Date Archives March 2026

I wasn’t going to write tonight.

I was sitting with a small mountain of things I hadn’t done yet — deadlines I’d been circling, ideas still in my head, a list that felt longer than the afternoon. A little stressed. A little tired. And still a little sore from the intense workout yesterday.

And then I had a session with Dr. Madhu Chitkara.

By the end of it, something in me had shifted.

The last year was perhaps the longest year of my life. It was also the toughest. And for someone like me — someone who doesn’t easily speak about the details of what I’m feeling, who doesn’t naturally reach out and say “this is what’s making life hard right now”; it was quiet exhausting in ways anyone can imagine. The most I could do on my hardest days was say: “Hey, I’m having a difficult time. Can we do something beautiful together?”

“I need to go somewhere to heal.” I said that to a friend, just before my birthday. And without any hesitation or asking a hundred questions, he scheduled and booked an entire holiday for me. We invited a few of our other close friends to his place, to his country, and he showed us around.

And the space. Oh, the space people give me when I am not ready to speak. How much I appreciate that! When I am still somewhere inside myself, still figuring out what I was even feeling. It is something I am always grateful for.

(I’ve also been ghosted, deleted, and blocked for the space I take when I need it and if you’re wondering, yes, I admit it finally, but it is one of the things I’m working on healing this year.)

In the middle of all of it, I also quit pole dance. One of my most favourite things to do. Something that made me feel strong and beautiful and fully myself in my body. I just… stopped. And I’m still trying to go back. And somehow it’s not easy.

Anyway I went to gym instead and I ran. And ran. And ran on the treadmill; headphones in, everything tucked away, moving my body while trying to outpace whatever I was feeling inside.

And somewhere between the aching and this treadmill, I started loving the gym. I started talking to my trainer; not about sets and reps, but also about life. Spilling things I hadn’t said to anyone else. That space, those unexpected conversations, healed me in ways I still don’t fully have words for.

Sitting in today’s session for the International Women’s Day Celebration; being invited to the platform, being seen and appreciated for the books I’ve written and the journey I’ve traveled; I felt something I don’t let myself feel often enough.

Gratitude for myself and everyone who has helped me on this journey so far.

I kept looking ahead so relentlessly that I forgot to turn around and see how far I’ve already come and who all were still walking beside me. I forgot my own milestones. I forgot that I wrote books (on days it was difficult to speak). That I built something from scratch. That I kept showing up, even in a year that felt like the longest one of my life.

Life really does come in a beautiful big circle, again and again and again, until we learn to see the beauty in the chaos.

Looking back at last year, parts of it feel almost silly now — the way hard things sometimes do, once you’re on the other side. But I know: if it happened again, I would cry again. I would struggle again. I would take up space and lose a favourite thing and run on a treadmill and call it surviving.

And that’s okay. That’s the circle.

Tonight, I just want to say thank you.

To Dr. Madhu Chitkara, for the session that opened something in me today. To every person who showed up quietly last year, who bought me flowers on a random Tuesday, who booked a trip, who gave space, who listened without needing me to explain. To the gym, somehow. To the treadmill that held my tears. To this strange, hard, beautiful year.

And to myself, for still being here. Still looking. Still trying to remember the milestones while reaching for the next one.

I promise I’ll try this time, to be genuinely grateful for it all.

S.

I want you to try something.

Get a piece of paper and draw a line down the middle.

On the left, write everything that is in your control right now. On the right, write everything that isn’t.

Don’t overthink it. Just write.

I did this recently on a day when everything felt too big, too far and obviously too slow. And somehow I kept blaming my ruling planet. Anyway, what came out really surprised me.

My “in my control” list looked like this:

My time. My freedom with it. Reading. Writing. Taking care of my health. Growing spiritually. Meditating (My most favorite thing is to connect with myself). Practising gratitude (Another favorite one to look for sparkles on my way, always). My energy. My thoughts. My attention.

And my “not in my control” list? It looked like this:

The response to the last email I sent? How to figure everything out? What do other people think of my work? Will my books sell? Where? When? Whether I can leave my 9-5 someday? 

I stared at both lists for a good 32 minutes now. I also made a tiny note below each, about how I will feel after accomplishing each on the left as well as right? (This one is the most important step!)

And then I noticed something.

Everything on the left — every single thing I said was mine; was just a practice. Something I do. Something I show up for everyday. Something that belongs to me completely regardless of what the world does back.

Everything on the right was just an outcome. Something that happens to me, or doesn’t. Something that depends on timing, on other people, on forces I cannot magically manage from my desk at midnight. 

But this is where it hits me:

What if I don’t let the list on the right control the things I did anyway? (on the left)

A lot of us have been measuring the quality of our lives and our progress; entirely by the right column. The outcomes. The things we can’t control. And then wondering why we felt like we were always failing.

I wasn’t failing. Nor are you. We were just looking at the wrong list. The anxiety so many of us carry isn’t really about not knowing what to do. It’s about measuring ourselves against outcomes we haven’t reached yet. We could reach there or maybe we might never. And, even if we don’t, we will eventually get somewhere more magical, anyway?

And let’s talk about the “time” which is on the left side of the list. That time is yours.

Here’s what I’d invite you to add to your “in my control” column, if it isn’t there already:

What I choose to build with it and at what pace.

Because that one is yours too. Completely.

And you don’t have to figure out the end of the journey today.

You just have to decide what you’re doing this week.

Also, what’s the one thing on that list you want to actually show up for today?

Just do that. It’s enough. You are enough, You always have been.

— S

And yet. It is stupidly, inexplicably hard. I don’t fully understand it. But I think that’s allowed.

one takes you around the world,
the other brings you home to yourself.

you already know which one to hoard, don’t you?