Uncategorized – Calm with Me

Daily writing prompt

Do you trust your instincts?

Yes — and very strongly. I can’t claim that my instincts are 100% accurate, but they are right most of the time. I believe instincts aren’t some supernatural power; they’re the understanding we build from our experiences with the world.

From babyhood, we begin interacting with our surroundings. An empty mind slowly starts observing, remembering, and storing information in different ways. A child might jump from a height without logic or fear, but with time, we start sensing what’s safe, what’s risky, what feels right, and what feels “off.”

Our instincts are shaped by these accumulated interactions. They help us read situations, places, and people even before we consciously process what’s happening. In my case, my instincts have saved me from real trouble more than once. And even in the moments they failed, the cost was small.

So yes, I do believe in instincts. And my instincts tell me that a few of you will probably agree with me on this.

I Am Lost, But I Exist

I am lost — but I exist.
Somewhere beneath a pile of hundreds of chores and duties, I breathe. I move through the day, ticking tasks off lists, smiling when expected, surviving each rush. Yet, deep within, there’s a quiet pull — a search for something that could lift me back to the surface.

Time is ticking. Milestones are passing. And it feels like I’ve missed most of them. Still, I yearn — to hope, to rise, to fall, and to rise again.

Some days weigh heavy with sadness, and some shimmer softly with light. Both matter. Both remind me I’m still alive.

I want to run — not from myself, but toward a place where life feels full again. A place where my robe carries countless experiences stitched across its fabric — moments of laughter, tears, courage, and quiet wonder.

I want to fall in love with life, deeply and endlessly.

Maybe this post will get buried among millions. But still — I write.
Because I want to be read.
Because somewhere out there, maybe someone else feels lost too… and needs to know — they still exist.

When Plans Fall Apart, Life Still Flows

Last month, I was all set to change my life. I wanted to add creativity, meaning, excitement, and adventure to it. I spent days planning how I would allocate my time—learning, playing with my baby, finishing chores, resting, taking care of my body, connecting with friends, and more.

That planning phase itself was exciting, I must admit. But soon, joining all the pieces together became difficult. Each time I failed to stick to the plan, it felt like I was collecting milestones of failure, adding up to a negative score against myself.

Then I realized—what I was doing wasn’t living. I was torturing myself in the name of a perfect plan.

Life is mostly unplanned. Yes, having a routine and some discipline can streamline our days and give them meaning, but after a while, even those can turn into a trap. We begin layering them with too many goals, too many expectations, and eventually lose sight of the joy in simply being.

The truth is, our life is already good, no matter how ordinary or simple it looks. If we can happily manage our meals, our health, and our shelter—we already have most of what we need. Living becomes joyful when we learn to embrace solitude and simplicity.

Life is not about tiring ourselves in the chase of endless goals. It is about enjoying it—in whichever way it comes. A good sleep, a relaxed body, a walk, or a heartfelt conversation—these are rewards in themselves.

The busyness we run after is just an illusion.

Does Winning or Losing Really Matter?

From the moment we enter this world, a silent race begins.
First to cry.
First to walk.
First to speak.
Better marks. Better clothes. Better job.
Even when no one’s watching, we’re often sprinting — to be “better” than someone, or perhaps, better than who we were yesterday.

But why?

Even when we pause, reflect, and tell ourselves, “Winning isn’t everything,” deep down… we crave something more.
Fulfillment. A sense of achievement. A feeling of being “enough.”

And it’s not wrong.
This inner longing — this desire to accomplish — might just be the very thing that makes us human.

We often confuse this journey with a trap — an endless loop of wins, losses, and comparisons. But maybe, it’s not the outcome that truly matters, but the fire within us — the reason we show up every day and say, “Let me try again.”

🌱 The Secret Might Be This

Instead of resisting the instinct to strive, what if we embraced it… mindfully?

Let’s acknowledge that our hearts long to create, to win, to overcome. But let’s also learn to:

Detach our self-worth from the results.
See failures as teachers, not verdicts.
Find joy in the process, not just the trophies.

When we break big goals into small milestones — like reading one page, writing one line, running one kilometre, helping one person — we build something far more powerful than success: inner peace with momentum.

