A Path Called Me

Tag: love

  • Purpose

    There was a time not long ago when I became somewhat obsessed with finding my purpose in life. So, I began my search. First, I asked myself: What is my purpose as a human being? I thought about my job and the university I chose. I believed that if I kept learning, I could become more useful to others.

    Then I asked myself: What is my purpose as a woman? I reflected on my roles—as a mother, a wife, a friend, a daughter. But eventually, I felt that there had to be more to life than just the roles I play. I started thinking that maybe I should do something big, something that would help a large number of people.

    Then one day, I made a simple decision: I would live the best life I possibly could, every single day. And that became my purpose.

    Each morning, I wake up and live the day as if it were my last on this planet. I stay true to myself, aligned with my values. Every day, I try to be kinder than I was yesterday, more understanding, more loving.

    Purpose doesn’t have to be tied to big dreams—you can find it in the small, everyday moments. When I drink my coffee, I feel grateful that I can taste and smell its rich aroma. When I wash the dishes, I marvel at how water flows from the faucet. When I see the ocean, I’m filled with wonder at its depth and vastness. When I laugh with my daughter until we can’t breathe and our bellies ache, I feel alive.

    Sharing a smile with a stranger, giving someone a compliment—these moments may seem small, but they are full of meaning. That, to me, is the purpose of living: to be fully present in each moment, and to see those moments as miracles.

    If everyone could truly see and hear what is happening around them, I believe we could all say we are living a purposeful life.

  • A Love Letter

    Dear Love,

    Where are you?

    I used to wonder that so often.
    Are you in my mother’s warm embrace?
    In the neighbor’s kind “Good morning”?
    Are you hidden in the soft light of a new day, or in the joyful smile of my daughter?


    Does the green grass carry you?

    Or perhaps you’re in the face of a stranger I passed in the park? 

    I searched for you everywhere.
    So many of us do—looking for love in people, in places, in fleeting moments.

    For me, life has always been about you.
    Because life without love? It felt like it lacked meaning.

    I searched for you in people first.
    And I did find you—within my family, my friends, and in the most beautiful form of all: the love I feel for my daughter.

    Then, I found you in places.
    In the lake where I grew up.
    In the city where I studied.
    In the place I now call home.

    And then, I began to find you in nature.

    In the rhythm of ocean waves.

    In the majesty of the mountains.

    In poppy-filled meadows.

    In the pear tree in my grandparents’ yard.

    I discovered you in the little things, too:
    In the taste of my mom’s brownies.

    In a squirrel’s darting across the park.

    And in countless other tiny, beautiful moments.

    But even though I saw you everywhere, something still felt incomplete.
    There was always a small ache. A sense that something essential was missing.

    Until one day, I looked into the mirror—into my own eyes—and finally saw what I’d been overlooking all along.

    You were there.
    You had been waiting.

    I had never thought to look for love within myself.
    Never paused to offer love to myself.

    And that changed everything.
    Because the most valuable love, the most healing, the most lasting—was the one I gave to me.

    So now I know:
    You are not just out there, scattered in the world.
    You are also right here, inside me.
    Always have been.
    Always will be.

    With all my heart,
    Me

  • Pain

    Pain accompanies our life from day one. We are born and we cry—I would call that emotional pain, confusion pain. We don’t know what’s going on. It seems like everyone is afraid to feel pain. Physical or emotional.

    We avoid emotional pain and end up hurting ourselves physically so that our attention shifts. Because it’s easier to deal with physical pain than emotional pain. So we drink too much, we eat too much, we take drugs, we blame others for our misery. We punch things until there’s blood on our fists. We exercise until our body gives out. We work too much, we study too much.

    Honestly, I could go on and on with ways people hurt themselves. By doing this, we are trying to escape. We’re scared to face what really hurts. And there’s a lot to face, if I’m being honest. Not everyone will do that— not in their entire life.

    Why? Because we would have to confront the truth. The truth about what happened—the things we’d rather forget. The truth about what we did. Our mistakes. The people we hurt. The lies we told. The truths we’re ashamed to admit.

    That’s a lot of responsibility. And who wants that? Who consciously chooses pain in a world where pleasure and happiness are advertised everywhere you look?

    It’s easier to have fun. It’s easier to keep ourselves busy. It’s easier to talk about others. It’s easier to see everything else—just not the pain inside.

    Some people do this their whole life. Some find the courage to look inside. And yes, it hurts. It hurts so much I can’t even describe it. A drilling tooth or broken bone is nothing compared to this pain.

    But when you start healing small pieces of your soul—of your being—it slowly dissolves. It gets better.

