Tag: selfreflection

  • Seeing the Driver Within: Self-Awareness as a Way of Life

    This is an essay about something we hear daily, in every motivational video, every honest podcast, even in conversations with friends, partners, or children.

    It’s self-awareness.

    Everyone talks about it, but few truly engage with it. It’s often mistaken for a punishment , considered a burden, a summit to conquer, a painful confrontation with the self.

    People assume self-awareness is anti-ego, a punch to one’s pride.

    How can I have issues? Aren’t I a decent human being? Why should I worry about how my behavior affects others? Am I not troubled by them too?

    We tell ourselves, “We can just move past it. Forget it. Shove it. Drink on it. Sleep on it. Everything but deal with it? Why bother?”

    We’ve built a culture of zero accountability. A myth that our personalities are fixed at birth, that children act out because it’s in their genes, that adults are how they are because God made them that way. So why change? Why even try?

    I believed these things once. But then I learned.

    There’s extensive research on this, human behavior isn’t just a random trait; it’s largely acquired. Yes, acquired, not “owned,” not “innate.”

    Our behaviors are deeply influenced by:

    1. Where and when we were born – the country, the city, the traditions, the safety or danger level of our environment.
    2. Our family structure – how we were raised, whether the home was loving or dysfunctional, healthy or chaotic.
    3. Financial conditions and parental health — how much stress existed in the house, how much care children received.
    4. Education and peer groups — the kind of schooling and societal pressures we were exposed to.
    5. Safety and trauma — including exposure to crime, abuse, or neglect.

    Even in good homes, other subtle forces shape us:

    1. The food we eat, the boundaries set, the moral values passed on.
    2. Whether we were taught to handle emotions or suppress them.
    3. If we had access to safe adults or relied on friends and media for guidance.
    4. If we were encouraged to ask questions or silenced for being difficult.

    And then there are the negatives:

    1. Did we grow up in chaos and develop coping mechanisms just to survive?
    2. Were we expected to raise ourselves – or worse, our parents and siblings?
    3. Were our choices constantly shamed, our emotions dismissed, our voices unheard?
    4. Did we watch our caregivers ignore their health, never take breaks, or suppress their own feelings with addictions?

    Hence, even the tiniest patterns in daily life come from this early conditioning. A child who was never nurtured may grow up not knowing how to care for themselves.

    Whether you take a bath every day or not , yes, even that, might trace back to your upbringing.

    Children who weren’t taught how to deal with emotions may end up looking fine on the outside, but are numbing on the inside. They might throw themselves into books, sports, or art, not out of passion, but as a survival technique.

    Others may go down darker paths like addiction, crime, or dangerous behavior. Some are calling for attention. Others are trying to silence their own minds.

    But all of them need guidance – until at least the age of 25 – to make sense of life.

    As adults, our personalities ,be it good and bad, are shaped by these early scripts.

    They influence our career choices, relationships, addictions, emotional patterns, even how we handle food, rest, or routine.

    So does this mean we’re off the hook? Not at all.

    It means: if someone asks you to look into your behavior, take a pause. Don’t defend or attack. Reflect.

    If you grew up in a home with an unstable food situation, you might now overeat, undereat, cling to certain foods, or feel disconnected from food altogether. That’s not shameful. It’s a story. A root.

    And self-awareness means noticing it, not blaming yourself for it.

    You can still have personal preferences, but if a behavior is hurting you or your relationships, wouldn’t it help to understand why?

    Self-awareness is not an apology letter. It’s not a TED Talk you deliver to everyone around you.

    It’s a personal manual you quietly update. It means you choose knowledge over ignorance, introspection over projection.

    It doesn’t make you better or worse than anyone else. It just makes you a work-in-progress, like all of us.

    It creates space for kindness, because once you see a trait in someone, you begin to ask: “What story does this belong to?” Instead of judging, maybe we offer a little grace.

    And even if we decide to step back, we don’t carry resentment.

    This isn’t abstract talk. Self-awareness is one of the most powerful tools we have to live an intentional life. In tough times or big decisions, a little backtracking into our behavioral roots can change the game.

    And if we can’t decode it ourselves , that’s why professionals exist.

    But we must understand: self-awareness is an investment. Its effects are subtle, but lifelong.

    It won’t transform you overnight, but it will transform your life.

    And if, as families or communities, we begin to live this way, the ripple effect would be magical. A near-utopia.

    Imagine if we truly understand ourselves. We’d know our emotional switches. We’d know what version of us needs to show up, and when.

    We’d respond, not react.

    We wouldn’t be living on autopilot. We’d be manually cruising.

    And how cool is that?

  • May Be We Meet Again: Parallel Lives and the Journey of the Soul

    We live under the illusion of closeness, but perhaps no two souls ever truly meet. We orbit, we intertwine, we collide in emotion, in time, in memory, yet remain untouched at the core.

