Tag: life

Cancer Is a Monster: Declare It a National Disaster

Standing with Biez Kaviru, Elizabeth Johnstone writes to the President of Kenya to say what many are afraid to: cancer is bankrupting families, breaking spirits, and it must be treated as a national emergency.

Your Excellency,

I write this letter in support of Biez Kaviru. I also stand in solidarity with thousands of Kenyans who are quietly carrying a cancer diagnosis. They are fighting battles no one sees.

The moment a person is told they have cancer, life fractures.

Before the body begins treatment, the mind and spirit start to grieve.

People grieve the life they knew.

They grieve certainty.

They grieve plans they trusted—education, careers, businesses, retirement, and time itself.

Cancer does not only attack the body.

It invades the psyche.

It dismantles families.

It drains savings accumulated over decades.

It converts hope into hospital visits and calendars into scan dates.

For many Kenyans, cancer is not just a medical condition—it is a financial death sentence.

Your Excellency, cancer must be recognized for what it truly is:

a national disaster.

And like any national disaster, its response can’t be optional, charitable, or dependent on personal wealth.

Cancer treatment must be accessible, fair, and free.

No citizen should have to choose between treatment and poverty.

No family should have to sell land, exhaust pensions, or crowd-fund dignity.

No parent should die knowing their children’s future was traded for chemotherapy.

Equally urgent is how we speak about cancer.

Before anyone casually explains how cancer “kills,” I ask this: pause.

People are listening.

People are living with diagnoses they have not shared.

People are fighting psychological wars while appearing strong in public.

Words spoken without compassion can wound deeper than the disease itself.

Not every conversation requires commentary.

Not every tragedy needs an opinion.

If you have nothing informed, supportive, or humane to say—

say nothing at all.

This is not fear-mongering.

This is reality.

Cancer patients are not statistics.

They are parents, workers, caregivers, entrepreneurs, and nation-builders.

They are citizens who deserve to live—and to be treated with dignity while fighting to do so.

Your Excellency, Kenya can’t continue to outsource survival to chance, charity, or privilege.

A nation is measured by how it protects its most vulnerable.

Cancer care is not a luxury.

It is a right.

Respectfully,

Elizabeth Johnstone

Dear Teen : A Letter About Budget, Money, and Starting Early

A mother shares valuable lessons on budgeting with her daughter, emphasizing that money management is about making intentional decisions rather than restrictions. She encourages early learning to avoid stress, promoting the idea that budgets can bring clarity and control. Her goal is to empower her daughter to be confident and free with money.

Dear Lovely Daughter,

I want to talk to you about something important.
Money. But not in a scary way.

I introduced you to budgeting not because I have everything figured out—but because I’m still learning too.

Some of the lessons I’m sharing with you come from my finance coach. I admire Dave Ramsey deeply. I’ve picked up simple, practical truths from him—things I wish I had learned much earlier in life. I’m passing them on to you because I want better for you.

For a long time, I thought a budget meant saying no to everything fun.
I thought it meant restriction.
I was wrong.

A budget is simply a plan.
It’s deciding before the month starts what matters most to you.

One important lesson that I learned is this: You must tell your money what to do. Otherwise, you will wonder where it went.

There is no neutral with money.

I want you to start early because I didn’t.

I learned through mistakes, stress, and anxiety I wish I could undo.
You don’t need to struggle first to become wise.
You can learn early—and move smarter.

When you sit down and write things out—your income, your expenses, your goals—something beautiful happens.

The fog clears.
The anxiety drops.
You feel calmer.

Not because you suddenly have more money,
but because you can finally see where it’s going.

Clarity brings calm.
Calm brings control.

Your first budget was not be perfect.
Mine was worse . So you beat me hands down.

And that’s normal.

A budget is not a test you pass or fail.
It’s a draft.
It gets better every month you use it.

Adjusting doesn’t mean you failed.
It means life happened—and you responded wisely.

That’s not weakness.
That’s growth.

There is also no “right” speed in life.

Once you understand your numbers, you get to choose the pace.
You can save more.
You can spend less.
Or you can do both for a season.

Your budget gives you the power to decide.

I’m not teaching you budgeting to control you.
I’m teaching you so money never controls you.

I want you to grow up confident, not confused.
Intentional, not anxious.
Free, not fearful.

And I want you to know this—I’m walking this journey with you.
Learning. Adjusting. Growing.

I’m sharing what I’m learning. This includes lessons from people wiser than me. I want you to start where I didn’t get the chance to.

I just want you to do better than I did.
And to start earlier than I did.

With love,
Mom 💙

Wordflow Studio Closing

At Wordflow Studio, we believe clarity changes lives.
Sometimes healing looks like boundaries.
Sometimes growth looks like budgeting.
And sometimes love looks like teaching your child what you had to learn the hard way.

