I met Shobana in seventh grade, and something about her drew me instantly. Despite life’s challenges, she had this remarkable way of making everyone around her smile. Her energy was infectious – she could light up any room she entered.
She has this incredible gift for humor – it’s not just what she says, but how she says it. Her perfect timing, those deliberate pauses, the way she uses her expressions and gestures – she can make anyone burst into laughter. Even the simplest story becomes hilarious when she tells it.
She created her own style, wearing her father’s loose shirts with confidence, starting trends instead of following them. She was always surrounded by friends, both boys and girls, drawn to her natural warmth and authenticity.
Back then, my world felt heavy. Growing up in a home where anxiety and stress seemed to linger in the air, I struggled with low confidence and craved love and attention. While I found it hard to make friends, with Shobana, friendship came easily. We spent hours in mindless chatter and laughter. Those were simpler times – I would just hop on my bicycle and ride to her apartment whenever I wanted to see her.
Being an only child, she turned her whole apartment complex into a family. She had this gift of making instant connections with strangers, calling them brother or sister, making them feel like family or old friends. People who had never met her before would find themselves comfortable in her presence within minutes.
I admired everything about her. Sometimes I felt silently possessive of our friendship, but I never showed it – perhaps because I understood that trying to contain her joy would only diminish it. Looking back, that might have been my first lesson in unconditional love.
We remain best friends to this day, and I still feel the same wonder and gratitude about our friendship. Through her, I learned some of life’s most valuable lessons – how to keep things light, how to greet strangers with warmth, and most importantly, how to choose happiness despite life’s challenges. She was a blessing in my young life, and continues to be one, silently guiding me toward joy just by being who she is.
Our friendship taught me that true beauty lies in how we make others feel, and what a blessing it is to have someone in your life who can still make you laugh like you’re in seventh grade.
Simply by being herself, she showed me something precious – that keeping things light and finding reasons to laugh felt so much better than carrying the weight of worry and sadness. She taught me that having a sense of humor isn’t just about making jokes – it’s a way of moving through life, of finding lightness in ordinary moments, of transforming everyday situations into occasions for joy. This gift of seeing life through a lens of humor continues to remind me that there’s always room for laughter, always a way to lighten the heart, always a moment worth celebrating with a smile.
Author: lotusgeekgal
Finding Myself in Silence
For years, I struggled with depression and a deep sense of loneliness. I attributed my discomfort in large groups to my traumatic childhood, believing this was the sole reason I felt so disconnected when others seemed energized by company. Others would comment on my reserved nature, making me question if something was wrong with me.
I had always been someone who could spend hours simply gazing at nature. While others found it odd, I found complete peace in these quiet moments with trees, birds, and the sky. I confused this natural inclination for solitude with depression, thinking perhaps I just wasn’t interested enough in being sociable. Yet paradoxically, I felt deeply lonely – a contradiction that tore at me. How could I both cherish solitude and yearn for connection?
Living with depression was like carrying a heavy burden – the pain, the confusion about who I was, the thoughts that wouldn’t leave me alone. To escape all of this, I often filled my moments with noise – television shows playing continuously, many podcasts one after another. Anything to avoid sitting with the silence and my own thoughts.
Then came a time when something shifted through my meditation practices and the guidance of my Spiritual Teacher. I chose to step away from these distractions and simply be with myself and our Creator, moving through household tasks in quiet presence.
In this gentle time alone, I discovered something beautiful.
There’s a depth in silence with our Creator that nothing else can match. As the usual busyness fell away, a new clarity emerged. The mental fog that often clouds our days lifted, and my heart found its way more naturally to prayer and presence.
Sadness visited too, in a way I hadn’t experienced before. But this time, I stayed with it differently – sharing openly with our Creator. My prayers became deeper, more heartfelt, asking for help with forgiveness, both to forgive and be forgiven.