    Like parallel lines, we move close enough to feel fused, yet never lose our separateness.

    Love, friendship, marriage and even ‘bhakti’/devotion to god ,they promise union. But is union ever real, or is it a longing? 

    A dream of dissolving into someone else, only to return to ourselves more aware of the space that separates?

    In the dance of destiny, maybe it’s not about merging but witnessing, walking beside, never within. The ache we feel isn’t always from disconnection, but from the illusion that connection must erase the self.

    The geometry of relationships

    As children, we seek fusion. We want to be held so closely that there is no boundary between us and the world.

    But adulthood demands a quiet reckoning: that no matter how deeply we love, how long we stay, or how fiercely we feel, we remain distinctly ourselves. 

    This is not a failure of connection, but perhaps its highest form, to be known without vanishing, to be loved without dissolving.

    Relationships then become less about becoming one, and more about walking parallel, close, attuned, affected, yet sovereign.

    Romantically, we often chase the fantasy of completion. When we fall in love, there’s a hunger, to be engulfed, or to engulf.

    We want to devour and be devoured, physically and emotionally. 

    But even the most intense love can end in a painful fallout. Hearts shatter. The pain feels irreparable, and sometimes, maybe it is. Yet even if there is no falling out, even when passion is shared, yet there is a feeling of emptiness. 

    It feels even after pouring your cup completely, something in you still remains, untouched, undisturbed, unspilled.

    And that what remains is the ‘I’ which never loses itself, no matter how much we try to give it away.

    Sometimes we come across those friendships that make us believe we can’t function without the other. We cling. We depend. Our happiness and sadness depend on the existence of others.

    These siamese twins are not conjoined physically, but in emotion.

    And then the lore of marriage. The popular belief that marriage is the goal which will lead to the bliss that everyone has the right to. But even when love fades in a marriage, we hold onto the belief that this person is our eternal anchor, still our savior, the messiah. 

    And despite this yearning and this effort to keep the relationship intact, this bond frays, the warmth goes away. The hope to attain this ultimate bliss quietly diminishes.

    We may emotionally be hanging on by a thread, even if, officially, the relationship stays intact.

    When I try to reach God

    Spiritually, when we speak of merging with a higher power or becoming one with all, this idea rests on a profound paradox. In non-dual traditions like Advaita Vedanta and certain schools of Buddhism, the individual soul is not separate from the ultimate reality, it is the higher power. The boundaries between “I” and “other” dissolve; there is only oneness. 

    The self is seen as an illusion, and awakening means realizing that soul and divine are one and the same. Probably this is where our present form of amorous love takes inspiration from.

    At the same time, dualistic traditions such as Sufism and Vaishnavism speak of an eternal coexistence with the divine, where the soul remains distinct yet forever united with the ultimate source of love.

    In these paths, the “I” does not disappear but lives in a loving relationship with the beloved, the divine, never losing its identity even in transcendence.

    This tension, the paradox of unity and individuality, deeply shapes the spiritual journey. 

    How can personal bliss flourish when the self both dissolves into oneness and yet must remain distinct? 

    The very essence of personal joy and love seems to depend on the presence of a unique “I.”

    Is there an absolute answer?

    True bliss is found not in choosing between these different spiritual views but in embracing their coexistence: being one with everything, coexisting amicably with everything and also the one, yet profoundly oneself. 

    It is the delicate dance of merging and standing apart, finding peace in the mystery that the self can be infinite and intimate all at once.

    And that brings me to the metaphor of parallel lines. Lines that are impossibly close, running together for infinity, and yet, never meeting.

    This, I feel, is the nature of all human connection. We may walk side by side, but we do not merge. Our identities never fully dissolve.

    The “I” always remains

    I may give you everything but still something in me remains, which is mine, forever. And even I can’t erase it.

    Even the most submissive among us still carries an “I” that wants to exist. 

    Romantically, this realization may feel melancholic, never to melt into one with a soulmate.

    But spiritually, it’s almost magical, to feel union, while still remembering who we are.

    If there were no individuality, how would we even experience oneness?

    The vastness of ‘I’

    This sense of “I” is not ego. It’s awareness. The I that chooses relationships or the path to eternal bliss.

    It’s the part that lets us appreciate connection without losing selfhood.

    If I extend this back to earthly relationships, it challenges the fairytale endings that were sold.

    Passionate love is supposed to mean becoming one, souls merging, personalities entwined. But maybe the real bliss comes from preserving awareness. 

    Of being two individuals, consciously choosing to flow together, not disappear into each other.

    The need to understand ‘I’

    At the risk of sounding too rational, sometimes, logic is the gateway to emotional and spiritual freedom. 

