The Plant on My Desk

I had a plant on my desk. I wanted this plant to be healthy and strong.

I gave it water. I gave it light. I did all the things I was supposed to do.

But the plant did not get better. It got weak. Its leaves turned yellow. It would not grow.

I thought it was my fault. I thought, "I am not good at this. I cannot even keep a plant alive."

Then my friend saw it. She told me, "It is not you. The pot is too small. The roots have no space. The plant cannot grow."

So, we put the plant in a bigger pot.

And then, something changed. The plant started to grow. It became green and strong. It was happy.

That is when I thought about my own life.

Sometimes, I feel just like that plant. I try hard. I work hard. But I feel stuck. I cannot move. I cannot grow.

I always think I am the problem.

But now I see. Sometimes, the problem is not you. The problem is what is around you.

Your "pot" might be too small.

1. The Weather of People

Think about the people you see every day. Notice how you feel after you've been with them.

I started paying attention to this.

I had one friend. After spending time with him, I often felt drained and down. My own good ideas started to feel foolish.

I have another friend. When I am with her, I feel lighter and more capable. My ideas seem to take flight.

It struck me that people are a kind of weather.

Some are like sunshine. They warm you and make everything feel possible.

Others are like a constant, gray overcast. They leave you feeling a little colder, a little darker, without you even realizing why.

This isn't always about cutting people out. It's first about just noticing the effect they have.

Ask yourself: "How do I feel when I walk away from this person?"

If you want to grow, you might find yourself naturally wanting to be around the sunny people more. You start to choose who gets your energy.

2. The Whisper of Your Space

Look at the room you are in.

For years, I believed my environment was irrelevant. I thought willpower was all that mattered.

I was wrong.

My old desk was a mess, buried in papers with my phone always within reach.

I’d sit down and tell myself, "Time to work." But I’d just shuffle papers, check my phone, and accomplish nothing. I blamed my own laziness.

Then, I cleared the desk. I put every non-essential item away and moved my phone to another room.

The next morning, I sat down and started working immediately. It was effortless.

That's when I learned it: your surroundings are always sending you quiet signals.

A chaotic kitchen makes it easier to grab junk food. A cluttered room makes it hard to start anything. A phone on your nightstand is an invitation to scroll.

If your book is tucked away on a shelf, you won't read it. If the healthy food is hard to reach, you won't eat it.

You are not the problem. Your space just isn't set up to help you succeed.

Take a look at your room. Your kitchen.

Ask: is this space designed to help me or to hinder me?

You don't need a picture-perfect space. Just one that works for you, not against you.

Put your book on the coffee table. Keep your running shoes by the door. Move the unhealthy snacks to a hard-to-reach cabinet.

Make the good things easy and the bad things difficult.

Change your space a little, and you will change along with it. You're not lazy. Your environment just hasn't been designed to be on your team.

3. The Unwritten Rules

We all live by rules in our head—rules we don't even see.

For years, I followed scripts I didn't know were there. I thought I was making my own choices, but I was just acting out a part written by others.

Let me share what I discovered.

My family operated on an unspoken rule: "Don't ask for much." So I never did. I assumed that was just how life worked.

My workplace had a culture of "Stay quiet." So I kept my ideas to myself, even when they were good.

My friend group had a rule of "Always be available." So I said yes to every plan, even when I was exhausted. I was running on empty but didn't know how to stop.

These rules were like invisible fences. They showed me exactly where the boundaries were and what not to attempt.

Then I started asking a simple question: "Says who?" Why do I do this? Who decided this was the rule?

That question changed everything.

Now I see these invisible rules everywhere. Rules that tell you to play small. Rules that warn you against change.

You don't have to rebel against all of them. You just need to see them first. Pick one rule and write it down. Look at it. Ask yourself: "Does this rule serve me, or does it just keep me small?"

Some rules are good. But many exist only to keep you in a familiar, confined space.

You get to choose which rules to keep. You can write new ones. But first, you have to see the old ones for what they are.

You're not truly stuck. You're just following a set of instructions you can't see. See them, and you can finally choose.

