I hit the jackpot with grandparents. Three of them, to be exact, and they weren’t just family they were my sanctuary, my safety net, my very own fan club. But if we’re talking favourites (don’t tell the others), my maternal grandma Annie Elizabeth Boswick was my absolute ride-or-die. She was tiny garden gnome-sized, but don’t be fooled, her heart was big enough to house a small country. Which explains why clothes never seemed to fit her properly. Bless her.

From as far back as I can remember, I’ve always felt… different. Not “wears-a-cape-to-school” different, but more like “feels-things-and-sees-things-she-probably-shouldn’t” kind of different. I knew I was here for something. A purpose. A mission. Maybe not full-blown “chosen one” vibes, but definitely “slightly magical side character who helps the hero discover their powers” energy.

Let me take you back to when I first started meditating…