Monday felt full of new.

And there was a two-way conversation going on inside me. Who am I, really? Why am I here?

I am writing this a little cold, a little under the weather. Thinking a lot.

This week was mind, body, heart. I spent it in a workshop on inner leadership. The kind where you close your eyes and draw instead of talk.

One page asked me to picture something that makes me feel safe. I drew a small green figure inside rings of blue and purple, with yellow all around.

One morning I invited someone to join me. With a smile, the way I always do. With care.

She said no. She had work. Then she said, stop smiling.

I said okay, it was just an invitation, her choice. She said it again. Stop smiling.

I stayed quiet. I thought I handled it well.

I did not. It took my whole day.

I did not know she was not well. I did not check. I had decided what she needed before asking her. Then I spent hours deciding what she must think of me.

Why did I invite her? Why did I care first and ask later? Why did I carry her reply like it was mine?

It is an old habit. Invite everyone with a smile. Take every reaction home.

I open every ring at once, to everyone.

The workshop asked us to thank the people behind what we can do today.

So I started my mornings that way. I wrote to people. Thank you. Here is how my week is going. Here is what I see. No filter.

It became a week of feelings.

When you follow gratitude far enough back, it reaches the first person.

Amma.

Her morning coffee with Magic biscuit. Her evening butter bun and cream bun. She fed me. She took care of my needs, and everyone else's too.

She taught me never to speak harshly to anyone. She is innocent that way. She was how I first saw the world.

She is the only person in my bloodline left in this world. For almost two years she has been alone at home while I am away.

She knows me from my voice.

I wrote to Dad too. Dear Dad, dear universe. He is not here to read it. I said thank you. I said rest in peace.

Through all of this, one word kept coming back. Boundary.

Then I looked at my drawing again.

The small figure in the middle is me. The inner me. The rings around it are the boundary. Not a wall. Layers.

People come in one ring at a time. It takes time to build a relationship. It takes time for someone to see who I really am.

That morning with the smile, I had opened every ring at once.

Some things need a boundary. For my inner peace. For my well-being, and for the people around me.

Because I am not the person I was two years ago.

I kept thinking about one question this week. Who helps you practice your new self with the people who will still be there after?

We spend a lot of time preparing a person to change. Much less time preparing the people they go home to. Those people still know the old version. Nobody is wrong. They are just holding different copies of the same relationship.

Amma has always been in the centre ring.

That evening I called her.

I told her things I had never said to her like that. Plainly. No filter.

She listened.

I cannot explain what that felt like. Something out of this world.

A boundary is not a wall. It is rings. People come closer as trust grows.

Who at home still knows you from your voice? Hit reply. I would love to hear.

Be kind, help people, trust muruga.
Nami

DODM 2026 - 15 Posts: Titles & Questions