𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨

Life update: I am finally employed. Not just in a random job, but in the role I genuinely wanted "Human Resources Executive". My interest in HR started much earlier than college. It was because of my elder sister, who work as an HR. Growing up, I admired the confidence she carried and the responsibility that came with her role. I don't know if "power" is the perfect word, but I was fascinated by the influence she had and the way she handled people and situations. Watching her made me curious about the profession, and over time that curiosity grew into a dream. I wanted to become an HR professional too. However, life rarely follows a straight path. I pursued a Bachelor's degree in English Language and Literature, and for a long time, I wasn't even sure whether I could enter the field of HR. There were moments when the dream felt distant and uncertain. I often wondered whether my educational background would allow me to pursue the career I trul...

For the longest time, I was the person who always said yes. Yes, even when I was tired. Yes, even when I didn’t feel like stepping out. Yes, even when I needed time for myself but couldn’t ask for it. I made myself available easily, constantly, without question. Saying no felt heavy. It needed explanations, justifications, long reasons to make it sound acceptable. So I avoided it. I chose comfort for others over honesty for myself. And no one called that selfish. No one said I was giving too much. No one stopped to ask if I was okay. Because it was convenient. But the moment I paused, the moment I took a step back, the moment I chose myself just once, everything changed. Suddenly, I was “selfish.” It’s strange, isn’t it? When you give endlessly, it becomes your role, your identity, something people start to expect from you. And the second you break that pattern, it feels like betrayal to them. But here’s the truth. Choosing yourself is not selfish. It only feels that way to...

There’s a kind of emptiness that grows quietly in childhood, when your emotions stay inside more than they are spoken. I love my mom. I really do. I respect her deeply, and I know how much she has done for me and our family. That love is real and constant. But alongside that love, there is something I have always struggled to understand in myself. It is the emotional dependence I naturally long for, but don’t know how to express or receive in the way I see others experience it. I see people who can go to their parents without hesitation. They go to their mothers for comfort, to cry, to speak freely, to feel emotionally held. And they go to their fathers for reassurance, for that quiet sense of protection that says, “You are safe, I’ve got you.” There is balance in that kind of emotional support, and sometimes I find myself noticing what it feels like to miss both sides in different ways. And I wonder why it doesn’t feel that complete for me. Growing up, I learned independen...

If you have read my previous blog, you would know that college was never really a place I enjoyed. For a long time, it felt like somewhere I had to go every day out of compulsion. But things changed in my final year. I found really good friends, and without even realizing it, I made memories that I truly cherish now. Yesterday was my farewell. We all came dressed up, took countless selfies, and walked into the venue together. It felt strange in a way, because for the past three years, we were the ones who worked tirelessly for every department event. But yesterday, it was our day. We were the special ones. Our juniors welcomed us so warmly, and even though it felt unusual, it was actually very nice. The program started on a happy note. We laughed, cheered for every dance performance, sang loudly to the songs, took group photos, and received blessings from our professors. Everything felt light and joyful. But things changed towards the end. From being the ones who were enjoy...

There was a time when I never thought about my body. I wore what I liked, stood wherever I wanted in photos, and never analyzed how I looked from different angles. Confidence wasn’t something I practiced. It was just there. But when PCOS entered my life, the first visible change was my weight. It didn’t feel dramatic to me at first, but it was dramatic enough for others to notice. And once people notice, they comment. “You’ve gained weight.” “You look so different now.” “You look very fat in this photo.” They say it casually, like they’re pointing out the weather. I usually laugh it off. It feels easier to smile than to explain. But hearing the same thing repeatedly slowly changes the way you see yourself. PCOS is more than irregular periods. It affects hormones, metabolism, energy levels, and emotional balance. Your body starts functioning differently. Effort doesn’t always give the same results. And while you’re trying to adjust to that reality, the outside world keeps re...

Nothing hurts more than hurting the one you love in anger. I grew up around short tempers, harsh words, and sharp reactions, and I was always the one on the receiving end. For most of my life, that pain followed me like a shadow. I wanted to run away from it. From the words they used. From the anger. From the way love was mixed with fear. But I never realised something important. I am one of them. I am part of them. Slowly, without noticing, I became what I feared the most. The same tone. The same temper. The same way of treating the people I love. I hurt someone I care about without meaning to, without even realising it at first, and that was the moment I couldn’t look away from myself. The way I speak. The way I laugh. The way I react. It all comes from them. The monster I wanted to run from isn’t chasing me anymore. It was growing inside me. I am becoming the very thing I once feared.