    The more I become aware of myself, the more clearly I can hear what my soul longs for, and move toward it, until it’s within reach.

    To understand this ‘I’, one needs inner work, spiritual and psychological. To let go of the ego which inhibits understanding of oneself, a deterrent in attaining true happiness. 

    When we make enough effort to realize who we are and what we want, it’s easier to decide which path to take to reach the ultimate goal that we have defined for our life.

    The evolving journey of ‘ours’

    The takeaway for me is this, life is a personal journey. Not necessarily alone, but always individual. You may want to consume someone, or be consumed. But you never truly can. 

    We co-exist, just like parallel lines. Sometimes infinitesimally close. Sometimes drifting apart. 

    And sometimes, like in non-Euclidean geometry, paths that were never aligned might finally meet, after an eternity.

    And maybe that’s the quiet beauty of it all. In a world where nothing truly fuses, we still reach. 

    That despite the certainty of separation, we still choose to walk, to witness, to love.

    That even if our paths never truly intersect, the nearness of another soul becomes its own kind of grace. 

    We orbit one another, not to complete, but to reflect, to remind, to remember that we were never meant to vanish into someone else, but to fully arrive in ourselves, again and again, alongside those who do the same.

    Perhaps we were never meant to merge, only to meet, like light through glass. Just passing through, never clinging, casting something beautiful in its wake.

  • Perfectionism: Is it enabling you or draining you?

    (A sneak peek into the mind of a perfectionist, who is unable to find their self esteem without validation from others)

    I’m tired of this mind of mine, so tender, it bruises with every word. The one that gets hurt at the slightest comment.

    The one obsessed with validation.

    My entire sense of worth seems to hang on someone else’s words.

    I have this maddening urge to explain myself until the other person finally says, “I get it. I still like you. You weren’t wrong.”

    Why can’t I be wrong? Why am I so attached to being right?

    I’m sure my moral compass was shaped in childhood, by parents who believed that making a mistake meant you were a bad person. So to me, being a good human meant being a perfect one. Nothing less of perfection.

    It’s become an obsession: to be right, always right. And when I’m not, I spiral into anxiety. Then I expect others to accept my shortcomings, because I wasn’t raised right, because I have issues, because I am broken.

    And the burden falls on the ones who love me to accommodate my madness, my fears, my tears, my jolts, my frenzy, my apparent lovelessness.

    It becomes a vicious cycle: “Please don’t hate me, I’m not bad”—to—“Go to hell, you’re wrong and imperfect.”

    Self-preservation takes over when someone tries to push me into a corner.

    I growl like a grizzly bear to scare them away, but on the inside, I just want a hug.

    I want to be told I’m still loved.

    I often observe others, watching how they go about their day, without any apparent worry of the world.

    I don’t understand how people live with their imperfections without constantly fearing ridicule or rejection. I can be kind to strangers, compassionate to broken people, accepting of their flaws.

    But in close relationships, I run a tight ship.

    So tight, it’s suffocating.

    And truthfully? It’s exhausting to live with me.

    I’m constantly analyzing myself, putting myself on trial, playing the jury, the judge, the lawyer, the culprit, and the victim. It feels like I’m holding a fragile ship together. One wrong move, and everything sinks.

    Yes, yes,I know I need help!

    But here’s the question that haunts me: Does wanting to be right mean I need help?

    I fear that if I start letting go, if I start accepting things as they are, I’m giving up on myself.

    Accepting would mean my thoughts aren’t really changing. I’ve just muted my voice.

    I fear I’d become a fake. A hypocrite. An inauthentic.

    So what to do now?

    Should I end relationships where I don’t let the other person breathe?

    Should I only stay close to those I can accept easily?

    Should I keep pushing people to be better?

    Where’s the line between nagging and nurturing? Between trying and accepting?

    Why does acceptance sometimes feel like enabling cruelty? And why does trying to fix things make me feel like the villain?

    If I don’t sound urgent, will people even take me seriously?

    How much time are we wasting hurting each other—hurting ourselves—just to be ‘right’?

    How do I handle the casual disdain people seem to have for empathy and accountability? How far do I go in trying to show them a different way?

    How to tell them their bare minimum is not enough?

    What’s the ideal distance in relationships? What’s hypocrisy, and what’s authenticity? What does it mean to “let people be” versus trying to make a relationship work?

    And then I wonder: what is stopping them, and what is stopping me, from accepting?

    Behind the refusal to accept is fear.

    Fear born in childhood, or maybe adulthood, during those moments when you were left alone, helpless.

    The phoenix in me wondering, whether to rise from the ashes or stay hidden.

    When the hand that was supposed to save you pushed you deeper into the swamp instead.

    You felt like you’d die in those moments.

    But you survived. Heroically.

    At a cost.

    You lost faith. In people. Maybe even in God.