Finding a New Pot

Remember my plant? It was stuck. Then I moved it. It grew.

You might feel stuck too. It might not be you. It might be what's around you.

Think about three things:

·         The people you see

·         The place you live

·         The thoughts you have

Are these helping you grow? Or stopping you?

If you feel stuck, try this:

·         Find people who help you feel good

·         Make one small space clean and nice

·         Change one old thought for a new one

Start small. Just one thing.

You are like that plant. You need:

·         Good people (sunlight)

·         A good place (soil)

·         Good thoughts (water)

If these aren't right, you can't grow well.

But you can change this. You can find a better pot.

Be kind to yourself. You're not stuck forever. You just need the right place to grow.

Take one small step today. Find your new pot. You can do it.

  

Text Message Exchange

Do you ever hear a voice in your head? A voice that says mean things?

I do.

For a long time, my own voice in my head was not kind. When I wanted to try something new, it would say, “You can’t do that.” If I made a small mistake, it would say, “You always fail.”

I believed this voice. I thought it was telling me the truth. So I listened. I did not take chances. I stayed where I was safe. I felt small.

It was like listening to a broken record. The same bad song, again and again.

Then, one day, I had a new thought. It was a simple thought, but it changed my life.

What if that mean voice is not me? What if it is just a old record, playing a song I have heard too many times?

A record can get stuck. The needle falls into a scratch and plays the same part over and over. But the needle can be moved.

I realized I am the one holding the needle. I am not the broken song.

I can lift the needle. I can choose a new song to play.

This idea was a small, quiet spark in the dark. The stories we tell ourselves build our world.

But if your story is making you sad, you can change it. You can write a new one.

1. Listening to the Scratch

I used to feel bad a lot. I didn’t know why.

I felt worried. I felt nervous. I thought that was just life.

Then I learned something important. Before I felt bad, I had a thought. A quick thought in my head. I never noticed these thoughts before. They were too fast.

So I started to slow down. When I felt that nervous feeling, I would stop. I would be quiet for a second. I would ask myself:

“What did I just think?”

Slowly, I started to hear the thoughts.

Before talking to someone, I felt nervous. My thought was: “You will say something stupid.”

When someone looked at me, I felt shy. My thought was: “They don’t like you.”

I finally heard the broken record. It was these quick, mean thoughts. They were the reason I felt bad.

Just hearing them helped me. When I heard “You will say something stupid,” I could think, “Oh, that’s just my old thought.”

It was not the truth. It was just a thought I kept having.

And once I heard it, I could do something about it.

2. Talking Back to the Static

I caught my bad thoughts. But they were still strong. I had to make them weaker.

I learned to talk to my thoughts. I asked them questions.

When I thought, “I always fail,” I would stop. I would be quiet. Then I would talk to that thought.

I asked one question: “Is this true?”

I would think. Do I always fail? No. I tie my shoes. I make dinner. I call my mom. So, “always” is a lie.

I asked another question: “What is the proof?”

The proof for the bad thought was one thing. I made one mistake.

Then I looked for good proof. I looked for things I did right. I got out of bed. I went to work. I laughed today. The list of good things was long. The bad thought was wrong.

I looked for scary words.

My bad thoughts used scary words.

Always

Never

Everything

When I heard “I never do good,” I would change it. I would say, “I feel bad now. But I have done good things before.”

This helped me. The bad thoughts became quieter. I was not being mean to myself. I was just finding the truth. The truth was that I was okay.

3. Choosing a New Song

I stopped the bad thoughts. Now my mind was quiet.

I needed a new thought to play. But it had to be a true thought. A kind thought.

I did not say, “I am the best.” That felt like a lie.

I said a new thought that was true.

My old thought was: “You will do a bad job talking.”

My new thought was: “I am nervous. I know what I want to say. I will try my best.”

This new thought was not magic. But it was true. It helped me.

My old thought was: “Do not ask for that job. You cannot do it.”

My new thought was: “I can learn. It is okay to try. I will ask.”

This new thought did not promise I would get the job. It just let me try.

At first, the new thoughts felt small. The old thoughts were loud and strong.

