Ten minutes. That’s all she missed her flight by. Ten minutes that shattered her plans, cracked open her dreams, and left her sitting at the gate, broken, until the news came in: the plane had crashed. The very flight she had begged to board was now gone.

We don’t often see it in the moment, when life closes a door, cancels a flight, reroutes us through chaos and confusion. It feels cruel. Personal. But what if the setback is really a setup? What if that delay, that detour, is divine protection in disguise?

On a frozen 1°C morning, I found myself navigating both foggy roads and foggier memories, a near-miss in India, a cancelled flight, a wild Uber ride, and an unexpected adventure that saved me from something I’ll never fully understand.

This blog is about more than missed flights or lucky escapes. It’s about the sacred pauses that feel like punishment but end up being our greatest protection. It’s about learning to trust the “no’s, the silences, the slammed doors, and knowing deep in your bones:

You’re not being denied. You’re being guided.

We often ask, “Why don’t men talk?” but maybe the better question is, “What were they taught?”

From the moment they’re told “boys don’t cry,” many men begin a lifelong habit of emotional suppression. Not because they lack feelings, but because they were never given permission to express them. Mental health struggles in men often wear masks: anger instead of grief, silence instead of sadness, overwork instead of overwhelm.

This blog uncovers what men are really suffering from, depression, anxiety, trauma, addiction, loneliness and how these struggles are shaped not by biology, but by culture. It explores how we can shift the narrative, starting in early childhood, and how redefining strength, modeling vulnerability, and creating safe spaces can help men finally be seen, heard, and healed.

Because men aren’t emotionless.
They’re unheard.
And it’s time we changed that.

Respect isn't a birthright tied to age, it’s a legacy built through empathy, humility, and the courage to listen. When cultures silence young voices to protect ego, they don’t preserve tradition, they betray it. True wisdom doesn’t demand reverence; it earns it. And the elders we remember with love aren’t the loudest, they’re the ones who made room for truth, even when it came from the smallest voice.

This one’s close to my heart. It’s about family, love, and simply showing up for the people who matter most. Thanks for being here and holding space for it - Tash