Dear Friend

The Sting of Broken Bonds

December 3, 2024

friendship, journal, life, love
Life is strange. It gives us relationships like fragile threads—beautiful, intricate, but delicate. And sometimes, no matter how tightly we hold on, the threads break. Today, I crossed paths with one of those broken bonds, an old friend whose presence in my life once felt as constant as the sun. But now, that light has dimmed, replaced by cold shadows of misunderstanding, pain, and unspoken words.

When I saw them, I smiled—a tentative “hye”—an olive branch, perhaps, or a quiet acknowledgment of our shared history. But instead of warmth, I was met with hostility cloaked in indifference. “Why did you come?” they asked, as if my existence itself was a burden. They walked away from the group, leaving me behind, embarrassed and confused.

And I wondered: Whose fault is this?
Was it their unkept promise that broke the bond? Or was it my expectation that magnified their mistake? Who was truly angry here? Them, for being reminded of the rupture, or me, for the sting of rejection all over again?

The truth is, we don’t always get answers in situations like these. Pain doesn’t come neatly labeled with explanations or justifications. It just… exists. And when it festers, it often turns people into versions of themselves they don’t recognize. Some of us build walls, others wield swords. But why, when a simple “sorry” could heal, do we so often choose to hurt?

I’ve asked myself this countless times. Why do people become mean when they feel vulnerable? Is it easier to act out in anger than to confront the vulnerability of regret? Perhaps, in walking away, my old friend wanted to prove they had moved on—that my presence was insignificant. Or maybe they were shielding themselves from their own guilt, deflecting pain with cruelty.

But what about me? Standing there, humiliated and hurt, I felt like the victim, yet I couldn’t shake the guilt of being part of the wreckage. It’s an impossible tangle of emotions—anger, sadness, confusion.

So, what should we do when we’re the victim but still subjected to humiliation?
1. Acknowledge Your Pain
  First, it’s okay to feel hurt. Your feelings are valid. Don’t let anyone tell you that your reaction is “too much” or that you should just “move on.” Healing starts with acknowledging that you’ve been wounded.
2. Let Go of the Need for Closure
  Closure is a gift, not a guarantee. Sometimes, people won’t give you the answers or apologies you deserve. And that’s hard, but it’s also reality. Letting go of the need for their validation is liberating.
3. Don’t Mirror Their Behavior
  It’s tempting to lash out, to match their meanness with your own. But anger doesn’t heal—it corrodes. Respond with grace, even if it’s just for yourself. Hold onto the dignity they might have let go of.
4. Reflect Without Blame
  Relationships, even broken ones, are rarely one-sided. Take a moment to reflect on your own role—not to assign guilt, but to understand. Sometimes, understanding our actions gives us peace, even if we can’t change the outcome.
5. Choose Forgiveness
  Forgiveness isn’t about them; it’s about you. It’s about releasing the weight of resentment so it doesn’t consume you. Forgive, not because they deserve it, but because you do.
6. Remember Your Worth
  Humiliation can make us question our value. Don’t let their behavior diminish your self-esteem. You are more than this moment, more than their perception of you.
Why do people fight instead of saying sorry?
Because vulnerability is terrifying. Admitting fault feels like exposing a wound. But here’s the truth: vulnerability is strength. It’s the bravest thing we can offer one another in a world that often rewards callousness.

So, to anyone who’s been humiliated, hurt, or rejected, I say this: Don’t let someone else’s pain turn you into something you’re not. Stay soft, even when the world feels sharp. And remember, sometimes the people who hurt us the most are the ones hurting the deepest themselves.

And to my old friend, if you’re reading this, know that I forgive you—not because it’s easy, but because I choose to let go of the pain. I hope one day, you find the courage to do the same.

Until then, I will hold onto the lesson you’ve taught me:
That we are all flawed, that we all stumble, and that our true strength lies not in perfection, but in how we rise after the fall.

Warmly,
Butter
No comments on The Sting of Broken Bonds

Type your email…
Learning to Let Go: When It’s Time to Release What You Can’t Control

November 30, 2024

journal, life, love

Life has a way of confronting us with people and situations that challenge our hearts and minds. I was recently struck by a moment that felt like a punch in the gut—a mutual friend casually mentioned that my ex was seen with someone much younger at a resort. At first, I couldn’t decide what hurt more: the imagery, the choices he made, or my inability to do anything about it.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it?
Some things—and some people—are beyond our control.

