For years, I wanted to become my best self.

Every January, I wrote goals. Every year, I imagined a different version of me.

And every year, nothing really changed.

Until it did — quietly.

Last year didn’t arrive with motivation or clarity. It arrived with discomfort. With responsibility. With reality knocking far louder than I was prepared for.

I stepped out of my comfort zone and into uncertainty. Financial stress followed me everywhere. I went to interviews almost daily, carrying hope and exhaustion at the same time. I was in a new place, trying to hold myself together while also being there for my brother. Some days, survival felt like the only goal.

What saved me wasn’t a breakthrough moment. It was consistency.

I started meditating every day — not to become enlightened, but simply to breathe. To find a few minutes of peace when everything else felt unstable. Slowly, something shifted inside me. I stopped panicking as much. I started trusting myself a little more.

Eventually, I got a job. It wasn’t perfect, but it paid rent and bought groceries. Stability, even in its simplest form, felt like a victory. I took on a second job to support my family. Life became structured — wake up, work, repeat — and surprisingly, I began to like it.

Routine didn’t trap me. It grounded me.

Around the same time, I started running. At first, it was just a way to clear my head. Then it became discipline. Then belief. Within a year, I ran two marathons — something a past version of me would have laughed at. My body was doing things my mind once thought impossible.

I wasn’t chasing transformation. I was living it.

Then came 2025.

And it broke me in a way I didn’t see coming.

Something happened — something deeply painful — and I still struggle to put it into words. Some wounds are awkward to explain, heavy to name. There were moments when I felt completely helpless. Moments when staying alive felt harder than letting go.

But even then, the quiet shift continued.

Instead of collapsing, I chose to fight — not against anyone else, but against the version of myself that wanted to disappear. I joined martial arts. I let my body absorb what my mind couldn’t process. Falling, getting up, learning control — it mirrored everything I was going through inside.

Training didn’t just make me stronger.

It introduced me to a version of myself I didn’t know existed.

Confident. Resilient. Capable.

The real shift wasn’t about wanting to be better.

It was about becoming someone who shows up — even on days when hope feels distant.

No grand announcements.

No dramatic turning point.

Just small, disciplined choices that changed me from the inside out.

And that’s the quiet shift — the one that doesn’t ask for attention, but changes everything.

2024 was a year of awakening for me, as I emerged from my fantasy world and faced reality. It felt like entering a new world where I struggled with financial issues and the weight of responsibilities that kept me awake at night. I attended interviews daily, often returning with a sad expression, and tried hard to hide my emotions because I had to care for my brother, who had just moved in with me. We were both struggling, and I didn't want him to see me in my helpless state. It was his first time out of our hometown, and all he had was me . And I was not where I was supposed to be. But then i started meditating every day, sometimes i did for a few minutes and hours on the other. it made me calm, i started having hope to have a good life and get everything that i deserve. after 4 months of struggles, i joined a new job . it gave me financial security, even though it was not much of money but it was good enough to pay rent and groceries. After a month , i started working at another job to support my family.

My days were structured; I knew what to do and when. My meals were consistent—I had the same breakfast and lunch every day, which did wonders for my health. I gained control over my body, and my desires began to diminish. My mind and body were in sync. Most people dislike such routine days, but I loved them, and I still do. I worked every day, and my days often looked the same. People ask if I get burnout, but honestly, I’ve never felt that way, not even once. I enjoy what I do. I love my breakfast, look forward to lunch, and never skip dinner. I added running four times a week, which cleared my mind. I fell in love with it so much that I ran two marathons in a year, something I never thought I could do.

Everything was going well until I hit another rock bottom in 2025. I didn't realize there could be worse moments than the last incident, but life wanted to teach me another lesson. It was a hell of a ride—crying every day and unable to see myself clearly. Fear was always with me, and it still visits to remind me of that time. My world shook deeply. It felt like I was just getting back on my feet when someone suddenly pulled the rug, causing me to fall again.

Still, i can’t talk about it loudly or have a conversation about. it left a scar that never healed to this day.

i didn't wanna see myself crying, i hated those days when i was crying. I was helpless again, there was a moment when i thought everything is gone and there is nothing that could get better, so i should not… live, but i was not courageous enough to even do that. After spending days thinking and crying,i took it as a plot twist of my life, and i joined martial arts to help myself emotionally and be out there and do something i was afraid of . I loved every second when i was in the gym and now I can’t even imagine myself not doing it after years.

The more i fell, the higher i rose. all these situations made me realize how much potential i had in me, or still do, just needed to uncover it. it made me realize that i , too, can do hard things. I met the version of me i never knew existed. And this time i had no goal or vision board, but i met myself, i will forever be grateful for.

You randomly get a text from a group you never knew existed, but somehow you are part of it. You have no idea when and how, or why you are in this chat, and what these people are talking about. or when you try to send someoone important text but then autocorrect wanted to show off and be like, ‘ i will show you how a simple text can create a full chaos.’ and when all the applications starts rearrangung and updating themselves like i don’t take care of them. Hence, they took the work into their hands to get their feature better, and I

am no longer the owner of my own phone.

It doesn’t stop there. For no reason, your camera starts taking your pictures in weird angles, like, ‘let me show you how bad you look at this moment,’ which makes you question your existence.

“Maybe phones are just like roommates—— messy, unpredictable, but somehow necessary.”

not just our habits, but the way we think, speak, and even react.

everyone i’ve met - whether in my childhood, my teenage years ,or even just a few months ago- has left something behind in me. even those are no longer close , or no longer part of my life, still lives in small ways within me .

sometimesi say something and it sounds exactly like a specific person i once knew. other times , the way i react to a situation reminds me of my mom, or a friend . and when i notice it, i pause.

it makes me wonder if we are ever fully just ourselves .

maybe we are made of borrowed pieces — parts of people who taught us something, who loved us, who stayed for a season and then left. and somehow, those parts don’t disappear . they settle into us quickly.

then i think about myself .

what is my reaction?

what would i think , or how would i respond, if i hadn’t learned it from someone else?

it’s a mind bending thought- the idea that we are not only living our own lives, but also carrying echos of many other within us.

and maybe thats not strange at all.

maybe that’s what being human is .

i’d love to know your thoughts on it.

Leave a comment

Share

Subscribe now