But I kept using the new thoughts. Every day. Like practice.

Now, the new thoughts feel normal. They feel like my real voice.

The old thoughts still come sometimes. But now I can choose. I choose the new thought. I choose the thought that helps me.

You Hold the Needle

This is what I learned.

I am not perfect. The old songs still play sometimes.

But now I know I can choose.

I can hear the old song and say, “No, not today.” Then I play a new one.

You can do this too.

The music that fills your mind is yours to choose.

When you play a kind song, the world feels softer. When you play a brave song, your steps feel lighter.

It takes practice. Be gentle with yourself.

You hold the needle. Choose a song that helps you sing along.

 

And Find a Lasting Peace

I wake up.

It’s not slow or calm. It’s fast and rough. A silent alarm goes off in my head. And before my eyes can even get used to the light, the first shot is fired. It doesn’t come from outside my room. It comes from inside me. It comes from my own thoughts.

It’s a voice in my head. It’s a feeling, a constant feeling of worry that sits deep in my stomach. Then it turns into words: You didn’t sleep well. You have too much to do today. You are not ready for that meeting. Are you sure you are good enough?

This is how my day starts. Not with peace, but with a fight.

This isn't a normal war. There is no real enemy you can see. There are no soldiers or guns. The battlefield is my own mind. The strange part? The person I am fighting is also me. I am both the one starting the fight and the one getting hurt.

If you are reading this, I think you might know this war too. Maybe your fight is different. Maybe the voice in your head talks about your body, your job, your friends, or old mistakes you made. It’s the tired feeling of being stuck between who you are and who you wish you were. It’s the fight between your biggest dreams and your deepest fears. It’s the part of you that wants to fly, and the part that is too scared to leave the ground.

We all have this fight in some way. I see you. I know how hard it is.

This is the story of my war against myself. But more importantly, this is the story of how I am trying to stop the fight. It’s messy. It’s not perfect. Some days are better than others. But it is the most important work I have ever done.

Recognizing the Enemy Within

For a long, long time, I didn't know I was in a fight. I just felt tired and stressed all the time. I looked at other people and thought they had it all together. I thought I was the only one who couldn't keep up. At the end of the day, I was exhausted. But my work didn't make me tired. The noise in my own head made me tired. It was a voice that never stopped talking, pointing out every mistake and worrying about every little thing. I was being my own worst bully, and I didn't even know it.

I blamed everything else for how I felt. I thought my job was too hard. I thought my schedule was too busy. I thought other people were causing my problems. I kept waiting for my life to get easier, thinking that’s when the happy feeling would finally come. But it never did. The real problem was inside me, and I was trying to fix it by changing things on the outside.

My big moment of understanding came on a very normal day. I was at the grocery store, standing in the cereal aisle. I just needed to pick a box of cereal. But I couldn't. I stood there, frozen, holding two different boxes. My mind was screaming: What if you pick the wrong one? This is a stupid choice. Why is this so hard?

Looking at those two boxes of cereal, everything got very clear. This feeling of panic was not about the cereal. The cereal was fine. The problem was the voice in my head that was making a simple choice feel like a terrible, scary test.

That was the day I saw the real enemy. It was like turning on a light in a dark room. The enemy was not my job. It was not my messy house. The enemy was this thing inside me—this voice of fear and doubt. It was the part of me that took small, normal things and made them feel like huge, impossible problems.

You might know this feeling. Can you think of a time when a small thing, like a spilled coffee or a wrong turn, ruined your whole mood? That feeling is a big clue. It shows you that the real fight is not with the spilled coffee. The real fight is with the voice inside that says the spilled coffee means your whole day is bad.

We get this wrong all the time. We think our stress comes from the world around us. But the world is just what happens to us. The stress comes from how we talk to ourselves about what happens. When we see this, everything changes. We stop fighting with everything outside and start to understand the battle inside.

I finally saw that the source of all my stress was me. And that was scary, but it was also a relief. Because if I was the problem, then I could also be the solution.

