This too shall pass

 

Sometimes, people feel sorry for themselves.

It arrives quietly.

A heaviness that lingers under the surface.

The sense that you have been steady for too long without pause.

Life keeps moving, responsibilities stay constant, and somewhere along the way emotional energy begins to thin. In that space, a softer emotional response begins to form. Not dramatic, not attention seeking, just a private awareness of strain that has gone on longer than expected.

Self pity often follows endurance.

Adapting for longer than you realised you were capable of.

Showing up even when it felt uneven.

Holding composure when things asked more than they gave back.

The feeling is less about wanting sympathy and more about noticing how much has been carried without acknowledgment.

It shows up as fatigue that rest does not fully resolve.

A subtle awareness of being overlooked.

A private thought that surfaces unexpectedly. Why does this feel harder for me?

Left unattended, self pity narrows perception.

Attention settles on what feels unfair or unresolved. The mind keeps a quiet account of effort and outcome.

Movement slows.

Clarity softens.

Agency feels distant, not because strength is absent, but because awareness has folded inward for too long.

Acknowledgment creates space.

Naming the feeling gently allows distance.

Distance restores perspective.

From there, the question shifts toward adjustment. What needs to change so that forward movement feels possible again.

Life does not distribute difficulty evenly, yet seasons move.

Heavy phases stretch time, but they do not define an entire life.

What feels heavy now does not hold the same weight forever.

இதுவும் கடந்து போகும். This too shall pass.

There is a song by the talented singer Sid Sriram that carries this feeling gently. The voice, the pauses, the ache beneath the melody. It feels less like music and more like someone sitting beside you in understanding. Sid sings with a rare kind of emotional precision. Every word feels lived in. Every note carries intention. He does not rush the feeling or overpower it. He stays with it, allowing the listener to recognise their own quiet spaces inside the song. That empathy in his voice turns music into a moment of healing, where emotion is not performed but deeply felt. You can listen to the song here: https://open.spotify.com/track/6voQcZ46RMVPfg6O7sBn5U

Sometimes music becomes the quiet bridge between endurance and release, holding emotion without trying to solve it.

Evil Influencer: The Jodi Hildebrandt Story

Watching Evil Influencer: The Jodi Hildebrandt Story, what stayed with me was not only the extremity of harm, but the quiet way it begins, often disguised as help.

A person seeking clarity. Relief. A way to live better with themselves and others.

Somewhere along the way, guidance shifts its shape.

What should have been support becomes substitution. Reflection becomes instruction. And slowly, the person’s own voice starts to fade.

A life coach or therapist is not meant to become your voice.

Their role is to help you see more clearly, not to decide more rigidly. Real empowerment does not come from absorbing someone else’s certainty. It comes from strengthening your capacity to notice, question, and choose for yourself.

Trying to better yourself does not mean ignoring your intuition. It means sharpening it and tuning into it.

You know your life better than anyone else ever will.

This is where idealistic influencers enter the picture. People who seem to have it all together. The language is polished. The certainty is persuasive. The life they present looks ordered, healed, resolved. For someone feeling uncertain, that kind of confidence can feel reassuring. But idealisation is also where discernment quietly switches off. When influencers appear flawless, their ideas can begin to feel unquestionable. And that is precisely the moment when guidance needs more scrutiny, not less.

Ethical support keeps inner authority intact. It respects context. It leaves room for disagreement. It encourages review, pause, and independent thinking. It does not require you to stay indefinitely to prove growth, loyalty, or readiness.

Healthy guidance has a direction. And that direction is outward.

You should be moving back into your own life with more trust in your judgement, not circling endlessly around the person who helped you. If support does not eventually make itself lighter, if it resists closure or reflection, something essential has been lost.

When insight is enforced rather than integrated, growth becomes fragile.

A good practitioner helps you deal with your life. They do not replace your relationship with it.

The measure of successful coaching is quiet and unremarkable.

You leave steadier.

More self-directed.

Less reliant.

And very clearly, with your own voice reclaimed.

P.S. The article is inspired by Evil Influencer: The Jodi Hildebrandt Story on Netflix. The documentary includes graphic and distressing content. Viewer discretion advised.

When love stops preforming

We have become very good at showing love.

Less practiced at letting it remain quiet.

There was a time when love stayed mostly unobserved.

It lived in routines, in unremarkable consistency, in the way people adjusted to one another without needing an audience. Its strength was not measured. It was lived.

Today, relationships increasingly come with visibility.

Couples affirm their bond publicly. 

Families document closeness. 

Parents share milestones, victories, moments of pride. 

Much of this is sincere. 

Sharing joy is human. Pride in the people we love is natural. 

Expression itself is not the problem.

The shift happens quietly in what gets amplified.

What travels outward most easily are the polished moments. 

The wins. 

The proof points. 

Meanwhile the ordinary textures of growth begin to fade from view. Effort that has no headline. Days that simply hold together. The slow, uneven work of becoming.

When only the polished moments travel outward, the rest retreat inward. The awkward tries, the half-formed growth, the unremarkable days stop feeling worth displaying. 

Not because anyone forbade them, but because silence teaches as much as praise.

What remains visible starts shaping what feels valuable.

This can place an unintended weight on children and relationships alike. Not through spoken pressure, but through patterns quietly absorbed. A subtle learning forms about what earns attention and what seems to matter most.

None of this makes pride wrong. Sharing meaningful moments is part of being alive together. Joy naturally wants to be expressed.

The distortion begins when sharing starts leaning into comparison.

When the inner sentence quietly becomes, I’m doing this well. Why aren’t others able to?

Not said aloud. Sometimes not even consciously acknowledged. But present enough to shape posture, tone, and identity.

At that point, empowerment shifts into positioning. 

Love begins to double as proof. 

Connection starts carrying the weight of image.

Healthy relationships do not require continuous confirmation. They grow through steadiness, repair, humour, irritation survived, ordinary days endured well. They remain intact without needing approval stamped on them.

The strongest bonds are often the least performative. They do not announce their depth. They simply inhabit it.

Sharing, when it comes from genuine appreciation rather than quiet comparison, remains beautiful. 

Pride, when it does not become pressure, remains nourishing.

But love matures best when it is not auditioning.

When it is allowed to be private, imperfect, unremarkable, and real.

Who you are when the noise fades should resemble the image you offer the world. If not, it’s worth listening to what that gap is asking for.

In the end, a life is not only about what we build outwardly, but the inner alignment we quietly return to.

Here’s to choosing coherence over performance.

#SocialMedia #Relationships #InnerLife #Authenticity