Lately, I’ve been doing my best to follow my hopes instead of my fears. But if I’m being completely honest, fear has been louder. Not the kind that screams, but the kind that creeps in during quiet moments—when the world settles and you’re left alone with your thoughts. It’s the kind of fear that whispers uncertainty about the future, that tightens your chest and causes your mind to spiral into a maze of what-ifs. And yet, in those moments, something inside me still fights to remember who I am. I know I’m brave—even when I don’t feel it. I know I’ve survived things that once felt unbearable. And most of all, I know I’m not walking this road alone.

“Take life one day at a time.”

I’m incredibly blessed to have a small but solid circle of people who help ground me when I feel lost. One of them is my cousin Angelic, who has offered me words I now carry like a prayer: “Take life one day at a time.” It’s simple advice, yet profoundly hard to live by when your mind wants to rush ahead. But this week, I’ve tried. I’ve tried not to worry about the rest of the week or next month or next year. I’ve tried to stay where my feet are. And in doing so, I’ve realized that every day—every ordinary, overlooked day—is a chance to learn. Not just about the world, but about myself.

This past week has been a quiet teacher. It didn’t arrive with major revelations or life-altering moments. But it gave me gentle reminders—some old truths I had to relearn, others I’m only beginning to understand. Here’s what life whispered to me as I slowly made my way back to peace.

First: what you resist, persists. The more I fight against something—be it a feeling, a situation, or a fear—the more power I unintentionally hand it. Resistance, while it may feel like strength, often traps us. But when I stop resisting, when I simply let things be, I begin to breathe again. There’s healing in surrender.

Second: if I don’t believe in myself, no one else will. I’ve come to realize that the way I see myself sets the tone for how others see me too. If I only see dust, how can I expect others to see gold? But when I start speaking kindly to myself, treating myself as worthy, something changes. That inner belief becomes magnetic.

If I only see dust, how can I expect others to see gold?

Third: attitude is everything. If I wake up thinking life is always unfair, then I’ll walk through my day collecting evidence to prove it right. But if I believe that something good is always possible—that kindness is still real, that grace can still find me—then I begin to see that everywhere too. Our thoughts shape our world more than we realize.

Fourth: the world reflects what we carry inside. I used to think change had to start with fixing everything out there. But I’ve learned it begins inside. If I want more compassion in the world, I have to become more compassionate myself. What we radiate—whether it’s bitterness or love—spills into every interaction.

Fifth: gratitude truly multiplies what matters. There have been days when I’ve struggled to see the light. But then I notice the warmth of a coffee mug in my hands, the softness of my cat’s fur, the silent strength of a friend’s message—and suddenly, I remember. Life doesn’t have to be perfect to be full of blessings. Gratitude turns ordinary moments into anchors of joy.

Sixth: patience is a quiet kind of strength. In a world that glorifies instant results, I’ve had to learn that real growth takes time. Nothing beautiful blooms overnight. Healing takes time. Dreams unfold slowly. And I must be gentle with my timeline. Not everything I’m working on will show results right away—but that doesn’t mean it’s not working.

And finally, seventh: courage is not the absence of fear. It’s choosing to act even when you’re afraid. There will always be fears trying to convince me I’m not enough or that I’ll fail. But courage means doing it anyway—with trembling hands, with uncertainty, but with a heart that refuses to back down. I remind myself, again and again, that FEAR often stands for False Expectations Appearing Real. It passes. It always does.

FEAR often stands for False Expectations Appearing Real.

So here I am—still figuring things out, still navigating the rough waters of adulthood, still learning how to breathe through the storm instead of holding my breath for the sunshine. I don’t have all the answers, and maybe I never will. But what I’ve come to understand is that peace rarely arrives with fireworks. It comes in soft choices—like choosing to be present instead of panicked. Like replacing tension with trust. Like taking one gentle breath, one intentional step, one quiet lesson at a time.

If you’re going through a season like mine—one where fear is loud, where your future feels foggy—I just want you to know this: You’re not alone. And you’re doing better than you think.

With warmth,
Anj 🤍