love – Calm with Me

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.

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.

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?

Ripples from the Past, Strength for Today

Not every story has a sequel, but every chapter shapes who we are.

It just takes a pebble — something small, seemingly harmless — to stir ripples in still water. And sometimes, all it takes is a moment, a memory, or a breeze to stir old ripples in our lives, shaking emotions we thought were long buried.

Each of our lives is a storybook.
But not every story continues as a neat sequel.
Some chapters end abruptly, some fade out unfinished, and some leave behind more ache than answers.

And yet… they’re all ours.

Sometimes, we revisit those quiet alleys of our past — not because we want to, but because something pulls us there. A scent, a voice, a forgotten song.
And suddenly, we’re back — feeling everything all over again.
The sadness. The guilt. The loss.
We begin to wonder: Did I fail there? Did I choose wrong? Should I have done it differently?

But here’s something I want you — and myself — to remember today:

Taking a decision is brave. Living through it is braver.

No one else may say it, but I will:
You were strong then. You’re strong now.
Sometimes life doesn’t offer us the “right” choice — only the lesser wrong.
And in those moments, we do the best we can.

You may carry the weight of things unsaid or undone, but don’t let that drown you.
Hold yourself.
Breathe.
Place your hand on your heart and offer yourself compassion — the kind you so freely give to others.

This life — this one, imperfect, emotional, beautiful life — is still yours.

You don’t have to silence every ache.
You don’t need to erase old pages to write new ones.
You just need to remind yourself that you are a warrior of your own story.

Today, if you’re feeling weak, sad, or overwhelmed — it’s okay.
Hold yourself a little tighter.
Be gentle with your heart.
And whisper to yourself:
“This, too, will pass. I am healing. I am here.”