    I’ve faced a lot of my pain. Crawling in it. Crying for hours. Begging, “When will this end?” And I still experience it from time to time, because we can’t heal all at once. Some wounds are deeper, and we have to be ready to feel them.

    The good part? God will never give us more than we can handle. So when something comes up and the pain rises again, deep down I know—it’s time.

    That doesn’t mean I’m not angry. I am. And I ask God: Why? Every time I go through it, I have a conversation with God. I say everything—how angry I am, how unfair life feels, how He can allow this, how I’m supposed to live with all these truths I now see. I speak without a filter.

    And then, I say thank you. Because I know this pain gives me freedom. It gives me a beautiful understanding of my being, of my life. And then—I see more. I feel more.

    Because when pain leaves, it makes space for love, joy, happiness—and most importantly—gratitude.
    Gratitude that I’m here. That I can experience life on this planet. That God made me so perfectly imperfect.

    We’re taught to search for the good, for happy moments. But life is not only about joy. It’s both.
    Good and bad.
    Happy and sad.
    Success and failure.

    And in both, we find depth. We find meaning. We find ourselves.

  • Honesty

    I want to start with one word: wow. Because I genuinely can’t believe what I heard earlier today. I was told that my honesty would get me into real trouble—that by being honest, I wouldn’t be respected by others. Wow.

    And you know what? I kind of agree. Unfortunately, most people don’t really want to hear the truth. They want to hear what makes them feel good—what they want to hear. I’ll admit it: I used to do that. I was a people-pleaser. I said things just to avoid hurting anyone, even when deep down I felt something completely different.

    I let others speak their minds about me, while I tiptoed around my own thoughts, being careful not to say too much. Not anymore. I’m done apologizing for being honest.

    If you don’t like what I say, that’s okay. I respect your reaction. I won’t argue—because I’m not you, and I don’t know what’s going on inside of you. What I share is just my opinion, and everyone is entitled to their own.

    I’ve come to realize two important things: first, everyone wants to be heard. And second, everyone wants to believe that what they’re doing is right. And that’s okay. We should all live our lives the way we choose—not the way others expect us to. We should have our own opinions.

    What I truly wish for in this world is more respect—respect for others, for differences, for uniqueness. There’s not a single person on this planet who is exactly like someone else. So, as many people as there are, there are that many perspectives. And that’s a beautiful thing. It’s what makes us all special and unique.

    Wouldn’t it be nice to have a conversation where I can share my opinion, and you can share yours—without anyone getting upset, without anyone feeling disrespected, without the need to prove who’s right?

    I started with myself. I began to respect myself—even when no one clapped for my choices. And with that, respect for others naturally followed. I wish everyone could feel that kind of freedom—the kind that comes when you stop caring about what others say about your opinions or your life choices. It’s incredibly liberating.

    I’m grateful that I have a few people in my life with whom I can truly be myself—people I can be honest with. As for those who felt disrespected by my honesty—they’re simply no longer in my life.

    I believe it takes courage to be honest and open. It’s scary at first. But once you experience the incredible feeling of being truthful with yourself, you’ll never want to go back to pleasing people with lies.

  • Trust

    Who—and what—do we trust?

    I used to believe people wouldn’t hurt me. I believed their words. I trusted their actions. I thought if I was kind, honest, and open-hearted, the world would meet me with the same. But life doesn’t always work like that.

    We’re born open. Curious. Trusting. Then life happens. People hurt us—sometimes by accident, sometimes through carelessness—and that trust begins to crack.

    As kids, we trust blindly. We follow the lead of adults and older friends, assuming they know better. But at some point, we get hurt. We feel let down, betrayed. And we begin to question not just others, but ourselves.

    That happened to me. I started questioning my worth. Wondering what I’d done wrong. And eventually, I found myself questioning everything. Was this what life was supposed to be? A constant fight to feel safe, seen, and whole?

    I knew I didn’t want to live like that anymore.

    When you finally start asking deeper questions, the answers come. Not always gently. Sometimes through pain. But they come. And for me, the truth was this: I am responsible for my life.

    That truth changed everything. It gave me a new beginning—a second chance.

    I began learning how to trust myself.

    Yes, I’ve made mistakes. I’ve let myself down. Chosen comfort over truth. Chosen people over peace. But I kept watching. I kept asking:

    Was that decision rooted in self-respect—or fear?
    Was I being true to myself—or just trying to be accepted?
    Was it love—or my ego?

    Over time, choice by choice, I started building a life that felt real. Not perfect. Not always easy. But real.

    It was hard at first.
    Hard to say no.
    Hard to speak up.
    Hard to set boundaries.
    Hard to choose myself.

