There’s a point in your life when things start to feel like they’re coming full circle. Old patterns return—not to punish, but to teach. This is karmic closure. It’s the quiet but powerful moment when you realize the chaos, the pain, and the heartbreaks were never random. They were assignments. And you’re finally graduating.
Lately, I’ve been moving through what feels like the last lap of an emotional marathon. Old wounds resurface. Familiar dynamics test me. But this time, I’m not reacting the same way. That’s the difference. That’s the growth. This is what healing looks like—not perfect but different. Not passive, but conscious.
I’m learning that growth doesn’t always look like adding new habits or gaining new insights. Sometimes, it’s about unlearning—shedding the beliefs that were never truly ours. The idea that we have to earn love. That we have to prove our worth. That struggle is a prerequisite for peace. These are things I’m leaving behind.
We don’t grow by staying in the light. We grow through contrast. By feeling the sting of not being chosen, we learn to choose ourselves. By sitting in rejection, we find acceptance. It’s not about becoming perfect—it’s about becoming whole. Every hard moment was a mirror, showing us the parts of ourselves we needed to see.
For a long time, I chased worthiness outside of myself. If I worked harder, looked better, and cared more—maybe then I’d be enough. But chasing something that’s already inside you is exhausting. And pointless. What I’ve learned is that worth isn’t something you earn; it’s something you remember. It’s a quiet truth that lives beneath the noise of fear and conditioning.
Contrast teaches. You don’t know freedom until you’ve felt trapped. You don’t understand peace until you’ve lived with chaos. And you can’t truly love yourself until you’ve faced the parts of you that felt unlovable. These are the lessons I’m holding with gratitude—not because the pain was easy, but because it was necessary.
Karmic closure isn’t just about ending a chapter. It’s about integrating the story. Taking the pain and turning it into wisdom. Owning your role in the pattern, but also forgiving yourself for not knowing better at the time. You’re not here to be perfect. You’re here to evolve.
I’m not who I was, and I’m not yet who I’m becoming. But I’m in that sacred space between—a liminal zone where endings blur into beginnings. It’s messy. It’s real. And it’s where the magic happens.
To anyone else walking through the fire right now: keep going. You’re not being punished—you’re being initiated. And when you come out the other side, you’ll carry light you never knew you had.
We Were Together Like Railway Tracks
We were together like railway tracks — always beside each other, moving in the same direction, bound by a shared path, yet never truly meeting. It’s a metaphor that encapsulates the quiet ache of emotional distance in a relationship that, from the outside, seemed to be aligned.
There was routine, a sense of partnership, shared responsibilities, and even laughter at times. But beneath it all was a silent truth: we were two people running parallel, not intertwined. We looked like a team, functioned like one, and moved forward through life’s stations side by side — and yet, something was always missing. Connection.
Like railway tracks, we supported the same train — the home, the children, the daily grind. But the closeness was an illusion. We didn’t intersect emotionally. We didn’t meet in vulnerability, in true understanding, or in raw, unfiltered presence. We lived lives filled with ‘doing’ rather than ‘being’ — always moving, never stopping to really see each other.
I used to believe proximity meant connection. Being physically close, sleeping in the same bed, and sharing meals and travelling meant we were together. But I’ve come to understand that emotional intimacy isn’t guaranteed by geography. It’s built in those moments of stillness, eye contact, heart-to-heart honesty — all of which became rare.
Sometimes, I would reach out, hoping for that spark, the crossing point, the intersection where we could meet — heart, mind, and soul. But each attempt felt like a passing signal, acknowledged briefly and then forgotten. The more we moved forward, the more I realized we were just going through the motions.
And that’s the paradox of being like railway tracks. You’re essential to the journey. You carry the same weight. You share the same goal. But you are still apart.
Now, I choose to pause at my own station. To reflect on what it means to truly meet someone — and to not mistake being beside someone for being with them. Maybe the tracks we were on weren’t broken — maybe they just weren’t meant to merge.
Some journeys aren’t about meeting in the end. They’re about realizing when it’s time to stop running parallel and start finding your own path — one that leads not just beside someone but toward a true connection.
