just show up, pretend you’re working hard, and then leave. The routine became mechanical, I stopped even wonder why I was so demotivated. Coupled with my pregnancy hormones and day-long fatigue, I was ready to start my maternity leave and just park it for a while. I wanted to do nothing.

After I…


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After a year and a half away from corporate life and thrown into the frightening abyss of new motherhood, I have returned to work last week.

Besides the guilt, anxiety, and excitement all rolled up into one, one thing needs to be mentioned. It’s insane how almost nothing changes while you’re gone. Of course save for all the new faces that look like they’re about eighteen years old making you feel like you’re on the verge of retirement at thirty and some of your friends that have left to pursue other opportunities. All those projects that I lost sleep over…


Can We Stop Vilifying Our Phones for One Minute?

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A couple of weeks ago I downloaded an application called Moment. What it does is help you set and achieve a goal of minimizing how long you look at your phone. Every time you pick up your phone it lets you know how many times today you had already picked it up. I downloaded it because I felt like I should cut down on my phone time. Although I’m not particularly bothered by how much I look at my phone, it has become this collective obligation that we look at our…


Photo by Yannic Läderach on Unsplash

Yesterday I went on a twelve hour flight with my sick one year old from Cairo to New York. Also, I was sick myself. We obviously caught the same bug who was adamant on sabotaging our trip. I had spent the better part of two days hunched over a toilet with a crying baby in the other room waiting for me to dress him so we can go to the ER. Making our flight seemed like a distant dream for a while. The universe was sending him and myself a gastric signal to stay caput. But am I one to…


Being a 30-year-old Third Culture Kid

Photo by Caroline Selfors on Unsplash

For as long as I can remember I believed I was a regulation introvert. I made peace with the fact that I was an anxiety-ridden stammering semi-socializer that needs to be placed in her solitudinous habitat in order to function. I was more of the reading and writing type, never the speaking type. So over years I resigned myself to my destined cozy introversion where I’d become so good at creating excuses out of thin air not to attend things (especially those that required meeting people for the first time, yikes).

Every once in…


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I only got five hours of sleep last night. That’s it, just five hours mainly because my one year old decided we should start the day earlier. But that does not necessarily mean he’s in a good mood. He’s fussy this morning and everything I do is not sitting well with him. I breastfeed him to settle him down (that’s my remedy for everything), I go make myself coffee. And since we’re starting the day an hour before we normally would, I’m grinding enough beans for an extra cup. I balance him on my hip so I can grab my…


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Just write one word after the next and magic will happen.

Let go of yourself to the story, it’s in there. Swimming among millions of thoughts, worries, fears. You can’t help but think about it all the time. It’s in you and it won’t release its grip until it’s fully manifested and living.

It’s a possession that can only be slowly exorcised by the daunting drag of pen on paper. It won’t budge, it will engulf everything that is your day. Your life. Your sleep. Characters will embody strangers you brush past on the street, the elevator, standing up there…

Nada Abdelmohsen

Mother. Nutritionist. Bookworm. I write when the baby sleeps. If I’m not cooking. Or eating.

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