The Lieutenant of Doubt and the General of Fear

When I finally understood I was in a war inside my mind, I knew I had to know my enemy. It wasn’t just one big, scary feeling. It was more like two different characters living in my head. I gave them names to make them easier to understand. I call them the Lieutenant of Doubt and the General of Fear.

Let me tell you about them. You might recognize them from your own life.

First, there is the Lieutenant of Doubt.

This voice is not loud. It is very quiet. It is the whisper you hear when you are trying to make a decision. The Lieutenant loves to focus on the small things. Its job is to make you question yourself. It uses worry as its weapon.

In my life, the Lieutenant sounds like this:

After I send an important email, it whispers, "Did you make a mistake? You probably said something wrong."

When I am getting ready to go out with friends, it suggests, "Are you sure they actually want you there? Maybe they just feel sorry for you."

If I have a new idea, it says, "That's a silly idea. Someone else has already done it better. Don't even try."

Do you see what it does? The Lieutenant does not yell. It just makes you feel a little bit unsure about everything. It makes you not trust your own choices. Its goal is to make you feel small and stop you from moving forward.

Then, there is the General of Fear.

This is the loud one. The Lieutenant whispers doubts, but the General shouts commands. The General is not interested in small details. It is only interested in keeping you safe from anything that feels scary or new. It uses fear as its weapon.

The General of Fear doesn't whisper; it screams:

It doesn't question your email; it shouts, "DON'T SEND THAT! What if they get angry? What if you lose your job?"

It doesn't suggest your friends might not want you; it commands, "STAY HOME! If you go, you will feel awkward and have a terrible time. It's safer here."

It doesn't say your idea is silly; it booms, "ABSOLUTELY NOT! If you try that, you will fail and everyone will laugh at you."

The General's only goal is to protect you by keeping you in one place. It thinks that staying inside your comfort zone is the only way to be safe. It would rather you be bored and unhappy than risk feeling a little scared.

We all have these two voices in some way. Maybe your Lieutenant of Doubt talks most about your looks. Maybe your General of Fear is loudest about money. But the pattern is the same for all of us. They work together. The Lieutenant makes you feel unsure, and then the General uses that fear to tell you to run away.

But here is the big secret I learned: I am not these voices.

You are not these voices.

We are the person who is hearing the voices. They are just a part of us, but they are not the boss of us.

Now, when I hear the Lieutenant whisper, "You can't do this," I can say to myself, "That's just the Lieutenant talking. It doesn't know everything." When the General screams, "THIS IS TOO SCARY!" I can say, "I hear you, General, but I am going to be brave and try anyway."

You can learn to do this too. We can learn to notice these voices without letting them control us. We can say, "Thank you for trying to help," and then we can make our own choice. We are in charge. Not the Lieutenant. Not the General. Us.

Ceasefire Strategies

Knowing about the Lieutenant and the General is a good first step. But what do you do when they are being very loud? For a long time, I thought I had to fight them. I would yell back in my head, "Be quiet! Leave me alone!" But I found that this just made things worse. It was like adding another angry person to the argument. It never helped.

I realized I did not need to win a big battle. I just needed a break. I needed a way to tell the voices, "Stop for a minute. Let's have some quiet." I call these my ceasefire strategies. They are simple tricks that help me calm the war in my mind. They don't make the voices go away forever, and that's okay. They just give me a few minutes of peace, and sometimes, that is all I need to keep going.

Let me share three of these simple strategies with you. I use them often, and maybe you will find them useful, too.

1. The "Naming" Trick

This one's for the Lieutenant of Doubt. When I hear that whisper—"You can't do this," "They are all judging you"—I do one simple thing. I give it a name.

I say to myself, "Oh, that's just the Lieutenant of Doubt talking again."

This is a very simple trick, but it works. Before, when a doubtful thought came, it felt like it was my thought. It felt true. But when I name it, I separate myself from it. It is no longer my truth. It is just a thought from a worried part of my brain. It is like hearing a radio playing in another room. You hear the noise, but you don't have to listen to it. You can notice the thought without letting it become your reality.

2. The "And Then What?" Game

This one is for the General of Fear. When the General is screaming about a disaster—"If you try this, you will fail and it will be terrible!"—I play a game with it. I ask, "Okay, and then what?"