    Now, the only person you trust is yourself, because it was you who pulled yourself out. And even when someone offered help, they didn’t reach in time.

    So now, you plan. You judge. You micromanage every outcome. To avoid vulnerability.

    People might think you’re strong, wise, put-together. But really you’re just scared.

    A scaredy crow who can’t handle surprises. You spin like a top, terrified of falling.

    This perfection isn’t superiority. It’s inferiority, wearing a mask. It’s fear pretending to be in control.

    And when you look at others, you wonder: How are they just living? Not micromanaging? Not terrified of mistakes?

    You’re triggered by their ease. Their confidence. Their oblivion. You scoff at them, call them naive. But in quiet moments, you wonder: Who sleeps better? You or them?

    Maybe you’re jealous. Maybe you envy how little time they spend in fear.

    Your fear shows up as control. As nagging. As intensity. You become the party pooper. The energy zapper.

    But there’s an opposite extreme too: The avoiders. The numb ones. Those who were never taught to handle hard emotions. So they freeze. Scoff. Numb.

    They call emotional people dramatic. They label vulnerability as weakness.

    But deep down, they’re as fragile as you. They just express it differently.

    Addictions often live here: in food, screens, working out to look a certain way, alcohol, sex, shopping, even cleaning. Anything to escape the storm inside.

    So there’s a middle path. There has to be.

    One extreme says stop at the sight of trouble. The other says ignore the signs and run. But the middle path says:

    Pause.

    Feel your feelings. Sit with discomfort. Then choose your next move, with kindness, with strength, with clarity.

    Tell yourself when difficulties are looming over your head, that you are strong enough to face it. You are loved enough to ask for support. You are mature enough to know who to ask. You are kind enough to accept failure. And wise enough to begin again.

    You don’t have to feel ashamed of making mistakes and seeking help. You help others feel whole when they think they’re missing something to be happy and worthy.

    I read somewhere, Not making mistakes is not perfection but growing continuously changing continuously as per the lessons is perfection.

    So now to me, this is what a healthy mind looks like: A mind that can handle what life throws at it—with quiet dignity. Even if it stumbles, it rises.

    It knows how to hold itself. And when it can’t, it’s confident enough to reach out. Not in desperation, but in strength.

    It doesn’t dwell in shame. It doesn’t seek constant validation. It simply knows:

    The space it holds on this Earth is already its own, and it doesn’t need to be earned or justified.

    I hope all the broken ones find peace. I hope they’re met with warmth instead of suspicion. That their concerns are treated like real wounds. That they are supported like they never were before.

    I hope they know: They matter. Without effort. Without perfection. Without asking.

    Always.

  • The Phoenix in Me

    Long-term trauma leaves you with no idea who you are. You keep coping, imitating, trying to become someone, maybe your ideal self, because you don’t know your original self, if something like that even exists.

    An authentic “you” doesn’t exist yet.

    And then, when you heal a little and build some self-worth, you feel even more lost. You don’t want to copy anymore, but you also don’t know who you truly are. You don’t like being told what’s wrong with you because, deep down, you feel it’s not your fault.

    You don’t know your weaknesses or strengths because, whatever they are, they’ve just been your way of surviving all this time.

    It takes years, sometimes decades, to figure out what you should and shouldn’t be. And while you’re stuck in that process, life keeps passing by. Once again, you feel left behind. Once again, you’re missing the boat.

    People say, “You can be anything.” But how do you even choose what to be? If you had a personality to begin with, maybe you could just hone it. But when you have to build a whole new one from scratch? That’s something else entirely.

    You’re physically clumsy, mentally even worse, and sometimes only you can see that. The weight of that invisible struggle crushes your confidence. The confusion drains you. The embarrassment, of not knowing yourself, becomes something only you can feel, because others have no idea what it’s like.

    It’s a lonely journey. A dark, small, lonely room in the corner of existence. And the only way to turn the light on is from the outside, by letting in acceptance.

    Acceptance of who you are. Acceptance of the hope that you could be anything. No matter how much you want to escape this room, you can’t unless you carry acceptance with you- everywhere, probably forever.

    And yes, acceptance is heavy too. It puts the responsibility on you. But is it worth it? Maybe. I have yet to see. But sitting alone in this room doesn’t feel good either.

    Decades might pass, and only a few will bother to knock on this door. Even fewer, maybe just one, might try to break it open.

    But is waiting for that person really worth it?

    Instead of expecting someone else to save you, isn’t it better to walk out yourself?

    Carry your own burden, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll find someone who’s carrying a similar one. Or someone who, even without their own burden, is willing to help with yours.

    Life is difficult, but maybe not as unbearable as it seems. If nothing else, we can learn to be our own best company, carrying ourselves through the weight of it all.

