Princess Diaries ੈ♡₊˚•.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ Currently... ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Mood: Hopeful

Weather: Cloudy

Current Song on Repeat: Choose Your Fighter by Emeline

Reading: Wanted by Sara Shepard

Watching: The OC Season 1

Playing: A Date With Death

Drinking: Kung Fu Tea x Strawberry Shortcake: Strawberry Dreams Milk Tea

Perfume: Perfect in Pink by Bath and Body Works

One Thing I'm Grateful For: Public Libraries

Hello 2025, and happy belated New Year! We're a little over a month in, and things have been relatively peaceful in my immediate life so far. This isn't something that should make me feel uneasy, but I can't help it. For as long as I can remember, I've always put myself in situations and circumstances that made me feel tense and panicked about life in general— partially on purpose, partially not on purpose.

I didn't realize it at the time, but I was dealing with chronic fatigue for almost 10+ years of my life as a symptom of something bigger physically wrong with me. Because these issues started primarily when I was a teenager, I spent my formative years seeing myself as a lazy person. I didn't have the brain capacity to do much, nevermind be passionate about anything. I used to compensate for it by overloading my days with classes and extracirruculars in hopes of proving myself wrong, to put on the airs of being hardworking and successful, in hopes of finding the one thing that would hold my interest deeply enough that it'd get me out of bed. But in the end, the problem was not my willpower, it was something larger than that. I feel like part of the reason why I was able to emerge out of schedules insane for my physical health at the time decently successful was because of the amount of flexibility Covid-19 protocols forced upon institutions back in the day. I was an undergraduate student from Autumn 2019 to December 2022, so I really only had one "normal" schedule under my belt, which coincidentally also happened to be the only semester in which I failed a class in. At the time, I brushed it off as having difficulty adjusted to the rigor of college classes, which I'm sure also played a role! But honestly, looking back, the real issue was my inability to get out of bed or even sit at a desk for more than an hour to get any work done or even study. After that semester, things for the most part shifted online, so I was able to work on things more at my own pace. Things like classes and meetings were online, and I used to be able to lay down in between and take naps as necessary. My parents took care of household chores and planning meals, but doing basic hygiene like brushing my teeth or taking showers were some of the hardest things for me to do at the time. I grew up with mental health issues so it was incredibly easy for me to chalk these things up to just being unwell due to living through a global pandemic. It wasn't until I saw my mental health symptoms go into remission, my passive suicidality disappear, and the world generally go back to "normal" that I realized something seriously was wrong if I still felt the need to sleep 12 hours a day.

2024 was a really transformative year in the sense that I feel like I've finally managed to regain control in my life. I finally feel like I control my days rather than my days controlling me due to the urge to lay in bed all day. Admitting that I needed medical intervention was really fucking hard. I don't know why but it felt like admitting defeat, like admitting that I was born defective. The first time that I reached out for help was for my mental illness, and it was not taken well by my parents. From that experience I kind of learned to associate reaching out for help as a shameful thing. I really hate this particular part of my temperament. Growing up, I wasn't really modeled a stable personality or lifestyle. Instead, I feel like I was repeatedly told that I was special and free to do or ask for help with anything, but there was always an imbalance between my parents' words and their actions. There was always a desire and expectation for extraverted excellence from me as their first and oldest child, and I've always been hyperaware of this. for example, in elementary school, I was always told that I had a lovely voice and the fact that I sang was great! But being in my school's choir wasn't enough for them. I was forced to perform solo in front of an audience for the school's talent show for many years after. Me acheiving external praise and success became the antidote to the familial shame my parents probably felt from leaving my extended family back in India behind. I never felt that the average normal child inside of me was worthy of love and affirmation.

I've always felt pressure to be "successful". The issue I faced is that the definition of success was constantly changing. Being a third culture kid growing up was difficult. My parents defined success for me a certain way based on their cultural upbringing. My childhood in Canada defined success a certain way. My upringing in the United States defined success a completely different way. There were so many different ways to be considered successful, and that's all I ever wanted to be because I didn't know what I wanted for myself. I just wanted to somehow be considered unique and successful— but culture, community, and life in general makes it impossible to retain that level of "prestige". I pride myself on being an ambitious person, and I generally have the social ability to blend into any system and look like I belong there. It's always been both a gift and a curse. You can only blend into so many different environments before you start to lose track of who you really are and what you want at your core. I craved societal affirmation so badly, because deep down, I struggled with a sense of shame and disconnection from my true wants for my own life. I was driven by a deep desire to be seen as unique or special, while at the same time plagued by envy of how easy it looked for everyone one else to simply live. I believed that everyone else inherently had something I didn't have, and it fed my natural competitiveness. I shifted my attention to a special area of life to succeed at rather than going after what everyone else already had to hopefully be both unique and successful. I locked into tasks to win awards and accolades that made me feel accomplished in order to avoid having to feel any of my true feelings. My core sin is that I (used to) lie a lot, and I mostly lied to myself. I lied to myself and others about the state of my health and what I was mentally and physically capable of. My deceit was never malicious, I just couldn't bear the thought of losing other people's admiration or approval, because somewhere along the way I internalized those things as the things I should value the most. I often swang from total ego inflation to crippling self doubt all in the span of one afternoon due to the grandiose expectations that I had for myself that nobody could ever possibly actually acheive.