And no, it may not earn applause or medals every time.
But it makes our hearts beat with purpose.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s the real victory.

So today, set a small challenge.
Write the first page.
Call the loved one.
Start the project.
Dream the dream.
Act like you’re solving the climate crisis or winning a world cup — because that enthusiasm is what your spirit deserves.

And when you do it — not for the world, but for you — you’ll feel something awaken.
A quiet power.
That’s your win.

“When typical starts feeling terrifying.”

With this question, I found myself stepping back—looking at my life from a little distance. It was as if I zoomed out of my routine and saw both the inside and outside very clearly.

If “typical” means waking up, managing chores, having breakfast, and leaving for work with a guilty heart—that clutching, invisible guilt—then yes, today was typical. Most days are.

In an effort to escape this very “typicalness,” we end up following another familiar script: roaming markets, buying things we don’t need, eating food that brings short-term comfort, and calling it a break. But isn’t that just another cover over an old cover?

The scary part? Even my inner world is starting to feel typical.
The same cycle—
Cursing myself for missing another workout.
For not sticking to the diet plan I made months ago.
For letting all those organizing ideas just sit there.
For mindless scrolling.
For hoping for a better tomorrow without making today even slightly better.

Gosh, I’m scared.
This question—”Was today typical?”—has shaken me a little. Made me doubt some of the choices I keep making on repeat.

But maybe… maybe writing this is step one.
Maybe asking for help, wondering out loud—
“Do you think I can be helped?”
—is the start of something untypical.

Trying Again Is the Key — Not Just Consistency

How easy life would be if we actually followed every plan we made — from eating right, exercising, sleeping well, saving money, staying creative, to limiting screen time. But let’s be honest: most of these plans derail, and when they do, we often feel like failures.

To escape that guilt, we make new plans. And this cycle — plan, fail, replan — becomes our life.

Over time, I’ve realized this is not just my story — it’s most people’s. And there’s no perfect solution. It’s like learning to walk: we try, we fall, we get up again. One day, without even noticing, we run, we jump, we chase our dreams. All of it begins with just trying to walk.

I’ve struggled to keep my learning goals alive. Something always comes up — housework, responsibilities, distractions. Plans fail. Motivation fades. Subscriptions go unused. Downloads pile up. Stories go unwritten. Recipes remain untried. My to-do list is full of “pending” items.

But now I look at that list differently — not as proof of failure, but as a reminder to try again. Life moves in cycles — ups and downs, stops and starts — and that’s okay. The key is to keep moving, to keep trying, no matter how slow or broken the process feels.

Trying consistently is what keeps us on the road — not being perfect every day.

If you feel the same, tell me: what’s one thing you’re still holding on to but haven’t completed yet?

After the Storm: A Note to Self

Yesterday, everything felt bitter.
The house felt like a mess — chores were torture, cooking felt thankless, toys scattered everywhere, and nothing around looked even remotely pleasing. I was angry — at everything and everyone. In that moment, I hated it all.

Then I slept.

A few hours of rest, a quiet moment with my little tornado, and things softened. No, this isn’t about guilt creeping in or me romanticizing emotional outbursts. This is about realizing that self-blame solves nothing — and bottling up emotions until they explode doesn’t help either.

Sometimes, breakdowns don’t look pretty. They don’t come with a journal, candles, or gentle tears. They come as rage, shouting, numbness — things that scare even ourselves.

What matters is what comes after.
And for me, the lesson was simple: Melt before you shatter.
Release before it ruins everything.

This isn’t about blaming people, fighting over responsibilities, or idealizing support systems. This is about facing the fact that we are each responsible for our own well-being. Yes, it’s beautiful to imagine perfect partners, helpful siblings, friends who check in — but not everyone will show up. And that’s okay. Most people are carrying their own weight.

So, when support is missing, be your own calm.
Let people go gracefully.
Bitter words — once said — leave lasting damage. Hold them back.

Let this post be a reminder:
Let your journey shape you, not shrink you.
Let your actions come from love, not pressure.
Because when you act from love, burnout fades. When you carry only expectations, it grows.

Have you felt something like this?
What did you become after your storm passed?

On Rain, Expectations, and Sitting with Myself

It’s raining outside. I sat by the window with a warm cup of tea — feeling a little sad, a little lost.
Some days just begin on the wrong note. And lately, these kinds of days seem to visit more often.

