Posts by Berry Better

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?

i was born at one end,
and somewhere at the other, a destination waits
that i have not yet learned to name.

between the two was a tightrope. and me, almost always tripping.

i packed for the journey like i was moving forever
luxury handbags stuffed with cheap opinions, expectations,
and the weight of being perceived,
and every other beautiful thing i wanted to keep.

on the outside, i carried everything.
on the inside, i am hollow, without any luxury labels.

for the longest time i thought the bags defined me.
that the fuller my arms, the more i was worth.

that balance meant holding on;
to all of it, always, perfectly.
or at least pretending to do so..

It took me one-third of my life to learn this –
that balance was never about holding
to all your favorites, perfectly.

but it is about learning
what to let go of mid-air.

the rope did not care what i carried.
it only cares if i am present.
am i here, in this step, this breath, this view?

but i kept looking at the bags. and i tripped.
over and over..

and the falling — oh god, the falling.

on the outside it looked like an embarrassing mess.
on the inside it was the first time
i saw my own reflection clearly.

not like the one in the mirror hung on my wall,
but in the rock bottom that caught me and said,
“look. this is who you are;
when nothing is holding you up.”

you could never have seen her from the rope.
you had to fall to find her.

and yet again i climbed back; lighter this time.
leaving behind what the fall had loosened from my grip.

the views along the way
i used to walk past them,
cautious and always calculating the time
i could spend there.

now i stop. i let them in.
there is nothing wrong with staying longer
at places that make your soul go still.

the outside world somehow calls it losing time.
the inside world might call it finally living.

and the people

some walked beside me and made the rope feel wider,
like maybe i wasn’t meant to do this alone.

and others;
unable to carry the pain of their own,
cut the rope without any obvious reasons.

and here is what i know now;
both were the journey.
both were teachers i did not ask for
and could not have done without.

the ones who carried me
showed me what love and magic looks like.
and the dear ones who cut the rope
showed me i could fall and still, still, find my way back up.

on the outside, life looked like a performance
the balancing act, the graceful steps
and the perfect yoga-like posture.

on the inside, life is something far more honest
the trembling, the doubt, the quiet strength every single morning
to step forward anyway.

we arrived with nothing.
we might leave with nothing either;
took me many round-trips around this huge ball of fire
to learn this..

and no matter how selective you are;
yet; every trip, every view, every person, every fall
becomes a part of you.

not in the bags.
and definitely not on the labels outside those.
but somewhere deep, where the rope cannot reach

in the part of you that learned to balance not by holding on,
but by finally, beautifully, letting go.

and i will share another crushed memo
i found on my way –

it was never about crossing the rope without any fall.
it was always about who you were becoming after every fall.

We spend so much of our lives waiting for something big to happen – that PR approval or a much-awaited promotion, or that grand proposal, or simply a turning point on whatever crossroads you’re on. I, personally, have been waiting for all those (don’t know about you). But what if the real gems are hidden in our daily routines, in the little joys we practice, in the most random and ordinary moments we learn to appreciate?

Ps. I tried listing all my LITTLE big wins!

Little things, nothing big. ♥️

I love having my little morning routine,
some gratitude practice before I make my little to-do list.
Sometimes a little over hundred things on my list;
not because I’m obsessed with chasing;
but because I love making little promises to me.

No phone for a while, ofc.
Little affirmations whispering to myself;
the kind I don’t say too boldly because I’m still learning to believe them on hard days.
Favorite coffee in my little cup.
(This one actually shrank a little too much in my pottery class)
and somehow feels more mine because it’s imperfect.

And I might have ticked off little milestones,
like mentoring a bunch of CEOs
and sometimes little kids;
two very different worlds,
both reminding me in little ways how much I still have to learn.

Little notes (here and there!),
wondering if I did enough;
if I showed up with enough patience, kindness or love.

Little lines written in a few books
lying somewhere I can’t quite recall.
Little words drafted on my phone,
then rewritten in my sparkly notebook.
Then never made it to any book or blog;
just little thoughts that existed to hold me in that moment.

Little coffee-themed thoughts;
spilled at times, left unfinished the other,
sometimes forgotten before it even brewed. (I promise to finish this book series someday!)

