It’s been a while since I last posted. Life has been a bit overwhelming lately — things going on personally that have left me disturbed, emotionally drained, and, honestly, questioning a lot. I wasn’t ready to show up here pretending everything was okay. And that in itself made me realize how often we do exactly that — show up, smile, and keep going, even when inside we’re struggling.

From the outside, things can look picture-perfect. A happy family, a stable job, smiling photos, weekend getaways, maybe even a thriving Instagram feed. But mental health isn’t always visible. It’s not a wound you can put a bandage on or a fever you can measure. It’s quiet. It’s subtle. It’s easy to ignore — especially when you’re conditioned to do so.

As South Asians, and especially as South Asian women, we don’t often give mental well-being the space and importance it deserves. We grow up learning to put everyone else first — our family, our spouse, our kids, our community. We’re taught to be strong, to “adjust,” to not hurt others, to always do the right thing. And somewhere in all that, we forget to check in with ourselves.

We forget us.

Lately, I’ve been taking a closer look at my own emotional landscape. And in doing so, I’ve also started observing the women around me — friends, cousins, colleagues, aunties — and I see a pattern. We’re tired. We’re carrying a lot. And we’re not saying much about it. Because we’re supposed to be the nurturers, the stable ones, the fixers. We keep quiet because we don’t want to make things harder for anyone else.

But here’s what I’ve come to realize — if we don’t take care of ourselves, we can’t truly take care of anyone else. Not in the long run. You can’t pour from an empty cup, no matter how strong your intentions are.

I want to explore mental well-being more deeply — not just as a topic to talk about, but as something to actively practice. Not just for others, but for me. It’s hard, though. Even as I write this, I know I don’t always take my own advice. I still push myself too far, still stay quiet when I should speak up, still neglect the signals my body and mind are sending me.

But I’m trying. And maybe that’s a start.

So this post is both a check-in and a reminder — to me, and to anyone reading. Be kind to yourself. Take a moment. Take a breath. It’s okay to not have it all together. It’s okay to take up space, to rest, to not be everything to everyone all the time.

We deserve that grace. We deserve that care.

Here’s to more honest conversations — and to slowly, gently, choosing ourselves a little more each day.