Through these prayers and silence, I began to understand something profound – the recognition that living like a hermit, even while surrounded by family, can be a blessing when lived in devotion. In this quiet space, I found myself speaking less and listening more. The usual pull toward reactions softened, making it easier to turn toward divine love instead.
In these moments, I felt myself again – perhaps for the first time in lifetimes. It was different from anything I’ve known in this life. This feeling goes beyond belonging to a group or finding people who understand you.
I’ve finally accepted something about myself: I am someone who finds deeper connection in quieter ways. This love for solitude isn’t something to fix or change – it’s simply who I am. What matters isn’t the number of connections, but the ability to be fully myself, even if it’s with just one kindred spirit.
The Yoga Mat
This happened years ago during a difficult time in my life. That morning, work situations and family tensions had left me feeling particularly low. When I walked into the yoga studio, my mind was clouded with doubt about many things, even wondering if there was any point in trying to be good anymore.
I settled into my usual spot, trying to quiet my troubled thoughts. That’s when something unexpected happened.
The studio owner came over holding a yoga mat – the same one I had looked at the week before but hadn’t bought, knowing it was more than I could spend. She simply handed it to me with a smile, saying she wanted me to have it.
I stood there, surprised by her gesture. There was no special occasion, no reason for her to do this. She had simply noticed something that would make me happy and decided to give it.
Something shifted in that moment. Her simple kindness reminded me of the good that quietly exists in everyday life. It wasn’t dramatic or showy – just one person choosing to be kind because they could.
I walked home that day feeling different. The same problems were still there, but they felt lighter somehow. That small gift had helped me remember that even in difficult times, unexpected kindness can appear, helping us find our way forward again.
Finding and Following Your Heart’s Message
There are moments in life when wisdom finds us exactly when we need it most. Recently, a friend’s words on Facebook deeply resonated with me:
Everyone has a unique message that is much bigger than themselves… It is only when you put your message ahead of you that you can truly create an impact. At that point, the message itself carries you farther than you’d ever hope to go by yourself.
Reading those words, something moved within me. I’ve always felt this gentle pull in my heart to do something meaningful, to give back somehow. Even with the joy of raising my two beautiful boys and sharing life with my husband, I felt this whisper of something more.
Looking back now, I smile at how everything unfolded. Before I even knew about Reiki Tummo or attended my first Open Heart workshop, before I met my spiritual teacher – that calling was already there, soft but persistent. Like a friend gently tapping on my shoulder, waiting to be noticed.
A personal growth workshop led me to a teacher who would become a dear friend. She helped me articulate what my heart had long known, guiding me to craft my first Mission Statement and introducing me to the transformative power of service through volunteering.
Following my Heart’s calling led me to Reiki Tummo and eventually to my spiritual teacher, Mr.Irmansyah Effendi.
Looking back, I see how each step was divinely orchestrated. The Creator’s love manifests in remarkable ways – when we hear His plans in our hearts and embrace them wholeheartedly, He illuminates the path before us.
These days, when I’m out there following what my heart calls me to do, something beautiful happens. I feel so close to Him, like a child wrapped in their parent’s love. All those worries that usually buzz around in my head just… fade away. Joy bubbles up from somewhere deep inside. I feel loved, completely and totally, and that love just spills over into everything I do.
This journey has taught me that our truest purpose often lies in surrendering to something greater than ourselves. When we align with our heart’s message and let it guide us, we become channels for a love that transforms not only our lives but touches countless others.
In the end, perhaps that is the greatest gift of following our heart’s message – the discovery that in giving ourselves to something larger, our small self naturally dissolves into a boundless peace that knows no limits.
A Lesson About Truth
Sometimes wisdom finds us in the most ordinary moments. There I was, just scrolling through Facebook one afternoon, when I saw it – a picture of Gandhi with his words about truth. It stopped me in my tracks and made me think about all the times I’ve struggled with speaking my truth.