Let's say the General shouts, "If you speak up in the meeting, you'll say something stupid!"
I answer back calmly: "Okay, let's say I do say something silly. And then what?"

"People will laugh at you!"

"And then what?"

"You'll feel embarrassed!"

"And then what?"

"Well... I guess I'll feel bad for an hour. Then the meeting will end. Life will go on. I will be okay."

Do you see what happens? This game makes your fear follow its own story to the end. And the end is almost never as bad as the General says it will be. You realize that even if the worst thing happened, you would survive it. We are much stronger than our fears. This game helps us remember that.

3. The 5-Minute Rule

Sometimes, I feel too overwhelmed to do anything. My to-do list feels like a mountain. The Lieutenant whispers that I will never get it all done, and the General screams that it's too hard to even start. I feel stuck.

On those days, I use the 5-Minute Rule. I make a deal with myself. I don't have to climb the whole mountain. I just have to start walking for five minutes.

I tell myself, "I only have to work on this messy closet for five minutes. That's all." Or, "I only have to write one single paragraph for five minutes."

This rule works because five minutes does not feel scary. It feels easy. The General has a hard time getting scared of something so small. And the best part is, once you start, you often want to keep going. You think, "Well, I've already started, I can do five more minutes." Starting is the hardest part. This rule helps you start.

Remember, we are not trying for perfection here. Some days, these tools will work great. Other days, they might not work as well, and that is okay. The important thing is that you are trying. You are learning how to be the one in charge of your mind again. You are learning how to call for a ceasefire, take a deep breath, and find a moment of peace.

The Prisoner of War

I have talked about fighting. But there is something worse than a fight. There is a time when the fighting stops because you have been captured. You become a prisoner in the war inside your own head.

This has happened to me. There were times when I felt completely defeated. The voices of doubt and fear were not just annoying me anymore. They had won. They became my guards, and they locked me in a prison made of my own thoughts.

In this prison, everything felt heavy. Waking up was hard. Getting out of bed felt like a huge task. My own mind felt like a trap. I was stuck with the same bad thoughts, playing over and over like a broken record. The record was all my mistakes, every failure, every time I felt I wasn't good enough. I would think about them for hours, feeling the pain again and again.

I was there in my room, but my mind was in a dark, cold jail. I could see the world outside, but I couldn't reach it. I felt numb. Things I used to love, like my favorite food or a funny movie, did nothing for me. I felt separate from everyone, like there was a thick glass wall between me and the rest of the world. I smiled when I was supposed to, but inside, I was just empty and tired.

If you are in this place right now, I want you to know something. I see you. I have been in that cage. I know how lonely it feels. I know how heavy the silence can be.

And I need you to hear this: You are not broken. You are not a failure. You are a person who is struggling. You are in a prison, but you are still you.

When you are a prisoner, it is very hard to escape on your own. You are too tired and too hurt to find the key. The bravest thing you can do is to ask for help.

Asking for help felt like losing. I thought, "I should be strong enough to handle this myself." But that was the prison talking. That was the fear trying to keep me alone.

For me, asking for help was a quiet text to a friend: "I'm having a really hard time." It was telling my family, "I don't feel okay." It was finally talking to a doctor. It was scary, but it was the first step out of that dark place.

We all need help sometimes. We are not meant to do everything alone. There is no shame in needing someone else.

You might feel like you are alone in that cage, but you are not. People are on the other side of that glass wall. They are waiting for a signal from you.

Asking for help is not giving up. It is the beginning of your rescue. It is how you start to find your way back to the light. It is how you remember that you deserve to be free.

From Enemy to Ally

For so long, I thought the only way to feel better was to win the war in my head. I wanted to defeat the Lieutenant of Doubt. I wanted to silence the General of Fear. I saw them as my enemies, and I fought them every single day.

But I was so tired. I realized that fighting them did not make them go away. It was like trying to push a rock down a hill, only to have it roll back up again. The more I fought, the more energy I lost.