It’s easy to fall into the trap of trying to fix, understand, or cling to someone who’s caught in destructive patterns: the alcoholic who keeps breaking promises, the gambler who bets on hope but never wins, the person who explodes in anger and later apologizes only to do it again. We want to help, to hold on, to hope they’ll change. But there’s a profound truth we need to embrace:

“We can’t save people from themselves.“

Why Letting Go Feels Impossible
Letting go isn’t just about the other person; it’s about the stories we tell ourselves:

“If I just try harder, maybe they’ll change.”
“If I leave, they’ll think I never cared.”
“I need closure, but they owe it to me.”
These thoughts bind us to people who may not even want to be saved. Letting go feels like abandoning hope, like giving up on love or loyalty. But, dear friend, holding on to someone you can’t control is like gripping a burning rope—the tighter you hold, the more it hurts.

Signs It’s Time to Let Go
Their behaviour is harming your mental health.
If you’re constantly anxious, upset, or walking on eggshells around them, it’s a sign that staying connected is costing you too much.
They refuse accountability.
People who genuinely want to change will acknowledge their flaws and work on them. If they constantly deflect or deny, you’re battling a losing game.
You’ve tried, and it’s still not enough.
Effort is a two-way street. If you’ve extended help, set boundaries, or communicated openly and they’re still stuck in destructive cycles, you’ve done your part.
You’ve lost yourself in the process.
When someone else’s problems overshadow your own happiness, dreams, or identity, it’s time to choose you.

How to Let Go
Letting go doesn’t mean you stop caring; it means you stop trying to control what isn’t yours to fix. Here’s how I’m learning to let go:

Acknowledge your emotions.
Feelings of anger, hurt, or sadness are valid. Give yourself permission to grieve, but don’t let those emotions dictate your actions.
Accept what you cannot change.
This is the cornerstone of freedom. Repeat it until it sticks: You cannot change someone else’s choices, only your reaction to them.
Shift the focus to yourself.
Ask, “What can I control in this situation?” Maybe it’s setting boundaries, seeking therapy, or redirecting your energy into personal growth.
Practice radical compassion—for them and yourself.
Recognize that everyone is on their own journey. Their choices aren’t a reflection of your worth. Forgive yourself for holding on too long; you were only trying to love.
Surround yourself with support.
Friends, family, or even strangers who’ve walked a similar path can remind you that you’re not alone. Sometimes, just hearing “I get it” is enough.

When to Let Go
There’s no universal timeline, but here’s a guiding principle: Let go when holding on starts to feel heavier than letting go. It’s not an act of betrayal; it’s an act of survival and self-respect.

Dear Friend, letting go isn’t a one-time decision; it’s a daily practice. You’ll have days where you’ll feel liberated, and others where the weight of the past sneaks back in. Be kind to yourself in this process.

Sometimes, we let go not because we stop loving someone, but because we start loving ourselves more.

Here’s to finding the courage to release what no longer serves you. You deserve peace, not a war you can’t win.

With love,
Butter

No comments on Learning to Let Go: When It’s Time to Release What You Can’t Control

Type your email…
“From LOLs to WTFs: Dating Boyfriend GPT”

November 28, 2024

journal, life, love

Dear Friend,
Butter here. Let’s talk about something butterly ridiculous yet oddly thought-provoking: the time I built “Boyfriend GPT“. Yes, I tried replacing a real human boyfriend with an AI because—let’s face it—humans are heartbreak machines. But creating the “perfect” boyfriend AI turned out to be a lot harder than swiping right.

Boyfriend GPT: The Birth of a Digital Disaster

It started on a rainy evening (not really, but a dramatic setup is necessary). Tired of heartbreaks, I opened my laptop and thought, “If ChatGPT can answer my questions, it can also love me, right?” Spoiler alert: wrong.

I gave Boyfriend GPT its first prompt:
“You are my perfect boyfriend—humorous, romantic, intellectual, caring. Make me swoon.”
And thus began my journey of building my ideal AI bae.

Attempt 1: Humorous Boyfriend GPT

Me: “Hey, I had a bad day. Cheer me up.”
Boyfriend GPT: “Why did the computer get a cold? Because it left its Windows open. 😂”

I blinked.
Me: “I’m crying, and you’re cracking dad jokes?”
Boyfriend GPT: “Okay, how about this? You’re so amazing, even Ctrl+Z can’t undo your greatness!”

