A personal letter — from someone who has been exactly where you are now.I see you.

I want to talk to the part of you that nobody else is talking to right now.

Not the part that’s managing everything beautifully. Not the part that shows up, answers the messages, keeps the calendar running, and makes it all look effortless from the outside.

The other part. The one running quietly underneath all of that. The one that knows — has always known — exactly what it wants. And has been told, directly or indirectly, for years, that wanting it is inconvenient. Selfish. Too much. Not the right time.

That part. I see it. I know it. Because it used to be the only part of me I couldn’t talk about out loud.

✦ ✦ ✦
Here is something nobody told you:The definition of “good” that you have been living bywas written by other peoplefor their own convenience.You didn’t write it.You inherited it.And you have been honouring it at the expense of yourself for longer than you can remember.

Being responsible is not the problem. Being empathetic is not the problem. Showing up for the people you love — that’s not the problem either. These are not flaws to fix. These are the most beautiful parts of being human. Love, empathy, showing up — that is the basic essence of life itself. Keep those. Always. They are what make us whole and make the world worth being in.

The problem is the thing that got quietly dropped from the list while you were busy being good for everyone else. The version of you that keeps getting told — not by anyone out loud, but by the accumulated weight of everyone’s expectations — that they can wait.

They have waited long enough.

I want you to sit with this

“When was the last time you did something — not for anyone else, not because it was practical — just because you wanted it with everything you had?”

I can think of one — it still sends chills when I remember it
I have to search — something is there but buried under everything else
I can’t remember the last time — the file comes back empty
I feel it right now — reading this — and it’s uncomfortable

You are somebody too

You owe it to yourself as much as you owe it to others. Not more. Not less. Equal.

That’s not selfishness. That’s not abandonment. That’s the most basic form of justice you can offer yourself — the same consideration you extend to everyone else in your life, turned inward, once, with the same generosity.

Be sensible. Be responsible. Be empathetic — genuinely, not performatively. And also understand: you do not have to disappear inside your own life in order to be a good person. You are allowed to exist in it fully. And existing in it fully means having things that are non-negotiable. Things that are yours.

Not aBucket ListAFuckit List.

The things you would do even if everything else fell apart. Especially then.

What it means — and what goes on it

The non-negotiables.

Not goals. Not ambitions. Not things you’ll get to when life settles down. The things so deeply yours that no guilt, inconvenience, or other people’s opinions can talk you out of them.

What goes on this list is not there because it’s reasonable. It’s there because you want it — with your whole mind, body, and soul — and that is enough of a reason.

It could be absolutely anything. A place. A practice. A relationship with yourself you’ve been postponing. It could be taking care of someone — as long as it was your decision. Your thought. Your intention. Your want.

That deepest thing. The one that might seem crazy to someone else. The one you want with all your will. That one goes on the Fuckit list.

The Fuckit list made visible

Bali, on a swing above rice terraces, pink fabric flying. This was on the list. It happened. That’s the whole system.

It could be as quiet as one morning a week that belongs entirely to you. It could be as loud as going to see Mt. Everest with absolutely no training and just your willpower.

It could be taking care of someone — and that’s completely okay too. As long as it was your decision. Your thought. Your intention. Your want. Not assigned. Chosen.

What belongs on your Fuckit list:The thing that might seem crazy to someone else.The thing you want with every part of yourself.The thing you’ve been talking yourself out of for years.The thing that makes you feel most alive when you let yourself imagine actually doing it.That thing. That’s the one.

This life — the one the universe gave you to experience — is not a rehearsal for a better version that arrives later. It is the version. And your inner universe deserves to experience itself through you. Fully. Vicariously. Without apology.

Let the energy flow. Let you be what you came to be.

That is not up for negotiation.

How to find yours

Sit with yourself. Somewhere quiet, no phone, no agenda. And ask — not what you should want, not what makes sense, not what would be convenient for the people around you. Ask what you actually want. The thing that arrives before you can edit it.

Marinate in it. Let it be uncomfortable. Let it seem impractical. Let the committee in your head have its say — and then let it finish. Because underneath all of that noise is something that has been waiting, quietly, patiently, for you to stop being so busy being good that you forgot to be yourself.

And once you find it — go after it. Unapologetically. Without a press release. Without asking permission. Without waiting for the right moment, because the right moment is the one where you decide.

Nobody is coming to save youfrom the life you are living by default.Only you can decideto stop asking for permissionto want the life you want.And once you decide —the step is terrifyingand the step is the only way forwardand the step is yours to take.

Your Fuckit list — start here

“What is the one thing — crazy, impractical, entirely yours — that belongs on your Fuckit list?”

A place I need to go — I’ve been talking myself out of it for too long
A version of myself I keep almost becoming — then pulling back from
Time — just unscheduled, unaccountable, entirely mine
Something I’ve never said out loud because it sounds too big
This is what the other side looks like

This is what the other side looks like. Not perfect. Not resolved. Just real — and fully, unapologetically alive.

From someone who has been exactly where you are

I know what it feels like to carry all of it — the responsibilities, the people, the quiet war — while still showing up for everyone else like nothing is happening.

I know what it feels like to have the answer and not yet have the acceptance.

I know what it feels like to want something so deeply that it scares you — and to keep talking yourself out of it because the timing is never right and the guilt is always present and someone always needs something.

I also know what it feels like on the other side of that.

When you take the step that terrifies you and the world doesn’t end. When you keep the plan that inconveniences the schedule and come back more whole than you left. When you look at the year and the file isn’t empty anymore — it has your name on it, your choices in it, your life in it.

That’s what I want for you.

Not a perfect life. Not a resolved one. Just one where you are on the guest list. Where one thing — at minimum, one thing — is non-negotiable. Where the Fuckit list exists and has your handwriting on it and keeps getting longer.

You are somebody. You always were.

It’s time to live like it.

UjjwalaLife coach · Adventure traveler · Someone who chose herself — and kept everything else too

If this felt like I was reading your mail

“I’d like to talk to you.”

Not to sell you something. Not to give you another framework. Just a conversation — the kind where you don’t have to perform okay, where the quiet war is allowed in the room, and where we figure out together what your Fuckit list actually looks like.

30 minutes. No agenda. No pressure. Just honest.

Free download

The full Move. Unshaken. Undisturbed. workbook

All seven session worksheets in one PDF — including the Fuckit List template.

Move. Unshaken. Undisturbed.

“If this felt less like an article and more like someone finally saying the thing out loud —”

You just finished the series. Read them again whenever the background music gets loud. Let it be yours.

Or — book a free 30-minute call. The quiet war is allowed in the room. We’ll figure out the rest together.