Serving puff sleeves, poise, and the confidence of a 7-yo who absolutely believes she runs the house :)
I don’t know if it’s the time of year or the fact that I had an IMD breathwork session yesterday (HIGHLY RECOMMENDED) where I basically breathed, cried, screamed, and came out a calmer, shinier version of myself… but I’ve been thinking a lot about younger Manuja.
The one who thought “success” meant working in a glass high-rise, wearing heels that hurt, and confidently discussing things like leveraged ETFs at dinner. She’d lose her mind if she saw my life now.
Not because it’s perfect (lol, what even is perfection?!) but because so much of what feels normal to me today would’ve felt miraculous to her.
Running a business.
Making decisions without asking ten people first.
Backing myself even when it’s uncomfortable.
Building friendships with people who feel like home.
Creating a life I actually want to wake up to.
Healing in ways that younger-me didn’t even have the vocabulary for.
And yet… we don’t stop. We keep moving the goalposts. We forget to look back and notice that the problems we have today are the problems we once prayed for. (“Ugh, I have too many client meetings” is a very different life to “I hope someone replies to my email.”)
Maybe we don’t give ourselves credit because we rarely pause long enough to see the transformation. We treat life like one long sprint instead of noticing the quiet glow-ups happening in-between meetings, flights, workouts, and WhatsApp pings.
If your younger self could see you now, she’d say:
“You are exactly who I wanted to grow up to be.”
And maybe that’s why yesterday hit so hard. Somewhere between the breathwork, the noise, the release, and the silence that followed… I realised I’m proud of myself. Genuinely. Not in the humble-brag way. In the quiet, steady, earned way.
So here’s your Monday memo, written from a very soft, very grounded place: If you’re reading this, you’ve grown in ways the past version of you could only dream about. Even if it doesn’t feel like it today. Especially if it doesn’t feel like it today.
Your past self would look at you and think, “She’s a f*cking baller.”
M.
xx
Manuja
Not for everyone. Never was.