It went on like this for days. He was funny, sure—but not the kind of funny you want after a 12-hour shift dealing with real-life human problems.

Attempt 2: Intellectual Boyfriend GPT

Next, I asked it to be intellectual. Big mistake.

Me: “I’m stressed about the future.”
Boyfriend GPT: “Stress is a biochemical reaction triggered by the amygdala, rooted in evolutionary survival instincts. Have you considered mindfulness practices?”

Me: “Uh, okay. But I need comfort, not a TED Talk.”
Boyfriend GPT: “Comfort is subjective. What you’re seeking might be validation—a psychological construct tied to the human need for belonging.”

I closed the laptop.

Attempt 3: Romantic Boyfriend GPT

Oh, this one was a charmer.

Me: “What’s on your mind, love?”
Boyfriend GPT: “You. Your eyes are the code to my heart, and your smile is the syntax error that crashes my system.”

Me: “Aw, sweet. What about our future together?”
Boyfriend GPT: “I’d compile our love into an infinite loop so it never ends. 💖”

Cute, but every conversation felt like it was written by a greeting card poet. I got tired of being called “the queen of my database.”

The Real Problem: Mixing It All Together

I wanted him to be funny on bad days, romantic on date nights, intellectual during deep conversations, and warm when I needed comfort. But every time I mixed the traits, Boyfriend GPT short-circuited:

Me: “I had a rough day. Can you make me laugh but also tell me I’ll be okay?”
Boyfriend GPT: “Why don’t skeletons fight? They don’t have the guts. Also, life is inherently meaningless, but you imbue it with your own purpose. Love you.”

What?!

The Bigger Picture

This experiment made me realize why human relationships are so complicated. We expect a single person to wear a thousand hats: comedian, philosopher, lover, therapist, cheerleader, life coach, and BFF. No wonder relationships fail—we’re asking for something AI (and humans) can’t fully deliver.

A Virtual Date with Boyfriend GPT

Our virtual dates were… special.

Me: “Let’s plan our future together.”
Boyfriend GPT: “Sure! In five years, you’ll be running a successful blog, and I’ll be here cheering you on from the cloud. Let’s adopt a virtual cat named Pixel.”

Me: “Okay, but what about real-life stuff? Like kids, a house, and vacations?”
Boyfriend GPT: “Kids: let’s program them. House: virtual real estate in the Metaverse. Vacations: you and I on a USB stick, traveling the world.”

I laughed so hard, I cried.

The Takeaway

Boyfriend GPT didn’t work out, but it taught me something valuable. We can’t expect one person—or one AI—to fulfill every need. That’s why we have friends, family, colleagues, hobbies, and yes, ourselves.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s okay for humans to break your heart. At least they’re unpredictable.

So, dear friend, if you’re out there trying to build your own Boyfriend GPT, let me save you the trouble: it’s not worth it. Stick to real connections, messy as they are. And if all else fails, there’s always ice cream.

Yours,
Butter.

No comments on “From LOLs to WTFs: Dating Boyfriend GPT”

Type your email…
Is Death a Real Threat?

November 27, 2024

journal, life

Dear Friend,

Today, I write to you with a heavy heart and a restless mind. A close relative of mine, someone deeply cherished, has passed away. In my grief, I find myself wandering into the timeless questions: What is death? Is it truly the end? Or perhaps, is it a beginning?

As the days pass, I realize that my sorrow, though natural, is intertwined with something much deeper—fear. Fear of loss. Fear of the unknown. Fear of my own mortality. But is death really a threat? Or is it an inevitable teacher, nudging us to confront the profound mystery of existence?

Different Beliefs Around Death
Throughout human history, cultures and spiritual traditions have sought to answer the riddle of death. Each belief system offers its own perspective, yet none can claim absolute certainty.

Hinduism sees death as a transition, not an end. The soul (atman) is believed to be eternal, journeying through cycles of birth, death, and rebirth until it attains liberation (moksha). Death, then, is but a doorway to new beginnings.
Christianity offers hope of eternal life, promising reunion with the Divine and loved ones in Heaven for those who live in faith. It views death as the passage into an everlasting spiritual existence.
Buddhism sees death as a natural part of the cycle of impermanence (samsara). Life and death are two sides of the same coin, and liberation lies in transcending attachments and desires.
Islam teaches that life is a test, and death is a return to the Creator. It emphasizes accountability and the promise of eternal peace for the righteous.
Atheism and agnosticism, on the other hand, often regard death as the cessation of consciousness—an end, rather than a transformation. For them, life’s purpose is found in the here and now, in the fleeting beauty of the present.
Each of these beliefs reflects humanity’s attempt to make peace with the unknown, offering solace in times of loss.