I’ve been through difficult times before — some of the worst phases of my life, actually. But strangely, I never felt as vulnerable back then as I do now.
The so-called mature version of me seems to have disappeared. In her place, I now see a tired, irritable version — a mother who loses her temper too easily.

It’s not the chores, or even my little tornado (my child), that wear me out. It’s something deeper — something inside me that feels… broken.
And every time I try to fix it, I feel like I end up breaking a little more.

So today, I sat with myself — with compassion and gentleness — to just listen.

I realized that sometimes, it’s not what we do that exhausts us.
It’s the weight of unspoken expectations, the quiet loneliness we carry in crowded rooms, and the constant inner dialogue of “what should have been.”

Expectations are cruel like that.
They cloud what’s clearly said. They blur what’s right in front of us.
They convince us that something amazing is just around the corner — and then laugh at us when it isn’t.
They aren’t promises. They’re illusions. And when they break, they make us feel foolish.

So here I am, gently teaching myself to expect less and accept more.
To fear less.
To finally show up for myself.

As the rain pours outside, maybe nature is crying with me — washing something off.
And maybe, just maybe, the sun will rise tomorrow a little warmer, a little softer.

Because looking after ourselves is no one else’s job. It’s ours.

Tell me, do you ever feel like this too?
And what little things in your day make you feel a bit more whole again?

How did you find your true passion?

Still Searching, Still Hoping

Finding my true passion?
Honestly, it has felt like looking for a pebble in the sea — small, elusive, and buried under layers I haven’t fully uncovered yet.

Growing up, I watched movies where the main character somehow always knew, or at least eventually discovered, their “one true calling.”
Their only obstacles were money, society, or family judgments — all of which, of course, got resolved just in time for a triumphant, passion-filled ending.
It looked so attractive. So possible. So clear.

But real life?

Well… there’s no villain in my story — just me and my not-so-magical struggle to figure out what I’m truly meant to do.
I’ve spent years (maybe even decades) wondering:
What is that one thing I’m meant for?
What’s my hidden gift?

And while I’ve tried many things, I still don’t feel like I’ve landed on the one.
In the real world, we can’t sit idle waiting for a miracle.
We take the conventional path — education, job, responsibilities.
It pays the bills.
It gives life structure.
But still, something inside keeps whispering that there’s more.

💡 I haven’t given up on that dream.

I still believe in tiny doors opening in unexpected places.
Maybe, just maybe, connecting with people, listening to their stories, and sharing mine will guide me a step closer to that hidden passion.

So I want to ask you, dear reader:
How did you find your true passion?
Or are you still searching too?

Who knows — your story might just open a door for someone else. Maybe even me.

Not Every Day is a Vacation

Some days are messy, disciplined, and ordinary — and maybe that’s what keeps us moving.

Not every day is a vacation.
Most days are just… life.
Working. Living. Surviving. Breathing.

But try not working — try doing nothing — and slowly, everything begins to feel bitter.
What first feels like rest soon turns into restlessness. The days stretch long, and even the simplest tasks — bathing, eating, tidying up — feel like mountains.

I’ve lived both extremes.
Years of strict parenting and routines, followed by days where I had full freedom to do whatever I wanted. And honestly, I’ve lived my life in all the wrong and right ways during those phases.

On lazy days, the plans stay trapped in my head, and my body just sloths through the hours.
No structure, no energy, no spark.
And yet — oddly enough — I’m grateful for the job I once didn’t love.
Because it gave my day a skeleton.
It made me get up, have breakfast, leave my bed, see people. It grounded me in small ways I didn’t notice then.

And now, life has come full circle —

My little tornado, my baby, doesn’t let me stay in bed even if I want to.

He doesn’t know about discipline or productivity — but he is the reason I’ve rediscovered both.
His energy, his routine, his needs — they’re gently teaching me to respect time again.

He’s reminding me that while chaos is real, so is structure, and we need both.

Life isn’t always glamorous.

But there’s a strange beauty in showing up — in doing the basics, even when it’s hard.
In eating well. In taking a bath.
In moving from “just surviving” to “gently living.”

And maybe that’s all we need to do today.