You know how it goes – those moments when you need to say something important to someone you care about, something that might hurt a little but needs to be said. For years, my pattern was so predictable. I’d share my truth, see the hurt in their eyes, and immediately say “Sorry.” It felt like the right thing to do at the time, this little word that was supposed to soften the blow.
But oh, how that backfired. Instead of focusing on what really mattered, the conversation would shift: “There you go again, saying hurtful things and then just saying sorry.” My attempt to be kind was actually undermining the important things I needed to say.
It’s funny how a simple quote can suddenly make everything so clear, showing you a better way forward. I guess that’s how wisdom works – it waits patiently until we’re ready to receive it, until we’re in exactly the right place to understand.
I’m holding this lesson close to my heart now, accepting it with gratitude. Do I know if I’ll get it right every time? Probably not. This is more of a journey than a destination, I think. But I’m making a promise to myself – to practice this new way of being, to learn how to speak truth with both courage and love.
And when it feels too hard (because sometimes it will), I’m learning to surrender it to God, asking for help to find that sweet spot where truth meets kindness. To be strong enough to stand in my truth, gentle enough to deliver it with love, and wise enough to know the difference.
It’s a practice, this dance of speaking truth. Sometimes we’ll step on toes, sometimes we’ll float gracefully through. But maybe that’s okay – maybe that’s exactly how we learn to be both honest and kind.
Learning to Let Go
I’ve been thinking about an old story from the Mahabharata lately, one that keeps coming back to me. It’s about Karna and Duryodhana, two friends bound by loyalty. Karna, given away as a baby, grew up facing endless whispers about his birth. In Duryodhana, he found more than just protection – he found validation, someone who made him feel seen and worthy when others looked away. This validation created such deep gratitude in Karna that he stayed, even as Duryodhana walked a darker path.
Sitting with this story, I began to see something in myself. We all have our own version of Duryodhana, but it’s not another person – it’s a voice inside us. I’ve come to know this voice well. It validates every hurt, justifies every reaction, makes every emotion feel right and true. Just like Duryodhana did for Karna, this voice makes us feel understood, making it harder to see how it slowly leads us into darkness.
At first, it feels like comfort. Like having a friend who always takes your side, who has an explanation for every emotion, a reason for every reaction. But lately, I’ve noticed something about this inner voice – it never lets me move forward. Instead, it keeps me centered in my own story, making everything about me, my hurts, my reactions. When I listen to it, I sink deeper into darkness, into fear and anger that feel impossible to escape.
The strange thing is, even when I realized this wasn’t helping me grow, I found myself so deeply entangled with this voice that I couldn’t tell where it ended and I began. It had become such a part of my identity that the thought of letting it go felt like losing a piece of myself. I was stuck, not because the voice was helping me, but because I had forgotten how to exist without its constant validation.
But here’s what I’m learning – letting go doesn’t have to be a battle. Just like a plant withers without water, this part of ourselves grows quiet when we stop feeding it our energy. We don’t need to fight it. We just need to gently turn away, to say, “I understand you were trying to protect me, but I don’t need this protection anymore.”
Sometimes I still hear that voice. But now I know I have a choice. I can either get tangled in its story of hurt, or I can simply return to this moment, where life is actually happening. It’s like stepping out of a dark room into sunlight – suddenly everything is clearer, more alive.
In these moments of clarity, I feel closer to something bigger than myself. Not lost in yesterday’s pain or tomorrow’s fears, but here – where peace lives, where love flows, where I can finally be who I’m meant to be.
I’m discovering that true freedom isn’t just about breaking free from that voice – it’s about releasing ourselves from all these stories we’ve wrapped so tightly around ourselves. When we stop making everything about us, stop needing that constant validation, something shifts. We find ourselves able to move more freely, to see beyond our own small world of hurts and reactions.
And when that old familiar voice comes back? I remind myself: I don’t need to push it away. I don’t need to feel stuck in its grip. I just need to let it be, while choosing to stay here, in this moment, where life is actually happening.
