This is Me & This is Us

If my children ever read the posts within my blog one day, I want them to feel like they’re sitting beside me at home, where everything is in its place, where every corner is shaped by love and a life lived fully.

My name is Natasha.

But I’ve been many versions of her:

The girl who felt deeply.

The young woman who tried to hold everything together.

The one who broke quietly more than once.

The one who picked up the pieces and kept moving forward, believing in the words of Rocky Balboa: “It ain't about how hard you hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and keep movin' forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done!”

I am a wife. Mark has been my best friend, my soulmate, since 2014, and my devoted husband since April 2018. He is my rock, my anchor, my light - even on the days when my laughter is purely contractual. I am his Deni-girl, and he is my sweet man: the King of our family, holding the steady heartbeat of our home.

I am a mother. We have our young men - two born to me, two chosen in love - and three incredible young women who have become part of the rhythm of our lives. One of them shares our home as her own, bringing her warmth and spirit into every corner of our lives. Together, we are a patchwork of love and laughter, of disagreements and reconciliations, of quiet moments and loud celebrations - all the messy, beautiful, real life in between.

I have known joy so full it felt like sunlight pouring through my entire being. I have known uncertainty that kept me awake all night. I have known love that steadied me. And fear, and loss, that reshaped me. All of it belongs here.

I am not writing these words because I have it all figured out. I am writing because I am walking it, moment by moment, feeling it all - the ups, the downs, and everything in between, from the small victories to the lessons learned along the way.

I want my children to know who I was becoming while they were growing - in the laughter, the disagreements, the long talks that stretched late into the night, the celebrations, and the ordinary moments that carried meaning. Behind every shared meal, every story told, every lesson learned together, was a woman still discovering herself.

I want them to know that family is not built on perfection, but on returning - returning to the table, returning after conflict, returning to each other again and again, even when the world feels unbearably loud. But returning is not a blind act. It asks us to listen to our hearts, to release our stubbornness, to weigh our courage against our boundaries, and to know when coming back heals - and when stepping away is the bravest choice.

And if you are reading this and are not my child, know that you are welcome here too. These words are for anyone who has loved deeply, stumbled quietly, risen again, and wondered if they were doing enough - for anyone seeking a little light in the midst of life’s shadows.

This is me.

This is us.

Imperfect. Growing. Becoming. Together.

For those struggling to fit into society’s labels of 'typical' perfection instead of embracing their own perfectly imperfect uniqueness, may these words remind you that your story, in all its messy, beautiful raw realness, matters.

Love, light, & peace, 

Tash xo