    And maybe—just maybe—one day, it won’t feel as heavy anymore.

  • Know Thyself, Love Thyself

    While I often believe that childhood surroundings play a decisive role in shaping who we become, I also see many who turn out completely different from what their environment might suggest.

    A strictly traditional family may raise a free-spirited son, an atheist household could nurture a deeply religious individual, and a family bound by societal norms might have a rebellious child.

    Is it genetics? Is it Freud? Questions worth exploring.

    While understanding why we are the way we are is important, the more essential task is accepting who we are. Until we truly understand ourselves, a process that takes years, we can’t begin to grow or build a better life.

    After all, how can you fix a machine without first diagnosing the issue?

    But self-awareness isn’t just about finding flaws; it’s also about learning to love ourselves. Just as we fall deeper in love with someone as we notice and appreciate their little quirks, the more we come to know ourselves, the more considerate and compassionate we become toward our own being.

    The world tells us to love others, but that love must first begin with ourselves. When we understand our true nature, we can treat ourselves with care and make the necessary adjustments to lead a more fulfilling life.

    Is that something to feel guilty about? Absolutely not. Self-love is the foundation for growth and connection. By embracing who we are, we not only improve our own lives but also enhance our ability to love and support others, helping us become better human beings.

  • Prisoners Of The Mind: The Human Struggle

    The trouble with life is that it is made up of numerous moments. When times are good, you enjoy being in the moment, but when things aren’t going your way, every moment feels like a punishment. Life seems like a prison, and you become a slave to it.

    You keep banging your head against the invisible walls of time, trying to understand what led you here. It becomes even more difficult when you consider yourself a thinker-logical and rational-someone who can’t accept an irrational explanation for their problems. Yet, there often seems to be no rational reason for the random unpleasant events in life.

    How and when psychology became a rational branch is something that makes me wonder because, most of the time, when you can’t perform due to an emotionally troubled state, people call you useless or lazy. If psychology is the culprit, why shouldn’t a person see themselves as a victim, victim of their own mind or time, victim of their own evolution, which made them sensitive to others, victim of anything that now seems to be a self-fulfilling prophecy?

    While people strive to be part of groups where they are truly in touch with their inner selves, a person who is authentically themselves at all times is often labeled impulsive. Why is everything paradoxical when it comes to real practices in the world? Every ritual has two sides: one bad and the other worse, yet we are forced to choose.

    When we begin to understand what we lack, we find ourselves at the brink of killing our own ideals. Once we realize that this lack is the cause of our troubles, it becomes difficult to act against it because doing so feels like acting against ourselves, against the truth. And everyone has a different version of the truth, yet everyone wants you to accept their version while you keep wondering: isn’t truth supposed to be absolute?

    Perhaps this is where we make the mistake. Maybe it’s not the truth we are offering or believing, but rather an explanation. And explanations change with time, according to our understanding of the problems.

    Maybe the key to everything is knowledge, awareness. The more we get to know things, directly and remotely related to our situation, the better we will be at accepting what brought us here.

    And maybe, then, our tombstones won’t silently read: “Still searching for a reason.”

  • Masters Of The Stage Or Masters Of Fate?

    I am a novice when it comes to acting. Not only did I hold various assumptions about the talent required, thinking it was no big deal, but I also believed acting was for those who couldn’t do anything else.

    Recently, I had an epiphany, a newfound respect for actors, when I realized that acting isn’t just impromptu. It’s rehearsed. And it’s not just a monologue all the time. There is a group of people working together to present a real-life situation in the most convincing way possible. I now understand why the term “timing” was coined.

    An actor already knows what will come next, yet they still hold the expressions the scene demands. They know their next line, but they wait patiently for their turn, responding as though hearing it for the first time. And while they wait, they don’t look bored or fake their reactions, they seem to be immersed in that character and that’s the mark of a great actor.

    This got me thinking about the mystery in our own lives. What if we knew what was coming next? Could we still stay present and play our part convincingly?

    If we knew we were going to die, get hurt, or lose everything, could we still be as happy in the present moment as we are now, oblivious to the future? Personally, I doubt that about myself.

    If we can’t even be good actors in the small plays of life, how could we expect to be good humans if we knew our fate beforehand? Would living still be as exhilarating if we knew exactly how it would unfold?

    Actors don’t just play one role in their lifetime, they embody many. With each character, they get to live as sinners and saints, lovers and villains. They don’t just recite lines; they feel what their characters feel, diving deep into the emotional and spiritual depths of those experiences. Maybe that gives them an unusual perspective, a glimpse into different kinds of human existence. They witness what it means to be selfish or selfless, cruel or kind, broken or whole.

    In real life, they probably get to choose who they want to be, based on those experiences.

