Some days it is easy to share a smile. Other days, it feels like slaying dragons — hormones raging, cats barking, dogs meowing, the kettle screeching like a banshee, the toast burning itself, and your mug of freshly brewed tea has grown legs and run away. You want to be gracious, but your body’s running a fever that could power a small nation, your brain is jumping from tab to tab like a caffeinated squirrel, and someone — often the voice in your own head — is asking, “What’s for dinner?”

Kindness costs nothing.

But in the middle of the change, it sometimes feels like it costs everything you’ve got left. Sometimes it is easy, but most days it is HARD.

It costs nothing to smile. Nothing to say something kind. Nothing to hold back the sigh and offer grace instead, and yet, there are days when even that feels like climbing Everest in fluffy slippers. Hormones raging. Patience thinner than eyebrows in the ’90s. Energy tank flashing “empty", and your internal thermostat is set to inferno... 

Still — here’s the magic of it — kindness feeds you back. It softens your edges, calms the storm, and reminds you that you still have control… not over the chaos (good luck with that), but over how you show up in it. It is like a cooling breeze after a hot flash —  glorious.

People ... how they test your patience

Bless them. Testers of patience. Providers of lessons you never asked for. You try to be your best self — the glowing goddess of grace you read about in a magazine once, the one you always assumed your grandmother was (surely she never had checkout-line meltdowns?) Can't be, she was perfect — but then you’re in the queue at the Spar, and the cashier is moving at the pace of a tranquilized snail, and you can feel your inner volcano bubbling. You tap your foot. You sigh. And then you notice how tired she looks. You smile. She smiles back. And suddenly, the whole mood shifts — two tired women just making each other’s day a little softer, and the world seem gentler.

Or the neighbour — you know the one — who treats the public pavement in front of his house like his personal empire. One guest parks across the road and suddenly he’s standing guard like a grumpy garden gnome, puffed up with purpose. You could storm out and quote the Municipal Bylaws of 1978, or… you could take a deep breath, wave sweetly, and let him stew in his own self-importance. It’s amazing how peaceful life becomes when you stop auditioning for “Neighbour Wars: Suburb Edition.”

The endless group chats

A daily test of faith, patience, and data bundles. At all hours, your screen lights up with blurry greetings, chain prayers, and inspirational quotes about coffee. You could lose your mind — or, you could just send a heart emoji, put the phone face down, and protect your sanity.

(For the record, I do love the personal messages — the “thinking of you” ones. My emojis are heartfelt. I use them with meaning. Often. And dramatically.)

The “donkey’s butt” revelation

Now, before we all polish our halos, let’s be honest. We’re not always the kind ones. I am so guilty of people-watching and forming opinions faster than my brain can whisper, “Stop it.” I make up entire stories in my head — “Oh my gosh, what a donkey's butt” — when actually, I’m the donkey’s butt for judging someone whose name I don’t even know.

The truth? Everyone’s carrying something. Some people are just hanging on by a thread. The guy who smells bad at the gym — maybe he hasn’t had running water for a few days (we’ve all been there, thank you very much, load-shedding and burst pipes). The woman who bumped your car with her door in the parking lot might already be holding back tears from a day full of menopausal blunders — which, let’s be real, is a chapter all on its own. Grace isn’t just kindness to others; it’s kindness to yourself for the moments you forget it.

Animals: the ultimate tribe of kindness

Animals — my true kindness tribe. It is easy to be kind to them... so easy. Their love is pure, uncomplicated, and beautifully forgiving. I save ants from the bath, carry bees outside, and have shed tears over geckos who didn’t survive being the cat’s “presents.” I don't like talking much, it is an effort I would rather save, but I talk to my dogs, a lot! They listen better than any human. Animals never ghost you, gossip about you, or throw intentionally hurtful comments your way. They just are — little living reminders that love doesn’t need words.

But here’s the lovely twist — sometimes that same warmth finds you back in the most unexpected ways. Like when a stranger smiles at you for no reason, or maybe because they’ve noticed the peanut butter smear on your cheek, or the twig in your hair from climbing the tree (again) to rescue the cat... or the wine mustache from your cheeky lunch time glass. You laugh, they laugh, and for a second, it feels like the world has decided to be kind right back. It’s those tiny moments — where humour meets grace — that refill your tank faster than caffeine ever could.

Grace under hot-flashy fire

So yes, kindness costs nothing — but for women navigating this wild, hot-flashy season of life, it’s a heroic act.

It’s grace under hormonal fire. It’s the quiet “I’ll try again tomorrow” whispered when patience evaporates and sweat drips down your back for no reason. Because every time you choose kindness — toward the cashier, the neighbour, the group chat, the woman in the mirror — you take back a little of your own peace.

Take back your peace

So next time the road-rage rises, the notifications ping, the dishes call, or your patience is MIA — try kindness.

Not because they deserve it ... Because you do. Because kindness costs nothing … and it’s the richest kind of self-care there is.