The Power of Intuition: A Free Gift That Shapes Our World
Intuition is often misunderstood. People associate it with mysticism or gut feelings that can’t be explained. But intuition is not magic—it’s a quiet, powerful process that draws on experience, observation, and pattern recognition. It’s a gift, yes—but one anyone can develop.
“Intuition is a gift that is as free as the breeze. Its compelling clarity spawns inventions and bridges uncertainties.” That sentence captures something vital: intuition isn’t just a vague sense. It’s a form of inner clarity that helps us make bold decisions, navigate uncertainty, and even spark creativity in moments of doubt.
What Is Intuition?
At its core, intuition is fast, subconscious thinking. It’s how your brain makes sense of complex situations when there’s no time for step-by-step analysis. Have you ever made a decision you couldn’t justify logically—but it turned out to be right? That’s intuition at work.
Contrary to the myth, it’s not anti-rational. It works alongside reason, drawing on your internalized knowledge and experience over time. In short, it’s an informed instinct.
Why Intuition Matters
Think of all the key breakthroughs in history—scientific discoveries, technological inventions, and creative masterpieces. Many of them began not with data but with a hunch. An unshakeable sense that something was worth exploring.
Inventors often say they “just knew” a concept would work before they could prove it. Entrepreneurs take risks not because the numbers guarantee success but because their intuition tells them there’s something there. That’s the compelling clarity intuition brings. It doesn’t just help you make choices—it helps you trust them.
In uncertain times, when logic runs out and variables multiply, intuition becomes essential. It bridges the gap between what we know and what we can’t yet fully see.
How to Develop Your Intuition
Intuition isn’t a rare talent. It’s a skill—and like any skill, it improves with practice.
Here’s how to sharpen yours:
1. Pay Attention to Patterns
Intuition feeds on exposure. The more you observe how things work—people, systems, outcomes—the more your brain can spot patterns subconsciously. Reflect on past decisions and outcomes. What worked? What didn’t? What did your gut say?
2. Create Quiet Space
Noise—mental or digital—drowns out intuition. Step away from constant stimulation. Take walks. Sit in silence. Let your mind wander. That’s when intuitive thoughts surface.
3. Trust Small Hunches
Start with low-stakes situations. Follow your gut on small decisions and track how it plays out. Over time, you’ll build confidence in your inner compass.
4. Balance Intuition with Reason
Strong intuition doesn’t ignore facts. It works best when checked against logic. Use it to guide your questions and direct your attention—not to replace critical thinking, but to enhance it.
5. Learn From Diverse Inputs
Expose yourself to different experiences, ideas, and people. Intuition thrives when it has a wide library to draw from. The more varied your inputs, the sharper your instincts become.
Final Thoughts
Intuition is not a shortcut. It’s a different kind of intelligence—one that operates beneath the surface but proves itself in outcomes. It’s as free as the breeze, yes. But like the wind, it can shape powerful change when channelled well.
Developing your intuition isn’t about rejecting logic. It’s about embracing another layer of insight—one that can lead you to breakthroughs when certainty is out of reach.
So pay attention. Stay open. And trust that your mind knows more than you think it does.
Perseverance: The Quiet Power Behind Every Success
In a world that glorifies overnight success and viral breakthroughs, it’s easy to believe that a single burst of effort—a grand gesture, a big risk, or one intense push—is all it takes to achieve our dreams. But the truth is far less glamorous and far more grounded: real success is built through perseverance.
A single burst of effort may get us started, but it rarely carries us to the finish line. The road to any meaningful goal is long, winding, and often filled with setbacks. It’s not the one-time leap that defines us—it’s the willingness to keep walking, even when the path gets hard, when motivation wanes, and when results are slow to show up.
Perseverance means showing up when it’s boring, staying focused when it’s tough, and moving forward when it’s tempting to quit. It’s the quiet decision to try again after failure, to refine after rejection, and to trust the process even when the destination seems distant.
Every writer who’s finished a book, every athlete who’s trained for years, every entrepreneur who’s built something from the ground up—they all share this one trait: perseverance. It’s not about talent alone or timing. It’s about the resolve to keep going, one step at a time.