This letter is part of my journey—learning, unlearning, and choosing intention over anxiety.
If this spoke to you, share it with someone you love, especially a teen

Let’s raise a generation that is confident with money, calm with choices, and free with intention.

Written by Elizabeth Mwende Johnstone
Founder, Wordflow Studio
✍🏽 Healing Through Words

Dear Teen : A Letter About Budget, Money, and Starting Early

Elizabeth Johnstone's avatar

Elizabeth Johnstone

Healing Your Inner Child: Sometimes It’s as Simple as Buying Yourself Ribena

Mwende Musyoka, now 38 and living in the USA, listens to the little girl she once was — the one who spent her days fetching firewood, walking to the river for water, feeding cows, and raising six younger siblings.

That child didn’t ask for much.
Just Ribena.
Or even Fanta Orange — something cold after carrying a life that wasn’t meant for a child.

This is a reminder that small childhood desires often hold deep emotional weight. In the diaspora, healing sometimes looks like self-reparenting — finally giving yourself what scarcity once denied.

Because honoring those small wants is how we bridge our past and present selves.

When your inner child finally gets a say

It’s winter, and I walked myself into Starbucks for my favorite latte.
Before I order, I noticed a child sipping a drink I once wished for.

And just like that, my inner child started talking.

She wanted Ribena.

I paused. Memories rushed in — long days, small bodies carrying big responsibilities. Fetching firewood. Walking to the river for water. Feeding cows. Looking after six younger siblings. Thirst that went beyond water. Wanting something small and sweet, and knowing better than to ask.

I canceled my order.

I crossed the road, walked into Walmart, and bought myself Ribena — in the middle of winter.

That was it.
That’s all my inner child wanted.

On a normal day, catch me dead drinking processed stuff. But this moment wasn’t about nutrition or discipline. It was about listening. About honoring a need that had gone unmet for years.

And in that quiet act, something clicked.

The Quiet Grief of Small Wants

When we talk about childhood wounds, we often name the big things — neglect, abandonment, trauma, assault. But many of us who grew up in Kenyan homes carry a quieter grief.

The snack you wanted but couldn’t have.
The drink you saw but never tasted.
The day you were too tired to be a child.

These moments didn’t break us.
But they shaped us.

We learned early to downplay desire. To survive before we could dream. To say “it’s okay” even when it wasn’t.

And those lessons don’t disappear just because we grow up or move abroad.

Self-Reparenting in the Diaspora

Living in the diaspora gives you access to things your younger self could only imagine. Yet many of us still live with invisible rules of scarcity.

Self-reparenting doesn’t have to be dramatic.

Sometimes it looks like:

  • Canceling the latte
  • Buying the Ribena
  • Letting yourself want without explaining
  • Meeting a need without guilt

I’ve been to therapy many times, for many things.
But that day, I chose a different kind of healing.

I listened.

Why the Small Things Heal the Deepest Wounds

When you honor your inner child — even in simple ways — you send a powerful message:

You matter. Your needs were valid. You don’t have to earn care anymore.

These small acts calm the nervous system. They replace lack with safety. They build trust between who you were and who you are now.

Healing doesn’t always come from unpacking the past.
Sometimes it comes from responding to it with kindness.

So… What Does Your Inner Child Want?

Maybe it’s Ribena.
Maybe it’s rest.
Maybe it’s joy without justification.
Maybe it’s permission to be soft.

Whatever it is — listen.

Healing doesn’t always roar.
Sometimes it whispers.

A Word from Wordflow Studio

At Wordflow Studio, we believe healing doesn’t have to be loud or performative. Sometimes it’s quiet. Ordinary. Personal.

Sometimes, healing looks like giving yourself what no one could give you then — because now, you can.

Ask yourself today:

What does my inner child want — and how can I show up for them?

Author: Elizabeth Mwende Johnstone Musyoka
Brand: Wordflow Studio
Healing through words. Power through clarity.

    And When You Finally Make It, Change your environment.

    Elizabeth M. Johnstone discusses the complexities of personal growth, emphasizing that evolving into a higher self often necessitates letting go of old attachments. Women, conditioned to prioritize loyalty, may struggle against familiar environments that stifle progress. Embracing change requires courage and reflection, urging individuals to prioritize alignment and their future desires over past comforts.

    By Elizabeth M. Johnstone, Wordflow Studio

    Where healing meets clarity. Where growth meets truth.

    There’s a quiet grief that comes with becoming a higher version of yourself.
    Not because growth is wrong. It often asks you to loosen your grip on people, places, and patterns. These once felt like home.

    Many women are taught to endure, to stay loyal, to make themselves smaller for harmony. But the truth is this: staying attached to what no longer aligns can slowly cost you who you are becoming.

    Here’s why outgrowing your comfort zone isn’t betrayal — it’s evolution.

