Jacky's Corner

  I used to be the person who clung to bad deals, flaky people, and dead-end situations because I thought "commitment" meant suffering through it. If a tailor overcharged me, I’d pay anyway "Maybe his work is just that good." If a contractor ghosted me for weeks, I’d chase him 🏃 "He’s just busy, right?" If a buyer left me on read, I’d hold my stock for months "What if he comes back tomorrow?" but he never did. Then one day, I hit my breaking point. I was exhausted 😫from making excuses for people who didn’t deserve them. I realized: Loyalty shouldn’t mean self-sabotage. So I tried something radical I started saying "Next!" and having the resources (funds, connections etc) affords you the luxury. I walked out on t he tailor who charged triple for basic adjustments and found another who did better work for half the price , t urns out, expensive doesn’t always mean better . I fired the contractor who a lways had a "big...

  Patience is not my superpower. When I take action on something finish a task, send an email, or move a project forward I feel that rush of accomplishment. Done. Check. mark. Progress. But then… the waiting begins. And suddenly, my calm, capable self starts unraveling. Why hasn’t this person responded? Do they not care? Should I just do it myself? My inner monologue turns into a frantic courtroom drama where I’m both the accuser and the defendant. And after days sometimes weeks of simmering then, like clockwork just as I’m drafting my third “gentle reminder ” the universe laughs. A response appears. The task gets done. The world keeps spinning. Without my micromanagement. Every. Single . Time. It’s humbling , hilarious , and a little infuriating. But here’s what I’m learning: My frustration isn’t really about the other person’s timeline. It’s about my relationship with control. I crave momentum, certainty, and closure all noble things! But life doesn't operate on my ...

  For a while now, owning my home has been a cornerstone of my financial independence goals a tangible milestone on my path to freedom. And now, here I am, on the verge of turning that dream into reality. Yet, despite all the planning and saving, I’ll admit: Taking the leap feels scary. But you know what? I’m choosing to celebrate that fear because it means I care deeply about my future. Money isn’t just numbers to me; it represents security, hard work, and the power of choice. So, of course, spending a significant amount (even for something as meaningful as a home) can feel like stepping off a ledge. That resistance? It’s not weakness it’s proof that I’m thoughtful, intentional, and respect the value of what I’ve built. Instead of letting hesitation hold me back, I’m re framing this project as the ultimate act of self-trust. This isn’t just spending it’s investing. Unlike fleeting purchases, a home grows in value over time, both financially and emotionally. Whenever...

  We all have that person the one who’s full of big ideas, infectious energy, and good intentions yet leaves you guarding your peace. For me, it’s a really well-meaning relative. H e dreams boldly, jumps from venture to venture, and genuinely wants me to thrive. But over time, I’ve noticed the cracks: the half-truths, the blurred lines, the quiet tension when I don’t protect what’s mine. He isn’t malicious. But trust isn’t just about intent it’s about consistency. And when small lies slip in or boundaries flex too far, self-preservation kicks in. I’ve learned: first of all g ood people can still drain you , Love them, but don’t loan them your peace. Secondly, n o is a complete sentence , Boundaries aren’t cruel they’re survival , finally I w atch feet, not lips i f actions don’t match words, I believe the actions. I still value him. But I no longer confuse loyalty with unlimited access. Some dances require space and that’s okay.