Success doesn’t come from intensity—it comes from consistency. It’s not the fire of one moment but the steady burn of commitment that makes dreams real.
So, if you’re feeling stuck, tired, or unsure, remember this: you don’t need to do everything today. You just need to keep going. Progress is progress, no matter how small.
In the end, it’s not the spark that lights the whole journey—it’s the flame that refuses to die out.
Trauma as a Teacher: The Wake-Up Call We Never Asked For
Trauma was my wake-up call; it hurt, but it also showed me who I AM.
We don’t choose trauma. It crashes in uninvited—messy, painful, disorienting. And yet, for many of us, it becomes the pivot point. The moment everything changed. Not because we wanted it, but because we couldn’t ignore it. When it hit me, I didn’t feel brave or wise. I felt broken and confused, like the ground I was standing on had disappeared.
At that time, it felt like the worst thing that could happen. Now? I see it differently.
What if trauma isn’t just something to survive but something that is revealed?
Not in a “think positive” way that ignores real pain—but in the raw truth that, once shattered, you don’t put the pieces back the same way. You build something new. Something more honest.
Trauma strips away illusions. The stories we told ourselves. The roles we played. It forces us to confront what’s real—about ourselves, our limits, our values, and our path. It’s contrast: darkness that teaches us to recognise our light. My trauma became my teacher. Maybe it’s not punishment. Maybe it’s permission—to wake up. To remember what matters. To remember who we are and our soul journey.
Because sometimes the universe whispers, and we ignore it. Then it shakes us. And that shake—violent as it may be—isn’t the end. It’s an activation. A reset. A deeper calling that says: you were made for more than just getting by.
So no, I and you didn’t deserve what happened. But we get to decide what happens next.
Carl Jung once said, “I am not what happened to me; I am what I choose to become.”
That line stayed with me. Over time, I realized my trauma wasn’t just pain—it was a mirror. It showed me everything I had been avoiding: the wounds I never healed, the patterns I kept repeating, and the parts of myself I’d silenced.
It was a brutal kind of clarity. But it was also honest.
I started to see that life wasn’t punishing me. It was trying to wake me up. I had been asleep to myself—distracted, disconnected, and living for everyone but me. Trauma interrupted that autopilot. It was the shake I needed.
If you’re carrying trauma, know this: it’s not your identity. But it might be your initiation. Into something real. Into purpose. Into a version of you that was always there—just waiting to be remembered.
“Life doesn’t happen to you; it happens for you.” – Tony Robbins
That quote used to sound cliché. Until it didn’t. Until I lived through it. And I saw that even in the breakdown, something was forming—a new way of seeing, of feeling, of being. The pain didn’t just tear me down. It showed me what needed rebuilding.
I wouldn’t wish trauma on anyone. But I can say this with full truth: it activated me.
It pushed me into my healing. Into deeper awareness. Into purpose. It made me question everything—and in that questioning, I remembered who I am.
So no, trauma isn’t your identity. But it might be your catalyst. It might be the moment your soul decided: enough sleepwalking—it’s time to wake up.
You don’t have to be grateful for what hurt you. But you can respect what it taught you.
I do. It changed everything.
Forgiveness Isn’t Forgetting — And That’s Okay
We like to think that the chapter is closed once we’ve forgiven someone. But now and then, a thought sneaks in: Did they ever regret what they did to me? After everything — the loyalty, the honesty, the years of showing up — how could they just walk away or betray that?
And suddenly, we’re questioning ourselves: If I still think about it, does that mean I haven’t truly forgiven them?
Not necessarily.
Forgiveness is a decision. It’s choosing to let go of the need for revenge, the weight of anger. But it doesn’t mean the pain disappears. It doesn’t mean the memories stop surfacing or that the questions stop coming. Asking whether someone ever felt remorse isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a sign that you cared deeply. It’s the echo of your own integrity bouncing around the silence they left behind.
Regret is a human thing — we all want to believe that when we give our best, it matters. When we lose something or someone because of betrayal or cruelty, the other person feels it too. So when that doubt surfaces — when you wonder if they ever truly understood what they lost — it doesn’t mean you’re stuck. It means you’re still healing.