    1. Your Environment Remembers Who You Used to Be

    When you rise, your old environment keeps replaying your past mistakes. It doesn’t see the private discipline, the silent growth, the inner rewiring. It remembers the version of you that struggled openly. That memory limits how far they believe you can go. Sometimes, growth requires entering spaces where your future speaks louder than your past.

    2. Familiarity Often Erodes Respect

    Respect needs space to breathe. People who saw your lowest moments feel entitled to speak to you without care. As a woman stepping into authority, distance isn’t pride — it’s protection. You don’t owe accessibility to everyone who knew you before you evolved.

    3. Your Growth Triggers Unresolved Insecurities

    Your progress becomes a mirror. And not everyone is ready to face what it reflects. When others haven’t confronted their own stagnation, your expansion can feel threatening. Support cools, encouragement fades, and criticism creeps in. This isn’t about you — it’s about what they haven’t healed.

    4. Old Circles Protect Old Versions of You

    Every environment has unspoken rules. When you change, you break them. Growth disrupts comfort, and groups may try to pull you back — not out of cruelty, but out of familiarity. You do not have to stay the same so others can stay comfortable.

    5. Jealousy Lives Closest

    Envy rarely comes from strangers. It often comes from those who know your story, your flaws, your vulnerabilities. When you outgrow shared limitations, comparison sneaks in quietly. Not all resistance is loud — some of it shows up as silence, distance, or subtle withdrawal.

    6. Comfort Softens Your Edge

    Comfort removes urgency. When everything feels familiar, standards slowly slip. For women conditioned to focus on peace, growth often requires intentional discomfort. Expansion needs pressure — not constant ease.

    7. Loyalty Without Growth Becomes Self-Betrayal

    Blind loyalty keeps women stuck. Staying out of guilt, history, or emotional attachment can cost you your future. Loyalty is only honorable when it is mutual, respectful, and aligned with growth. Anything else is obligation disguised as virtue.

    8. Your Environment Shapes Your Identity

    Your thoughts, language, and sense of possibility are shaped by what surrounds you daily. Stay where small thinking is normal, and you’ll shrink to fit. Place yourself in environments that stretch you, and evolution becomes inevitable.

    The Wordflow Truth

    You don’t outgrow people by accident.
    You outgrow them because your future requires a higher version of you. This version chooses alignment over attachment. They choose purpose over comfort. They also choose growth over familiarity.

    Your Invitation

    Pause and ask yourself:
    Where am I staying out of habit instead of alignment?
    Who am I being loyal to at the expense of my own becoming?

    Give yourself permission to grow — even if it means leaving what once felt safe.
    Your next chapter begins with your choice.

    — Wordflow Studio
    Healing through words. Power through clarity

    The Day I Learned Cash Back Isn’t Free Money In America : Lessons For New Immigrants

    The author shares a humorous story about her experience as a fresh immigrant in America, focusing on a misinterpretation of “cash back” at Walmart. Initially thrilled by the perceived gift of free money, she later discovers it results in overdraft fees and financial lessons. Ultimately, she embraces her mistakes as part of her journey.

    If you ever want to know how life humbles people, talk to a fresh immigrant in America. Ask them about their first “cash-back” experience. No, really, don’t ask about the Statue of Liberty, the snow, or the burgers. Ask about that fateful day when they learned that “cash back” is not free money. Because baby, that’s when you meet America for real.

    The Day My Account Screamed “Overdraft”

    I remember it like it was yesterday. I woke up. I opened my banking app with the confidence of a CEO checking profits. There it was, NEGATIVE BALANCE.
    A red number. With a minus sign. The kind of number that makes your heart skip, your stomach drop, and your ancestors whisper, “Didn’t we warn you?”

    I was cooked.
    Actually, no, I was fried. Deep fried. Kentucky fried. Emotionally battered and financially toasted.

    My account said –$34.21, but my soul said “overdrafted by life.”

    Let’s Rewind to the Scene of the Crime: Walmart

    A week before that tragic day, I was feeling good. Fresh immigrant vibes. My documents were finally sorted, I had my first American debit card, and I was out shopping for “essentials.” You know the likes of detergent and toothpaste. I also bought five different snacks I didn’t need. They later made me add unwanted pounds to my already overweight body. I also bought a 24-pack of bottled water. Initially, American tap water tasted like disappointment. It’s a different story now. I literally drink straight from the tap.

    At checkout, the cashier, a cheerful woman with a “Linda” nametag and a smile that screamed “Welcome to Capitalism!” looked at me and asked, “Do you want cash back?”

    Now, let me explain something. In my mind, cash back sounded like the American dream. I mean, who doesn’t like free things? “Buy and get cash back”? Say less!

    I stared at her in disbelief. “Wait, I can get money? Like… free money?”