Then, I had a new idea. What if I stopped fighting? What if I tried to make peace instead? It sounded strange. How can you make peace with the voices that make you feel so bad?

But I tried. And this changed everything. I began the slow work of turning my enemies into my allies.

Here is the most important thing I learned: The Lieutenant and the General were never trying to hurt me. They were trying to protect me. They were just doing a very bad job.

Think of your mind like a loyal, but very nervous, guard dog. Its job is to keep you safe. When you were little, its warnings were helpful: "Don't touch the hot stove!" or "Look both ways before crossing the street!" But now, the dog is confused. It thinks a difficult email is a real danger. It thinks meeting new people is a threat. So it barks all the time at things that are not really dangerous.

The Lieutenant of Doubt is that dog whining, trying to make you careful. The General of Fear is that dog barking loudly, trying to scare you away from anything new or uncertain. They are not evil. They are scared. They are using old methods to try and help you.

When I understood this, my heart softened. I stopped hating them and started feeling sorry for them. They were like tired, overworked bodyguards who needed a vacation.

So, I started talking to them in a new way.

When the Lieutenant whispers, "Don't try that, you might fail," I don't get angry. I say, "Thank you for trying to look out for me. I hear your concern. But I am going to try anyway."

When the General shouts, "This is too scary! Run away!" I take a breath and say, "I know you are trying to keep me safe. I appreciate that. But I need to be brave now."

This takes practice. It is like making friends with a shy animal. You cannot force it. You have to be patient and kind. Every day, you show up and offer a little kindness.

Some days, the animal still runs away. Some days, the voices are still loud. But other days, they are quieter. Slowly, they learn to trust you.

We are not trying to kill parts of ourselves. We are trying to bring them home. We are learning that doubt can be a careful friend, not a bully. Fear can be a sign to slow down, not a command to stop completely.

This is how the war ends. Not with a big victory, but with a quiet understanding. You learn to listen to all the parts of yourself. You thank them for their opinion. And then, you gently make your own choice.

We make peace when we realize the person we were fighting was just a lost and scared part of us that needed a little love. And when that happens, the war is over, and you are finally home.

The Scars and The Salute

My war is not completely over. I want to be honest with you about that. Some mornings, I still wake up feeling that old familiar fear. Some days, the doubt and the fear still feel very loud.

But things are different now. The fights don't last as long. The quiet moments last much longer. I have learned how to calm the storm inside me, even when the wind still blows.

This long fight has left me with scars. We all have them. My scars are the places where I got hurt the most. They are the times I still feel too sensitive. They are the moments I still worry for no clear reason. They are the habit of being hard on myself when I make a small mistake.

I used to hate these scars. I thought they made me weak. I thought they were proof that I had lost my war.

But I don't see them that way anymore.

Now, I see my scars differently. I see them as proof that I survived. Each one is a reminder of a battle I lived through. They show me how strong I really am. They are part of my story, and they have made me who I am today.

This brings me to the most important thing I do now. Every night, I give myself a salute.

It's not a military salute. It's simpler than that. I just put my hand on my heart. I feel it beating. And I say "thank you" to myself.

I'm not saluting because I had a perfect day. I'm saluting because I got through the day. I'm saluting because I tried. I'm saluting the part of me that kept going, even when it was hard. I'm saluting myself for being human - for being messy, and scared, and still showing up.

You have scars too. You have been fighting your own war. I want you to look at your scars differently tonight. Don't see them as weaknesses. See them as proof of your strength. That sensitivity means you feel deeply. That worry means you care about your life. These aren't flaws - they are marks of a person who is truly living.

So we end this journey together with a new understanding. We are learning to stop fighting ourselves. We are learning to make peace with all our parts - the strong parts and the scared parts.

Tonight, before you sleep, I want you to try it. Put your hand on your heart. Feel that steady beat. That heart has been with you through everything. It has never given up on you.

Now salute yourself. Salute yourself for getting through today. Salute yourself for reading this. Salute yourself for wanting a better life.

The war might not be over, but right now, in this moment, there is peace. You are here. You are breathing. And that is everything. That is worth saluting.

 

  

And Discover a More Confident, Courageous You