Forgiveness is about you, not them. It’s something you do so you can move forward, not so they can feel better. But healing isn’t a straight line. Some days, you’re fine. Other days, the question hits you like a wave: Did it mean nothing to them?
That question doesn’t make you bitter. It makes you human.
The truth is, you might never know if they regret it. And maybe that’s what hurts most — the silence, the lack of acknowledgement. But their regret, or lack of it, doesn’t define your worth. Your loyalty, your honesty — that was real. And nothing they did can take that away from you.
So no, wondering doesn’t mean you haven’t forgiven them. It just means you’re still reckoning with the cost. And that’s part of healing, too.
Healing is a journey, not a destination.
When Love Has Miles Between It: My Truth About Long-Distance Marriage
Long-distance relationships (LDRs) aren’t just about miles—they’re about effort, timing, and emotional grit. From the outside, people often romanticize them. But on the inside, it’s much more complicated. Most couples don’t talk about how hard it gets—not just the distance, but what happens when you’re finally in the same room again.
I know this firsthand.
My husband and I were together for 26 years. But if you count the time we spent side by side, it adds up to 15 years. He was often away for work, and I held down everything else—our kids, the house, the office, life itself. I had no choice but to step into every role. I became both mother and father. I had to be strong, and sometimes that strength came across as anger. I know I wasn’t always easy. But I was doing my best to keep everything from falling apart.
When he came home, he wanted to step in—but on his terms. We’re both independent. We’re both strong-willed. And when two dominant personalities try to share space again after long stretches apart, it’s not always a warm reunion. It’s more like two tectonic plates trying to align. There was love, yes—but also friction. He often called me difficult. He judged me for being too strict, too serious, too much. But he didn’t see what it took to survive without him.
Looking back now, after our separation for 5 years, I can admit something I didn’t want to see before: I was choosing us, but he wasn’t. I believed my love could carry both of us. I thought it was enough. But his actions told a different story. He was critical, distant when present, and made me feel I was constantly falling short. I started doubting myself. I started blaming myself.
It took me time—and space—to realize the truth. His judgment didn’t come from clarity. It came from his own unresolved issues. He was dealing with a lack of self-love and self-respect, and instead of facing that, he projected it onto me.
What I’ve Learned from Long-Distance Marriage
Communication is more than just check-ins. It’s not enough to know someone’s safe or busy. Emotional connection has to stay alive, and that takes deep, honest talk.
Reunions aren’t always romantic. Being apart builds habits. Being together again means unlearning and adjusting—and that’s often uncomfortable.
Love isn’t enough if respect is missing. One person can’t carry the whole weight of a relationship. It has to be mutual—effort, care, patience, all of it.
Judgment from your partner is not love. Constant criticism is a reflection of their inner conflict, not your worth.
Your survival instincts can turn into self-neglect. Just because you can do it all alone doesn’t mean you should have to.
To Anyone in a Long-Distance Relationship Right Now
You are not too much. You are not too hard to love. And you are not wrong for needing effort, respect, and emotional safety in return.
If you feel alone in your relationship, don’t ignore that feeling. If you’re the only one doing the emotional heavy lifting, pause and ask yourself: What am I giving up to keep this going?
Love should never cost you your self-worth.
You deserve partnership, not performance. You deserve to be met halfway—not just when it’s convenient, but consistently. And if someone can’t give you that, it’s not your failure. It’s your wake-up call.
Be honest with yourself. Be kind to yourself. And above all, don’t shrink to fit someone else’s comfort.
You’re worth more than being “managed.” You’re meant to be loved fully—for all that you are.
Now’s the Time to Move Forward
If you’ve been stuck in a rut—mentally, emotionally, creatively—this is your sign to shake things up. The fog is clearing, and new options are on the table. The confusion about what’s next? It’s starting to lift. You don’t need to have everything figured out—you just need to start.