    And that made me wonder—as humans, do we experience something similar? If we believe in multiple lifetimes, could it be that, deep down, we remember the lessons from each? Maybe not consciously, but somewhere in the fabric of our being, we carry those experiences, shaping the way we choose to live.

    If we could see all the beads on the string of life—every role we’ve ever played, every lesson we’ve ever learned—would we finally understand why we are here? Would it make us better? Or is the forgetting just as essential as the remembering?

    It makes me wonder, are we all just actors in the grand play of existence, striving for our final standing ovation?

  • Who Are You Without their Approval?

    Why Being Unable to Show Up Is a ‘You’ Issue, Not a ‘Them’ Issue?

    Most of the time, when we get ready to meet someone, we think about how they will perceive us. Will they approve of the way we look? Will we fit in?

    This concern makes sense in formal settings, where dress codes act as unspoken signals. Dressing like the attendees at a corporate event or a government meeting signals, I belong here. I understand your language. Even in creative spaces like art exhibitions or tech startups, a certain aesthetic exists—one that distinguishes us from them.

    But what about relationships? Shouldn’t those be the spaces where we show up as we are, not as someone trying to belong? Is that too much to expect in this world where everything else is made up?

    Living As Per the World vs. Living True to Yourself

    The truth is, many of us live as versions of ourselves shaped by the world, not by what feels natural to us. But what makes us doubt our authentic selves? What strips away our ability to stand firm in who we are?

    The answer: Self-esteem.

    A deep, unwavering belief that you are lovable and worthy exactly as you are, not because of your appearance, achievements, or status, but simply because you exist. Not an arrogance that stems from superiority, nor apathy that disguises insecurity, but a quiet confidence that says, I am enough.

    The Fear of Not Being Enough

    I’ve seen this trope play out in movies: Two childhood friends, now grown up, decide to meet. One of them, usually the heroine, recognizes the other right away. But the hero is searching for an idealized version of her -the pretty, polished version he remembers. She sees this, feels small, assumes she isn’t enough, and instead of revealing herself, she walks away.

    Is this the guy’s fault, or is it her own self-doubt? If he openly shows disappointment, sure, we can judge him. But maybe even he has a physical preference. And what if he’s just happy to see her, no matter how she looks? Would we pat him on the back for that? And if so, what does that say about our own standards? Are we promoting pity and negating the importance of authenticity?

    Who really needs to do the work,the person with an expectation that their love interest will have a certain physical appearance and financial situation, or the person too afraid to show up as they are in the present moment?

    Where It All Begins: Childhood

    What fuels self-esteem? Why do some people seek a lot of external validation while others don’t?

    It all is set in the first 25 years of life. Those years shape almost everything about how we navigate adulthood, including how much we like ourselves. And the biggest deciding factor? Parents.

    Or, if not parents, the primary caregivers ,the people who first taught us what being human means. Think about Mowgli. Raised by wolves, he didn’t see himself as a human. He measured himself by the wolf pack’s standards. Even when he was found, he struggled to integrate because his foundation wasn’t built on human identity. That’s how deep early influences go.

    If your parents praised you only when you looked a certain way, you learned that appearance equals worth. If they mocked others for their looks, you internalized that judgment, fearing they saw you the same way. And so, you either conformed to avoid shame or rebelled to prove a point,both behaviors driven by external validation rather than self-acceptance.

    If You’re a Parent, What Can You Do?

    First, learn to love yourself, the way you are. Do the inner work that’s required to reach that healthy stage. How you see the world and yourself influences your child’s worldview. The efforts you make for yourself and the words you use for yourself  and others, the things you approve or disapprove of, all these shape your child’s standards for themselves and others.

    Yes, you have to teach your child about societal norms. Yes, you have to protect them by teaching them certain behaviors and practices. But none of it should make the child feel inadequate,especially if they struggle to follow those norms. Their worth should never be intertwined with what they do or how they behave in the eyes of a parent. They don’t have to fight you to earn your love. 

    Second, self-esteem isn’t just about looks. It extends to career, relationships, and life milestones. Parenting requires a fine balance between nudging a child toward growth, setting necessary boundaries, and making them feel inherently valued.

    Sometimes, tough love is needed. But how it’s delivered determines whether it builds resilience or damages confidence. A healthy child who grows into a healthy adult doesn’t constantly seek approval. If your child never seeks validation, something’s off. If they always need it, something’s off. And if they tiptoe around your emotions to keep you happy, you might be raising a people-pleaser.

    A confident child pushes boundaries because they know your love isn’t conditional. In any case, never mock or shame your child-whether in front of them or behind their back. Sarcasm and shame never help a child (or even an adult) learn anything. They only teach them that they are unworthy of their parent’s love because they failed to meet a certain expectation. 