Little ideas that later become pages.
(Not always though!)
Some ideas were just passing-by,
arriving slowly and leaving without asking to stay.

Little sneak peeks on television at times.
A little voiceover in a K-drama;
little moments of being seen,
that feel unreal for a second and ordinary the next.

Little photo shoots; all because I love doing it.
A cocktail of little too bold and shy;
learning how to stand in my own frame
without having to put on a mask.

A little time spent building something kind.
Little reminders that kindness counts;
even when no one claps for it.

A little workout at the end of a little long day.
(Still in my baby steps each day!)
nothing like a big transformation,
just love showing up in my own little ways. (because no one else did..)
Little yoga, added too!

A little dance on some Sundays
yet to get back to it again, just for myself;
saved for the version of me that is ready again..

Little evening rituals
with my favorite little longer bath routine.
(If you know this, you know me so well)

Little tooo much glitters in my bathtub lately!
Little scents that linger longer than the day did.
Lights dim.
Music playing low;
as if the world is finally lowering its voice for me.

Little reading before sleep.
Little reflections between who I was
and who I’m becoming;
Little conversations with my past self,
Little promises to my future self.
Just little joys.
Nothing big.
And somehow, everything.

If you’re reading this and your days feel heavy,
try noticing just one little thing today.
One little joy.
One little moment you can embrace forever..

You don’t have to change your whole life at once.
Sometimes, it’s enough to make a little change;
or make today just a little better than yesterday.

#LittleJoys #Grateful #BerryyBetter

It’s strange how some feelings can’t be described in words at all. I have been trying to catch up with all the emotions and translate them in writing. But can this really be translated? It just sits with me. Quietly. Like it always belonged here. Somehow it’s still hard to put it in words. And it’s even funnier, I call myself a writer?

I really thought I had already left this behind.
I really did.
I told myself I wasn’t carrying it anymore. But some baggage is… weirdly heavier. Not in a way that it is dragging me down. More like a familiar weight you don’t realize you’re still holding until you just can’t flip the next page.

Or maybe it’s all just in my head.
I keep telling myself that too.

Every morning, I made a prmoise to myself to do something different and make a fresh new start. Has it been a month already?

And yet, something in me lingers. I don’t exactly know what.
Just enough to make me stop a little longer and feel it all before moving forward.

It feels like I’m being quietly pushed towards acceptance, even though I’ve never been good at letting my emotions come to the surface easily. I’ve learned to keep them folded neatly inside; layered with little puzzles that no one can really decode.

Still, sitting with them like this oddly annoys me to the core, too. Or maybe writing this piece in the first place wasn’t such a good idea. Whatever it is, something about this moment makes me a little nauseous. Why is it so scary to let emotions come up at all? Do I need to name it always? Fix it? Probably not. I guess letting it out; just this much, is already taking more courage than I’d like to admit.

Anyway, it’s already the 31st of January. Somehow, time did move forward without waiting for my heart to catch up.

Maybe some chapters don’t have an ending at all. Or do they end with spaces for us to fill in – with whatever our heart desires to? Or maybe, for once, just for once, I am tired of filling all those spaces..

I don’t know. All I know is that I’m still here, standing at the edge of something new, pretending I’m not afraid of what’s on the next page.

Or maybe I did accept it, after all.

I hopefully can turn this page when I wake up tomorrow.

I turned a page in my life I didn’t know existed and suddenly, I was standing in a quiet town in the middle of nowhere. The air was thinner with some magic sprinkled; and the waves in the ocean seemed to be dancing on some beats all night long.. I so wanted to flip the page to find out where I was, but also stay on the same — to experience the hypnotic a little longer!!

The sky was full of glitters; similar to the one in my bathtub early that morning and I stared at the sky for more than I can really recall! “How did I even end up here?” – My mind asked countless such questions to the UNIVERSE.. They say, “If you can dream it; you really can make it!” But I hadn’t even dreamt of such a moment ever before; all I wanted was to enjoy the fireworks In the middle of city – surrounded by thousand others I barely knew; singing to music I’ve never heard on this new year’s eve..

