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Showing posts from February, 2026

Things That Are “Therapeutic” But Aren’t

I know the title sounds confusing, but hear me out. Some activities have been aggressively marketed as therapeutic and sanative —like they’re one yoga mat away from fixing your life. But in reality? Those same activities often send you into an emotional spiral you did not sign up for. This isn’t a self-care guide. It’s more of a reality check: a list of things that are supposed to help you heal but somehow end up making your emotional state worse than it already was. To make my thesis make sense, let me give some examples. Organising Organising starts as a “clean space, clean mind” situation and ends with you sitting on the floor at 1 a.m., holding random objects and questioning your entire personality. Every single time I start cleaning; organising drawers, dusting cabinets, rearranging shelves, I crash out. Never in my life—not once—have I been peaceful pre-, mid-, or post-cleaning. If anything, I come out more overstimulated and emotionally unstable than I went in. Whoever came up...

More Than Just a Chromebook: A Lesson Beyond the Syllabus

School’s back after winter break, and with it comes a pile of notifications, assignments, and… surprises. One of the first posts on Google Classroom caught my eye: something called “Chromebook Registration.” At first glance, it looked like one of those posts you skim, think “I’ll do it later,” and then promptly forget exists. I didn’t even open it properly. Obviously, because I’m lazy in a very academically strategic way. Ironically, that laziness may have saved my Chromebook. Some students, however, were far more responsible than me. They followed the instructions immediately. A few hours later, the same students were sending screenshots in the group chat—screenshots of restricted settings, blocked access, and a sudden realization that their personal Chromebooks no longer felt very personal. That’s when things started to feel… off. A few days later, teachers started asking who had completed the registration. A handful of us—four or five girls—admitted we hadn’t. Not out of defiance,...