    Sarcasm and shame seemingly may work in the short term, but it should not be the norm for correction in the house, your kid (sometimes even adult children) shouldn’t fear that their parents can make fun of them anytime in front of anyone, in the name of motivation. In the long term, it destroys their self esteem and in a deranged way can also be used to gain an unhealthy form of attention from you. 

    Research shows that kids who receive enough love and  healthy attention actually listen more to their parents. Parenting becomes easier when children feel secure in their worth and receiving love that is consistent.

    As an Adult, What Can You Do?

    It may not be about physical appearance. It’s about how you feel about yourself overall. Career struggles, unmet expectations, and peer pressure can all chip away at self-esteem. If you feel like you’re falling behind, it’s easy to shrink.

    Instead of forcing yourself to ‘march ahead,’ start by surrounding yourself with people who see your worth beyond your current circumstances. Find friends or family members who remind you that you are you—not your achievements, not your setbacks, just you.

    These people keep you grounded when you’re soaring and lift you up when you’re falling. They may even be part of a digital community if your family is toxic and you don’t have supportive friends. Finding healthy support,through online spaces, doing self-care and inner work, reading good books, podcasts, and other perspectives, helps maintain and build self-esteem when it is shattered.

    Sometimes, you have to spend time with yourself to rebuild your self-worth from scratch. Something like rising from the ashes like a phoenix.

    Final Thought

    No one—not society, not your past, not even your own doubts—gets to decide your worth. If something isn’t working out, it’s a matter of strategy and time, not proof of your value.

    We all love achieving things, and that’s great. But your milestones should never dictate your right to get love, respect, or attention.

    Show up. As you are.

    That’s all you ever needed to do.

  • Life Attention पर चलती है—क्या आप सही जगह Attention दे रहे हैं?

    ज़िन्दगी attention पर चलती है। Parenting के बारे में जो पहली चीज़ आप सीखते हैं, वो है attention। जन्म के पहले ही पल से, एक बच्चा attention की चाहत रखता है। यह एक evolutionary ज़रूरत है कि कोई भी नवजात attention मांगे क्योंकि यह उसके survival के लिए आवश्यक है। एक मानव शिशु 100% अपने माता-पिता या caretakers पर निर्भर होता है। इस कारण, माता-पिता को लगातार अपने बच्चे की ज़रूरतों और असुविधाओं को समझने के लिए सतर्क रहना पड़ता है। लेकिन क्या यह बुनियादी attention की ज़रूरत उम्र बढ़ने के साथ समाप्त हो जाती है?

    इसे जो भी नाम दें, लेकिन चाहे हमारे पास कितना भी पैसा या technology क्यों न हो, community और मानवीय सहयोग हमारे happiness के लिए बेहद ज़रूरी हैं। इंसान machines के साथ जीवित रह सकता है, लेकिन अगर उसे वास्तव में thrive करना है—एक सार्थक जीवन बनाना है—तो उसे जुड़ाव की आवश्यकता होगी। और फिर यह बहस भी उठती है कि क्या केवल जीवित रहना ही पर्याप्त है, या जीने के लिए कुछ और भी मायने रखता है?

    जैसे-जैसे हम बड़े होते हैं, attention की आवश्यकता बदलती रहती है। इसके रूप बदल सकते हैं, लेकिन देखे और सुने जाने की मूलभूत ज़रूरत हमेशा बनी रहती है। फिर भी, एक community के रूप में हम अक्सर इस महत्वपूर्ण पहलू की अनदेखी कर देते हैं—चाहे वो attention देना हो या प्राप्त करना।

    Self-reliance और independence को तीन बार सलाम, लेकिन किस हद तक? इतनी कि हम खुद को दूसरों से अलग-थलग कर लें, यह सोचकर कि हमें community की ज़रूरत ही नहीं? या फिर इतनी कि हम समाज से कट जाएँ और फिर से जुड़ने में असमर्थ महसूस करें?

    ज़िन्दगी, बहुत हद तक, वहीं होती है जहाँ attention होती है। किसी व्यक्ति की well-being, किसी business की सफलता, या किसी community की मजबूती इस बात पर निर्भर करती है कि कहाँ और कैसे उनकी समस्याओं पर ध्यान दिया जा रहा है। लेकिन इससे गहरे सवाल उठते हैं: हम व्यक्तिगत और सामूहिक रूप से अपनी attention कहाँ केंद्रित कर रहे हैं? क्या हम सच में ज़रूरी चीज़ों को प्राथमिकता दे रहे हैं, या फिर महत्वपूर्ण आवश्यकताओं को अनदेखा कर रहे हैं और तुच्छ चीज़ों पर ध्यान दे रहे हैं?