    But I did. And it got easier.

    Now, I listen to myself. I speak honestly. I protect my energy. And yes—some people didn’t like that. Some drifted away.

    And that’s okay.

    Because the more I honored myself, the more I rebuilt trust—not in others, not in the world, but in me.

    That’s how trust was reborn.

    I lost faith in people. At times, I even lost faith in God. But I’ve come to understand: everything begins within.

    If I want to trust the world, I have to trust myself first.
    If I want to believe in goodness, I have to live it.
    And if I want to feel safe, I have to choose what’s right for me—even when it’s hard.

    That’s where trust starts.
    That’s how love grows.
    That’s how I came home to myself.

  • Change

    I used to believe that change wasn’t good.
    If I lived in one place for a long time, I thought I should just stay there. That staying meant stability, and stability meant safety. But deep down, something kept nudging me — telling me to go, to explore, to experience more. So eventually, I listened. I moved, I wandered, and I began to change.

    I also used to believe that I had to stay the same person — because “that’s just how I am.” For a long time, I resisted any kind of change in myself. But today, I know that staying the same isn’t the answer. I know now that I’m meant to grow, to evolve, and to keep exploring — both the world and myself.

    The funny thing is, I was never really afraid to change places. In fact, I always found it exciting to move, to see new things, to dive into the unknown. I still love that. But now, I’ve also come to love the feeling of returning home — having my own space where I belong, where everything around me reflects who I am. That, too, is change. And I’ve grown into it.

    I’ve realized something important: the more of life I experience, the more I understand the need for change. If the choices I made in the past brought me to places I don’t want to be anymore, then it’s time to make new choices. If you want different results, you have to make different choices. It doesn’t matter whether I want to change how I look, my relationships, my finances, or my career — if I stay the same, everything else around me will stay the same too.

    So I’m changing.


    I’m shifting my mindset, my habits, the small decisions I make every day. And no — it’s not easy. Only God knows how hard I battle with myself sometimes. Some days I show up strong. Other days, I stumble. But I don’t give up. 

    In the past, I was so hard on myself. When I failed, or even just chose not to do something, I would say such harsh things in my head — or even out loud to those closest to me. That only made everything feel heavier. But now, that’s changing too. If I mess up, I let myself feel the emotions — disappointment, sadness, guilt, or shame — whatever’s real in that moment. And then, I try again.

    This shift has given me a sense of freedom. A quiet permission to just be a human.

    I’m changing. And I love that about life. Every single day is a chance to grow, to do better, and to live more fully.

  • Choice

    We all have the right to choose.

    I’ve learned that my choices sometimes lead me to places I love, and other times to places I’d never return to. But the hardest choice I’ve ever made — the one that changed everything — was choosing myself.

    Choosing what’s right for me.
    Not what feels good in the moment.
    Not what makes others comfortable.
    But what aligns with my truth.

    Since I began choosing myself, I’ve felt something unexpected: a deep, aching sadness. A quiet sense of not quite belonging.

    The teachings about the Universe often say this is part of the path — that awakening can feel lonely, even heavy.
    And yet, they also say that God is love. Joy. Peace. Abundance.

    Where does that leave me?

    I’m living in truth.
    But that truth — as honest and sacred as it is — isn’t something everyone can understand.
    Or accept.

    So what should I choose?

    Should I betray myself over and over again just to feel a fleeting sense of belonging — in a family, a relationship, a friendship?

    Sure, I might have people around me. I might even feel happy… for a while.
    But that moment always fades.
    And when it does, the emptiness echoes louder than before.

    Or —
    Should I choose what I know is right for me?

    Not for anyone else’s comfort or approval.


    Just… for me.

    Some will say I’m lost. That I’m running away. That I don’t know how to live — all because I’ve made choices they wouldn’t make.
    But the truth is simple now.

    Because I’ve spent days alone.
    Crying.
    Questioning.
    Asking God:
    What should I do?

    It was a long, painful process.
    But I made it through.

    And here I am — standing in my truth.
    It may not make sense to others.
    But it finally makes sense to me.

    Yes, I still feel sadness sometimes.
    I still get lonely, even when people say I shouldn’t.
    But those moments pass.

    And what remains is something deeper —
    Joy.
    Gratitude.
    Passion.
    A sense of being alive.

    The choice is easy now — even though it took everything to get here. 

    I won’t abandon myself again.
    Not for anyone.
    Not for anything.

    The choice between longing for connection and honoring my truth felt like a lonely revolution.

    But it was mine to make.

    And I made it.

    This is my truth.
    As of today.