Alina’s Sparkle Quest

14/07/2025

Wishing you a great Monday

12/07/2025

Happy Saturday 🙂
Photo by wildheart_500

04/07/2025

Happy Saturday 🥰

02/07/2025

Today, I did something that left me shaking—I called the police.
I heard something through the walls I cannot un-hear. Sounds that shouldn’t exist in any home. Cries that cut through the noise of daily life and reached somewhere deep inside me. Violence. Real, terrifying violence. And I knew I had to act.

Domestic violence is happening in our communities—quietly, violently, tragically.
And too often, it’s ignored. Brushed aside. Justified. Minimized.
But today I was faced with its full reality, and I couldn’t walk past it. Not this time.

What I heard wasn’t just a fight—it was pain layered with fear, silence thick with dread, and a person trapped in a place that should have been safe.

I want to say something to anyone living in this reality:
You are not meant to endure this.
You are not to blame.
You deserve protection, support, and dignity.

I see you.
Even if no one else has noticed your bruises—physical or emotional.
Even if you’ve been told to stay silent, to be ashamed, to “make it work.”

I see your strength—even in survival.
I see your courage—even when you feel defeated.

Whether you are a woman or a man—this pain is not yours to carry alone.
You are not weak for wanting peace.
You are not dramatic for calling for help.
You are not alone.

If you’re living with someone who harms you—emotionally, physically, psychologically—please know this:

🌿 You can leave.
🌿 You can speak out.
🌿 You can rebuild.

Yes, it’s terrifying. Yes, it’s messy. Yes, it can feel like you’ll lose everything.
But staying will cost you even more.
Your light. Your laughter. Your health. Your future.

And to those of us who hear it, sense it, witness it from the sidelines—we cannot afford to look away.

I felt scared making that call. I questioned myself. I worried I might be overstepping.
But that moment was not about me. It was about someone who needed protection.
Someone who might not survive another night.

That call could be the turning point.
That call could be the beginning of a safer life.
That call could save them.

We must change how we respond to domestic violence.
We must talk about it—not just in hushed tones, not just after tragedy. But loudly, compassionately, and consistently.

We must create communities where people feel safe to run, safe to speak, safe to heal.
Where silence doesn’t win. Where compassion overrides discomfort.

I will not pretend this is easy. It isn’t.
It’s heavy. It’s emotional.
But it’s too important to ignore.

So this is me, choosing to speak up.
Choosing to say—enough is enough.

To anyone who’s hurting:
You don’t have to stay.
You don’t have to survive alone.
You don’t have to hide.

You are worthy of protection, of advocacy, of love that doesn’t leave you wounded.

Please reach out. Please run. Please fight for your life—because it is sacred.
And please know: when you’re ready, there will be hands reaching out to catch you.

29/06/2025

Wishing you a great Monday!

26/06/2025

🌿 Soft beginnings… 🌿

I’ve decided to start sharing personal stories—reflections on self-care, everyday kindness, and those little turning points that quietly reshape a life. You’ll find them here on my page and over on Medium too.

If any of my words bring you a moment of calm or connection, I’d love for you to follow along. And if you ever feel like fuelling my writing with a coffee, you can do that here: http://coff.ee/ali86 ☕✨

Your support—whether it’s a like, a read, or a quiet moment spent with my writing—means more than you know 💛

Thank you

Hi. I'm passionate about self-care and sharing real stories that uplift and inspire. Through my Medium articles ,I aim to help readers find balance, hope ,and connection in everyday life. Your support

26/06/2025

Being Vulnerable—At What Cost?

I’ve asked myself this question more than once—sometimes at work, sometimes in quieter moments when no one’s watching. Vulnerability has never been easy for me. Like many of us, I was taught that competence meant composure, that professionalism meant never cracking, never showing the tremble behind the voice or the worry tucked beneath the smile.

And so, I wore the mask. Smiled in meetings while mentally juggling the hundred things that were falling apart. Nodded along when someone interrupted, even when I wanted to speak up. Said “all good” when my chest was tight with things unsaid. I became fluent in the language of self-containment.

But here’s the part no one tells you: silence carries its own cost.

The energy spent pretending everything is fine robs us of the chance to be real—and to be heard. When we keep our struggles hidden, we miss the opportunity to connect, to receive support, to grow through honesty instead of stumbling through isolation. There’s a certain kind of loneliness that comes with looking like you’ve got it all together.

I started learning—slowly—that vulnerability doesn’t mean unraveling. It’s not about making every conversation a confession or placing the weight of your world on someone else’s shoulders. It’s about letting yourself be seen—not just the polished parts, but the tender ones too.

And surprisingly, when I let down the walls just a little, the world didn’t fall apart. In fact, things got better. Colleagues responded with warmth. Hard conversations became easier. I began to breathe more freely, no longer bracing myself behind a curtain of perfection.

There are costs to being vulnerable, of course. Not everyone will handle your honesty gently. Some may misinterpret it. Some may not be ready for it. But I’ve come to believe the greater loss is in not trying at all.

Because being vulnerable isn’t just about what you risk—it’s about what you gain: authentic relationships, mutual respect, and a workplace where showing up as your full self isn’t a liability, but a strength.

So if you’ve been wondering when to speak up, when to ask for help, when to admit that you’re not okay… maybe this is your gentle nudge.

Maybe it’s okay to be seen—not just as capable, but as human.

20/06/2025

20/06/2025

01/06/2025

My Sunday 🥹