    She smiled again. “Yes, cash back.”

    I didn’t even hesitate. “Yes! Of course. Please.”

    “How much?”

    I panicked, I didn’t want to sound greedy. “Uhm… $40 is fine,” I said. But the way I pronounced forty instead of forry made us take an extra minute to understand each other. Yooh! The accent was (and still is) very real! 😅

    She typed it in. The machine beeped. And boom! She handed me $40 in crisp bills. Just like that.

    I smiled the whole way home. America was truly the land of opportunity. They literally give you money for shopping. I even promised myself loyalty: I will never go to any other store. Walmart, my ride or die. 🥹

    The Week of Blissful Ignorance

    That week, I became a loyal Walmart warrior. Every visit, I’d confidently say “Yes” to the cash-back question. Sometimes $20, sometimes $40 depending on how rich I felt that day.
    I started calling it my “side hustle.” My friends would talk about working extra shifts and I’d say,

    “Me, I just go to Walmart.”

    Life was sweet. I had cash in my wallet, snacks in my pantry, and absolutely no clue what overdraft meant.

    Reality Check: When the Bank Fights Back

    Then one fateful morning, my bank decided it was time for enlightenment. I checked my balance expecting to see a healthy number. But no. It was negative. In bold red font. My bank even added a sad face emoji (okay, maybe it was my imagination).

    I refreshed. Closed the app. Reopened it. Still negative.

    That’s when I called customer service.

    “Hi, this is Elizabeth,” I said, trying to sound calm.

    “Yes, Elizabeth,” replied a polite voice. “How can we help?”

    “My account is… um… negative. But I should have cash. Yesterday was my pay day”

    The kind lady on the other end checked my account. She politely informed me that my paycheck had come through. It only managed to pay off part of my negative balance. This left me still owing the bank. In shock, I quickly told her that I hadn’t withdrawn or spend more money from the account than I had received. In my head I was like dude am an accountant . That’s when she mentioned the “cash back,” and I eagerly confirmed, “Oh yes, I did that!” completely unaware of the storm I’d caused.

    “Cash back,” I said proudly. “I got it from Walmart. They give free money if you buy something and pay with your debit card.”

    There was a long pause. The kind of silence where you can literally hear judgment.

    Then she said, “Ma’am… that’s not free money. It’s your money. Withdrawn from your account.”

    Me: “Wait, what?!”

    Her: “Yes. You selected cash back, which debits your account for the amount requested. Your account allows a negative balance when no funds are available to a $…limit as per your instructions”

    Me: “So the cash back was… my own money?”

    Her: “Yes, ma’am.”

    Me: “Even the one from Monday? Tuesday? Wednesday? Thursday?”

    Her: “All of them, ma’am.”

    At that moment, my soul left my body. I literally hear faint laughter from every cashier who had ever asked, “Do you want cash back?”

    Overdraft Fee: The Cherry on Top 🍒

    But it didn’t stop there. The kind lady explained that I had withdrawn more than what was in my account. As a result, I was charged an overdraft fee. It was $35 for every transaction that took me below zero and remained unpaid for 72 hours.

    I did some quick math and realized my “free cash” had cost me about $210 in fees.
    America wasn’t just the land of opportunity; it was the land of financial traps wrapped in politeness.

    Lessons Learned the Hard (and Funny) Way

    I’ve learned a few important lessons since then:

    • Cash back isn’t cash forward. It’s your own money returning with a smirk.
    • The bank doesn’t forget. You may ignore your account balance, but it’s watching and silently plotting.
    • Walmart will never warn you. They’ll hand you your cash with a smile, knowing you’ll be back next week with overdraft tears.
    • Fresh immigrants need a manual. Seriously, why don’t they issue a “Welcome to America: Avoid These Financial Traps” booklet at the airport?

    How I Recovered (Financially and Emotionally)

    After I wiped my tears and accepted my overdrafted fate, I did what every immigrant does best. I learned and adapted.

    Now I check my account like it’s an exam result. I know my balance down to the last cent.
    And whenever a cashier asks, “Do you want cash back?”
    I smile sweetly and say,

    “No, thank you. I already got cash back from my overdraft last time.”

    Sometimes, I even warn other newcomers:

    “If you ever think America gives free money, please call me first.”

    A Message to My Fellow Immigrants

    We come here with big dreams, heavy accents, and light pockets. And America, bless her heart, greets us with overdraft fees, taxes, and 99-cent temptations. But that’s okay. Because every misstep is part of the story.

    Someday, I’ll laugh about this from my own house (fully paid off, amen). For now, I’m just that woman who overdrafted her way into financial wisdom.

    And Walmart? We’re on a break.
    Until further notice.

    Signed,
    Elizabeth Johnstone Musyoka

    Fried, but Wiser.