The Unseen Terror – A Child’s Experience of Abuse and Neglect
The sound of screaming reverberated through the walls of the house as 5 year old Annie ran up to the terrace cowered in terror, trying to stay as quiet and still as possible. She had seen it so many times before; her father’s rages and her mother’s desperate pleas for mercy. She had learned to make herself invisible, to pretend that it wasn’t happening. She had developed a survival mechanism of pretending that all was fine; where she would play on her own alone in the terrace, speaking and singing loudly to herself in the hopes of not hearing the abuse and cries.
Annie would later stealthily walk her way back to her room and crawl up to her blanket to try to comfort herself to sleep, after what seemed like an eternity. The silence following the outburst was unnerving. The air felt thick and heavy, as if the room was filled with something that couldn’t be seen.
At times she found her father had left for work after the abuse and she had felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of relief.
All Annie needed was her parents to hold her, cuddle her, and let her know everything was fine and nothing was her fault. However, her parents were so deep in their own pain and anger, leaving Annie confused and scared.
As Annie grew older, Annie found it increasingly difficult to trust people and form meaningful relationships. She was very selective in friends. She was constantly on guard. Her parents had taught her that love was equated with pain, so she kept most people at a distance. Annie’s past trauma had a lasting effect on her into adulthood. She struggled to manage her emotions, often feeling overwhelmed and powerless. She often felt like a victim, unable to control the events that were happening around her. The feelings of insecurity and mistrust followed her throughout her life, leaving her feeling isolated and alone.
The trauma experienced by children who witness physical abuse and experience neglect can be severe and long-lasting. It can lead to a range of long-term physical, psychological, and social problems. These can include, but are not limited to, physical bruises and injuries, anxiety, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, and other forms of psychological trauma. Children who witness physical abuse may experience intense fear, guilt, and shame, as well as feelings of helplessness and powerlessness. They may feel that they are to blame for the abuse or that they should have been able to prevent it. They may also experience difficulties with trust, intimacy, and relationships. In extreme cases, they may even become abusers themselves.
Cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) is a common and effective treatment for adults with childhood trauma, particularly those who have witnessed abuse. CBT focuses on identifying and changing unhealthy thought patterns, behaviors, and reactions to stressful situations. It is often used in combination with other therapeutic interventions, such as psychodynamic and trauma-informed therapies. CBT can help individuals gain insight into their own behavior and learn skills to effectively cope with stress. In addition, CBT can help individuals to become more aware of their triggers and feelings, and how to manage them in a healthy way. CBT can also help individuals develop healthier relationships and communication skills.
Hi, I am Sujatha..
Welcome to my blog about my personal journey for better mental health and happiness!
Hello! I’m Sujatha Bharath, sharing life with my husband and our two wonderful teenage boys. Looking back at my journey over these past years, I’m filled with gratitude for how far I’ve come. From navigating childhood trauma and depression to discovering a deep sense of peace, my path has been one of continuous growth and healing.
Through Open Heart practices, meditation, and daily awareness, I’ve learned to embrace each moment as it comes. The beauty of living in the present has taught me that true joy isn’t about being the center of my own universe – it’s about letting go and allowing life to flow naturally.
My earlier healing journey through physical fitness, nutrition, and meditation laid the foundation for where I am today. Now, I find myself in a space of peace and contentment, where self-awareness has become less about fixing and more about being. The practices that once helped me heal now help me thrive and grow.
This blog has evolved along with me. While it began as a way to document my recovery and self-discovery, it’s now a space where I share the simple joy of present-moment living. I write about the everyday wisdom that comes from staying open-hearted and the freedom that comes with letting go.
I still believe in living authentically, but I’ve discovered that authenticity isn’t something we chase – it’s what remains when we stop holding on so tightly to who we think we should be. I hope that by sharing these insights, I can connect with others who are on their own journey of opening their hearts to life’s possibilities.
Thank you for being part of this continuing journey of growth, awareness, and joy.
lotusheartgrateful.com 