On the other hand, my younger brother will finish his first year of undergrad this May. I am jealous of how much more of a well adjusted of a person he appears to be at 18 than I was. We both grew up in the same household, under similar circumstances, but it feels like he's just a healthier and happier person than I am overall. I am 23 years old and still don't have my driver's license, meanwhile he got his at 17 and regularly drives himself to and from university, the very same university that I attended. At least on the outside, he doesn't appear to be upset that due to finances he is forced to live with our parents and commute the way I did. On the other hand, I cried and threw tantrums many, many times. It makes me feel pathetic that I behaved that way. I was upset that I was going to have to continue being reliant on my parents for everything, and I wouldn't be able to start blossoming into an adult the way I thought everyone else my age was. I thought that being as extrodinary as possible would make my immigrant parents' sacrifices worth it, but ironically the same reason why I was incredibly limited by what I could do was because of our statuses as immigrants. Furthermore, I was upset because I was a lesbian that had to continue living with their homophobic parents and their rules. I wanted to have the space to learn about myself and grow outside of my parents' influence, but I wasn't able to have that. Remembering that there is a past version of myself out there that wasn't able to fully understand the gifts I had in front of me despite their flaws kills me sometimes. There are thousands of people out there that would do anything to have my life and it's privileges. I know that now.

I try really hard to be empathetic with my past self, but it's really hard for me to because I see my past self as a selfish person who did not understand the value of things in life while they had them sometimes. I am afraid of the fact that I am changing for the better now, because it means that I was always capable of change. I feel like if I had taken the right steps to work towards becoming healthier sooner, I could've avoided a lot of pain and heartache in different areas of my life. It is a mix of guilt, grief, and bittersweet realization that feels heavy to hold at times. I keep forgetting to take into account that I was literally sick. I wouldn't have been able to describe myself as sick at the time because I didn't know life could feel any different, but now that I'm on the other side of it, I can say with certainity I wasn't healthy. But I don't need to stay loyal to my suffering like it's a badge of honor. Getting on medication that finally made my body and brain work the way that it's supposed to has truly been lifechanging. Sometimes I still feel the ache of hindight— I'm finally able to see how much power and motivation I've always had, but I'm also mourning the time I was not able to fully use it. I know that earlier me wasn't necessarily weak, lazy, or incapable; they were surviving, learning, and maybe even just coping with life in ways they understood at the time. Growth isn't a "should-have-been" kind of situation. It is messy, unpredictable, and honestly only happens when we are ready for it. But I am angry. I am jealous of other people that managed to get good grades and move on career wise while dealing with issues like or worse than mine. I am angry that I crashed and burned after graduating, and wasn't able to apply to medical school immediately after like I wanted to. I am angry that change requires capability and the right conditions, not just the desire for it. I am angry that a past version of myself couldn't have just taken the right steps sooner so that I could still be extraordinary for my age, instead of just being ordinary, or even below ordinary.

It stings to think of the "what-ifs" too much, but the me that lived through those experiences gave me the wisdom and grit to be greatful for everything that I have now. I'm trying my best to reframe my past struggles as the reason why I'm here now, moving forward, rather than just proof of things I could've easily avoided. My past self was not someone who failed to change for the better, they were someone who endured until I could get to the point I was ready for change. Instead of being late or behind, I am exactly where I'm meant to be, even if I am technically "behind" based on other people's timelines. I now have a deep sense of appreciation and acceptance for who I am and what I have that I wouldn't have otherwise. I feel so much more self-confident, fuller instead of emptier, and lighter instead of heavier. Even if I was sick, I was never truly a "missing" a piece of being human, therefore there is nothing I need to look for in other people to complete myself. I am currently 23 years old and I feel like this is the first time I’ve actually have been living, my teenage years or my early 20s weren’t the start of my life, this is.

My resolutions for 2025 really just boil down to hopefully continuing the positive momentum that I have going on in my life right now. I want to become a more disciplined person that doesn't allow their emotions to get in the way of getting stuff done, and I've been working on this by making my bed every morning. At face value, it doesn't mean much, but I'm hoping that it'll lead me into making bigger and bolder decisions for my life. Making my bed is an easy enough task to get done regardless of my mood, and it usually sets me up to conquer the other things that I know I need to get done that day. I also want to learn to acknowledge my feelings but not identify with them. I know that this resolution will be more of a lifelong journey rather than something that can just be "completed" in a year, so more tangible sub-resolutions I have are to journal more and incorporate radical acceptance into my life. I think that having a space and time to feel my feelings and then move on rather than letting how I feel drown me will allow me to self regulate better and form more genuine connections with other people. Finally, I want to read more and become disgustingly overeducated. There was a time in my life when I took my access to an education for granted and even saw it as a chore, and I never want to undervalue it again. I always feel better when I'm able to engage with reality through meaningful actions, and in order to do that, I have to be educated enough to do it.

Life is no longer a burden, something to be endured. I am happy to get to live it.