You matter more than you think

We arrive here quietly.

We live. We feel. We change.

Life moves in a rhythm of beginnings, endings, and everything in between.

We feel deeply. We fall, we rise, we meet people who change us in small unseen ways. Circumstances arrive uninvited. Experiences shape us without warning. And through it all, we search. We search to understand, to feel alive, to discover meaning hidden within ordinary moments.

Life does not always move by choice. Sometimes it moves by force. There are seasons when we walk willingly and seasons when we are carried by storms we never asked for. 

Still, beneath every change, one presence remains constant. 

It is not the world. It is not the crowd. It is YOU.

Even when a hand reached out to support you, it was your heart that gathered courage. It was your mind that held steady. It was your spirit that chose to move forward when retreat felt easier. The journey may look shared from the outside, but the emotional courage within it belongs to you alone.

We often underestimate our own strength. We forget how many silent battles we have already survived. We overlook the quiet resilience that wakes up each morning and tries again. You are more powerful than you give yourself credit for. More brave than your doubts admit. More resilient than any passing fear.

There will be moments when the world seems faster, brighter, more certain for everyone else. It may feel as if others have solved a puzzle you are still trying to understand. In those moments, pause. Remember that life is never a race against another soul. It is a relationship with yourself. A conversation between who you were, who you are, and who you are becoming.

This life is an invitation. An invitation to respect yourself deeply. To walk beside your own thoughts with kindness. To explore the vast, delicate beauty of this universe with curiosity rather than comparison. And perhaps, along the way, to make existence a little gentler, a little warmer, a little more beautiful for those who cross your path.

You are not behind. You are not alone. You are simply living your story, one honest step at a time.

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.