Progress doesn’t come from waiting for perfect conditions. It comes from taking small steps consistently. One small decision can create a ripple effect. Say yes to something different. Apply for that opportunity. Start the project you’ve been putting off. Reach out to someone who inspires you. These aren’t just tasks—they’re shifts in momentum.
What matters now is movement. The goal isn’t instant transformation. It’s forward motion. And when you move, even in small ways, your mindset starts to shift, too. You build confidence. You create proof that change is possible. You stop feeling stuck because you’re no longer standing still.
Don’t talk yourself out of it with fear or doubt. Not everything has to be crystal clear to be worth pursuing. Trust your gut. If something feels like a step in the right direction, it probably is. You can course-correct as you go. The important thing is going.
This is how you break out of stagnancy: by acting, not waiting. By choosing progress over perfection. You’ve got more control than you think—you just have to claim it. One decision. One step. That’s how it starts.
The chance to do something new is here. Don’t let it pass. Use it. Build on it. You don’t need to be fearless—just committed. Your future isn’t built in giant leaps. It’s built in small, consistent wins. And the first one starts now.
I Choose Me
I am worthy. Of love. Of respect. Of joy. Of a life that feels good in my soul—not just one that looks good on the outside. I don’t need to justify this. I don’t need reasons. Simply being here is enough.
But life doesn’t always make it easy to hold on to that truth.
Especially as women, we’re taught to give endlessly, to smile through pain, and to dim our light so others don’t feel insecure. We carry everyone else’s weight and then blame ourselves when we collapse.
I’ve done that. I’ve explained myself one too many times. To friends. To family. To a society that seems determined to make me feel like I’m too much—or not enough.
I’ve been surrounded by people who claim to care but seem to thrive on cutting me down. People who see my confidence, my energy, my presence—and instead of celebrating it, try to chip away at it.
Maybe they’re intimidated. Maybe they’re envious. I don’t know. I no longer care.
Today, I stopped seeking permission to be whole. I take back my power. I choose myself—not from ego, but from love. Real unconditional love. The kind I’ve always given so freely to others, and now, finally, to me.
If you’re meant to walk this journey with me, you will. If not, go in peace. My heart holds no hatred.
I am here to live fully. Loudly. Unapologetically.
I am done shrinking.
if you feel this too, know you’re not alone. Let’s stop apologising for existing. Let’s start choosing ourselves—together.
We all are responsible for our own suffering. Stop blaming and take responsibility
Blame is an easy escape, yet it never grants true freedom. Instead, it traps the mind in a cycle of false perception, reinforcing the illusion that suffering is caused by external forces. It’s tempting to believe that someone else’s words, actions, or choices are responsible for pain, but what if suffering is not about what happened, but rather how it is perceived, processed, and held onto?
The mind weaves intricate narratives, constructing stories around wounds and assigning fault. It clings to pain, attaching emotions to past events, making them feel ever-present. But the moment blame is given away, so is power. Blame directs focus outward, leaving peace dependent on whether someone else changes, apologizes, or makes amends. But what if peace was never theirs to give? What if it has always been a personal choice?
No one can control the actions of others. People will make mistakes. They will be unfair, they will disappoint, and they may never seek to repair the damage they’ve caused. Yet, what happens next—the emotions carried forward, the way the experience is framed, and the meaning assigned to it—remains a choice. True strength is found in recognizing that suffering is not created by external events but by the mind’s attachment to what cannot be changed.
Taking responsibility for one’s emotions is not about excusing those who have hurt us. It is about reclaiming power. Pain is inevitable, but suffering is a choice. It’s the decision to view hardships as lessons rather than burdens, to shift from victimhood to personal growth. The world will not always be just, but inner peace is not shaped by the fairness of life—it is shaped by perception and response.
Letting go of blame does not mean invalidating pain. It means refusing to let past hurts dictate the future. It is the realization that life is not something that simply happens to you but something that is actively shaped by you. In every moment, there is a choice: to remain trapped in resentment or to step into empowerment.
Freedom begins when responsibility is embraced. Peace is not granted by others; it is cultivated within. In the end, the only true control is over oneself. That is where real strength—and true liberation—is found.
SELF LOVE AND SOUL HEALING 