    Attention देना एक गहरी और प्रभावशाली क्रिया है। यह presence, empathy, और action की मांग करता है। एक community के रूप में, हमें यह समझना होगा कि भार साझा करना कितना महत्वपूर्ण है। अगर कोई व्यक्ति अकेले अपने संघर्षों से जूझ रहा है, तो जो सक्षम हैं वे उसकी मदद कर सकते हैं। यह सामूहिक attention लोगों की ज़िन्दगी बदल सकती है, रिश्तों को मजबूत बना सकती है और belongingness की भावना को बढ़ावा दे सकती है। लेकिन पहला कदम यह स्वीकार करना है कि attention देना कितना जरूरी है—खुद को, दूसरों को, और अपने आस-पास की दुनिया को।

  • Self-Care Is Not Selfish

    History has not been kind to those who cannot advocate for themselves.

    Life and health, too, unfortunately, are unkind to those who devote themselves to others without attending to their own needs.

    Caretakers, for instance, often neglect their health because they lack the mental bandwidth or willpower to prioritize themselves.

    While they might know exactly how to care for others, planning meals, appointments, and exercises for their loved ones, they often fail to apply that same care to themselves.

    Self-care is often misunderstood. For many, it feels selfish or indulgent, especially in a society that glorifies sacrifice and selflessness.

    However, the truth is that self-care is one of the most selfless things you can do. Why? Because only when you care for yourself can you truly take care of others.

    Who is a caretaker? A caretaker is not just someone looking after an ailing or struggling person physically or mentally; it is anyone who pours themselves out to meet someone else’s needs.

    This includes a parent caring for a child, a working professional supporting their family, or a person managing both their job and an aging pet. The examples are endless.

    Being a caretaker is one of the most sacrificial roles a person can take on, but it is also one of the most self-sabotaging. The body and brain work in mysterious ways.

    When you are constantly focused on others, your own needs often fade into the background.

    Basic necessities required for a healthy mind and body, like exercise, nutritious food, and good sleep habits are ignored. Over time, this neglect takes a serious toll on physical and mental health, leading to chronic illnesses, particularly lifestyle disorders like hypertension, obesity, diabetes, and mental health struggles.

    Research has even linked prolonged stress due to neglected self-care with an increased risk of serious conditions like cancer.

    It takes immense grit, intention, and discipline to practice self-care, perhaps even more than it takes to care for someone else.

    Yet, without it, you risk burning out, becoming irritable, or even resenting the very people you are trying to help.

    You become the person you least pay attention to, and this neglect has consequences.

    If you are a parent, this may affect your parenting style. As a health caretaker, it impacts the healing environment of the home where you reside with the patient.

    This raises the question: is it wrong to prioritize yourself? Absolutely not.

    In fact, it is essential. Self-care is the foundation of effective caregiving and healthy relationships. It’s not about ignoring others’ needs but ensuring that you are strong enough to meet them.

    After all, you can’t pour from an empty cup.

    Unfortunately, societal attitudes make this even more difficult. We often glorify self-sacrifice to the point where those who prioritize their well-being are seen as selfish.

    But for those who are self-reliant or caring for others, self-care is a lifeline. It’s about maintaining the physical, emotional, and mental capacity to live meaningfully and support others effectively.

    At the same time, seeking help should be normalized and celebrated. Many people, including caretakers, struggle in silence because they feel they must manage everything alone.

    Yet, asking for support is not a sign of weakness but of courage, it shows trust in one’s community.

    This is why we must foster a culture where offering help is instinctive, even when it is not explicitly asked for. A simple offer of assistance can go a long way in reminding caretakers that they are not alone, that their struggles are seen and acknowledged.

    However, instead of encouraging practical support, society tends to glorify those who carry the burden alone to the brink of burnout. They are labeled as superheroes, praised for their endurance rather than helped in meaningful ways.

    For example, mothers juggling work and childcare without assistance are often called “wonder women” rather than being offered support. Instead of recognizing their struggle as a lesson in the need for communal care, we turn it into an inspiration for others to endure similar hardships.

    We celebrate perseverance, yet we fail to teach the importance of seeking or providing help.

    Ironically, while we admire success and ambition, we rarely consider empathy a skill worth cultivating. Internships and training programs focus on financial or professional growth, but who teaches us to support those silently struggling?

    The burden of caregiving often falls to those who grew up in difficult circumstances, not because they were taught how to handle it but because they had no choice.

    The lesson here is clear: to provide meaningful support, we must first be capable ourselves. Prioritizing self-care is not selfish; it is the most compassionate thing we can do for those who depend on us.

    We must foster an environment where taking care of our minds and bodies is guilt-free, while also ensuring that we uplift those who cannot do so themselves.

    Ultimately, self-care is about balance. It’s about recognizing that your well-being matters just as much as anyone else’s.

    It’s about creating a world where everyone, caretakers and those they care for, can thrive.

    And it starts with a simple but profound realization: you cannot help others unless you help yourself first.