So; how did I really drift to this page? The quiet dance of the waves was more comforting than I had ever thought. There was beauty in solitude too? I thought to myself.. The night was quiet and except for the magic I already mentioned, there was no other sign from the Universe.. I passed out sometime closer to midnight; and cannot recall any special dream answering my inquisitive mind..

The wind next morning seemed to have flipped the page, even though I had bookmarked the night carefully between my countless looping thoughts.. I woke up with the strange feeling of having lost something I couldn’t really name; as if the universe had quietly answered my questions and sprinkled all its cosmic powdery like substance before sunrise and left without saying goodbye.

So many of us do leave without saying goodbye, too.

I did want to stay there a little longer, hanging between a page I never finished and a place I was never meant to be there in the first place..

Nonetheless, the sun rose unapologetically carrying all the charm and beauty despite the darkest clouds. A lavender sky stretched as far as my eyes could see and heart could feel; the exact shade of the lavender wine we had sipped the night before. It felt like the sky was mirroring some past memories wrapped in some strange mockery; reminding me that some moments exist only to be remembered, not repeated.

We went out for morning coffee, pretending the world had always been this calm. And, for the first time in ages, I hadn’t felt the rush of doing it all. Strangely, the coffee cup carried this heavy little message, “Good Coffee for Good People.” The Good Coffee sure did its charm of warming our palms, and the rising steam vanishing like quiet prayers, and conversations in my head still hovering somewhere between presence and absence. Everything felt tender, as if the day itself was afraid to speak too loudly and shatter whatever spell the night had cast.

People walked past us, living their ordinary lives, unaware that a small universe had existed just hours ago, somewhere between the ocean and my thoughts.

And yet, the day unfolded like a dream that never quite happened..

I carried the night inside me; the feeling of being exactly where I didn’t plan to be but somehow belonged. I kept replaying the moment I stared at the sky, wondering how I had arrived there at all. Maybe some places are not destinations but reminders. Reminders that magic does exist, just not in ways we can hold onto. It visits, lingers, and leaves before we learn how to ask it to stay.

By evening, reality had fully reclaimed me. The sounds were louder, the colors less bright, the world once again practical and heavy with responsibilities. Yet something in me had shifted; a soft knowing that even if I couldn’t return to that page, I had read it once. And that, somehow, felt enough.

Maybe that’s how life moves: flipping pages when we’re not ready, carrying us forward even when we’re still rereading the last line. Maybe the beauty isn’t in staying, but in being allowed to witness — even briefly — a version of the world that feels like a secret meant just for you.

And somewhere between coffee cups and lavender skies in this small town in Western Australia, I had learned this, “Life’s most meaningful moments are often temporary, unplanned, & perhaps unrepeatable and learning to let them remain beautiful memories, rather than trying to hold onto them, is part of growing.”

01.01.2026
S. in Margaret River

It might sound silly but I’m writing this to myself because I need to hear it out loud from someone, anyone, and maybe that someone has to be me right now. Lately, I think I’ve been carrying so much; so many expectations, so many emotions, so many roles – all at once. I’ve tried to be the understanding one, the mature one, the kind one, the person who sees every side, the one who keeps everyone else afloat. And I’ve done it quietly, without complaint, because that felt like the “right” thing to do.

But today, I think I really needed to remind myself: I really don’t have to do it all. I don’t have to always be the strong one or the right one or the kindest one. I don’t have to understand or forgive or carry what isn’t mine alone. I can step back. I can pause. I can still take care of me first.

“You’re not wrong for feeling done. You’re human for feeling tired. And you’re brave for even admitting it out loud.
.
.
.
It’s okay to take a step back and let others meet you halfway..”

I need to remember that it’s okay to expect others to meet me halfway. I’ve given so much, and sometimes it feels like no one notices, no one reflects it back, no one sees the weight I’m carrying. And that’s not a failure on my part or anyone’s responsibility either; it’s simply a reminder that not everyone is ready or willing to share the load (yet).

So I am finally giving myself permission: permission to rest, to apuse, and to just breathe. Permission to take a break without guilt, to slow down, and to check in with my own heart before anyone else’s. Permission to also protect my peace and my energy, because I have worked really hard for it and they are precious, and they matter.

So in the meantime… I will just be. I will let things unfold at their own pace and allow myself the patience I’ve long given to others.