There was a time when my life felt like one long argument—with myself, with people who left, with people who stayed but didn’t show up the way I wanted them to. Every disappointment turned into a courtroom where I was both the prosecutor and the accused.
Blame had a strange comfort. It gave shape to my confusion, like holding a cracked mirror and calling it proof. I could stay angry instead of admitting I felt small. I could rewrite stories where I tried the hardest, and somehow that made losing feel noble.
Blame is a cracked mirror—it shows you everything except yourself.
When things slipped, I’d make new plans—clean, color-coded ones. Plans that smelled like redemption. Every fresh start felt like caffeine for my self-esteem. And then, just when I’d feel in control, I’d break one promise, spiral, and rebuild again. It was productivity as penance.
The pattern was exhausting—motivation, burnout, guilt, repeat. I kept trying to fix myself with stricter routines, forgetting that shame is a terrible project manager. You can’t bully yourself into better.
Change didn’t come with a thunderclap. It arrived quietly, like an overdue truth finally clearing its throat.
I realized discipline isn’t the art of perfection—it’s the art of staying when you’d rather escape.
It’s brushing your teeth when you hate your reflection.
It’s keeping one small promise, not to prove anything, but because your word deserves weight.
Life still gets messy. I still overthink, cancel plans, rewrite timelines, and occasionally self-destruct in style. But there’s more awareness now. Less panic, more pause.
The pull to restart everything has softened into learning how to continue.
The funny contrast is—my goals haven’t changed much. I still want growth, health, stability, adventure. What’s changed is why I want them. Earlier, I wanted success to quiet my shame. Now, I want peace because I’m tired of the noise.
I’ve learned strength isn’t a war cry. It’s the quiet refusal to abandon yourself. It’s showing up when you’d rather scroll, eat, sleep, or sulk.
Every mountain I thought I was climbing was just a reflection of the distance between who I am and who I keep postponing being.
That distance is smaller now. Still hard, still human, but mine to climb.
Vasu it hard to write about our own downsides.But you always write about your downside .Which give strength to the peaples who also going through the same and the courage that they are not alone .And it showing that you can do a new start at any timeor any phase of your life .Love you baccha .you always amzed me with your writeups.keep writing and inspired to ppls like me .
Thanks maa, for being my constant cheerleader.