In the tapestry of life, I have watched closely—others and myself—pouring immense energy and attention into people around us. We become entangled in the idea that our worth is defined by how well we serve others, how much we’re needed, loved, admired, or validated. We invest in relationships like high-stakes gambles, often placing ourselves in situations where winning isn’t even possible.
We repeat the same emotional patterns, tirelessly trying to fix, please, or uplift someone else—often at the cost of our own peace. If we don’t succeed, we double our effort instead of questioning the direction. The guilt of not doing “enough” becomes a heavy burden we carry quietly. Somewhere along the way, we start believing that others’ happiness is our responsibility, and their disappointment, our failure.
Even in our kindest deeds, a quiet longing for recognition lingers. A thank you. A smile. A sense of being seen. We crave appreciation, admiration, or at least acknowledgment—believing that without these external stamps, our acts lose their meaning. We have been taught, consciously or unconsciously, to seek certificates from others to prove that our existence matters.
And who sits on this invisible judging panel? Parents, teachers, relatives, children, partners, society—they all hold the pen to our self-worth.
But pause. Just pause.
Give yourself time—real, undistracted time—to meet yourself. Not through someone else’s gaze, but your own. Ask gently:
Who am I beyond the roles I play?
What are my real goals, untouched by expectations?
What are the strengths I’ve overlooked in trying to mirror someone else’s definition of success?
What story am I living—and who is writing it?
The most sacred question arises: Is it You, or Others?
Let the pen return to your own hands. Rewrite. Realign. Remember that your life is not a report card to be graded by others—it’s a poem, a dance, a quiet unfolding of your truth.
Because the moment you stop living to be understood and start living to understand yourself, you finally arrive home.