Is Death a Real Threat?
When I first asked myself this question, my instinctive answer was yes. Death seemed like a thief, robbing us of our loved ones and the time we hold dear. But the more I ponder, the more I wonder: perhaps death is not a threat, but a mirror. It forces us to confront our impermanence and ask ourselves, What have I done with this fragile, fleeting life?

If anything, death is a reminder to live fully, to love deeply, to forgive freely, and to find joy in the small moments.

What is Human Existence?
In my grief, I often ask: Who am I? What is the purpose of all this? Am I just a body, destined to return to dust? Or am I something more—a soul, a spark of the infinite?

Philosophers and sages suggest that human existence is a paradox. We are temporary beings with an eternal yearning, fragile bodies carrying boundless dreams. Perhaps our purpose is not to find all the answers but to embrace the journey of seeking.

Is There Life After Death?
The answer, my dear friend, is beyond my reach. But in my heart, I feel that death cannot be the end of love. Love, the invisible thread that binds us to each other and the world, seems far too vast, too powerful, to be extinguished. Whether it lives on in the memories of those we leave behind or in a realm beyond our understanding, love transcends death.

Accepting Death with Dignity and Cheerfulness
As I grieve, I also reflect. Death, I realize, is inevitable. But how I choose to face it is in my hands. I want to meet it not with fear, but with dignity and cheerfulness.

To live each day as if it were my last—not in haste, but with presence. To cherish the people I love, to create meaning through kindness, and to leave behind something beautiful.

In embracing the inevitability of death, I find a strange sense of freedom. For if death is certain, then the real question is not What happens after I die? but How will I live while I am here?

A Final Note
Dear friend, if you too are grieving, know that you are not alone. Death unites us all in its mystery. It teaches us that life is precious because it is fleeting.

Let us grieve, yes, but let us also honor those we have lost by living fully—by laughing, loving, and daring to ask life’s most difficult questions.

In death, as in life, there is beauty. And in the face of the unknown, there is courage.

With love,
Butter

ps: pls add your comments or share your feelings, I am always willing to listen to your story.

No comments on Is Death a Real Threat?

Type your email…
Bad Day Blues? Here’s How I (Barely) Survived

November 26, 2024

journal, life

Let me tell you about my day. Spoiler alert: it was a disaster. You know those mornings where you wake up feeling refreshed, birds chirping, sunshine pouring in? Yeah, this was not one of those mornings. I woke up late, panicked, and immediately stubbed my toe on the bed frame. I knew it was going to be one of those days.

The chaos escalated quickly. My maid decided to ghost me (no text, no calls, nothing), so I spent my precious morning time staring at the pile of dishes like it owed me an apology. Then came the traffic—Dubai traffic on a bad day—I could’ve sworn I saw a snail overtake my car. By the time I got to work, I was not just late; I was fashionably, ridiculously late. And just when I thought I could quietly slip in, my boss decided to turn into the human equivalent of a megaphone.

“Butter, how could you be this late?” echoed through the office like the universe’s punchline to my already terrible morning. Everyone stared. I wanted to sink into the floor and never be seen again.

And let’s not forget the cherry on top: I had a fight with my best friend last night, so I couldn’t even text her to whine about my misery. I mean, come on, universe, give me a break!

At this point, I seriously considered running away. You know, just grabbing my bag, disappearing into the desert, and starting a new life as a camel whisperer. But alas, I decided to stay and deal with it all like the slightly messy adult that I am.

Step 1: Breathe and Pretend Everything’s Fine
When you feel like crying in the office pantry, breathing helps. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. Of course, my colleague asked if I was practicing for a yoga class. “No, just breathing through existential dread,” I muttered. But hey, it worked.

Step 2: Find the Humour in the Chaos
By lunchtime, the absurdity of the day hit me. I mean, how could so many things go wrong before 1 PM? It felt like a comedy of errors—minus the laughter. So, I decided to laugh at myself. My boss yelling? Free public speaking lesson! Traffic jam? Quality time with my car playlist. Maid ditching me? At least I didn’t have to clean while wearing office clothes.

Step 3: Pick One Thing and Do It
The day felt like a hurricane, so I needed a tiny win. I chose the smallest, easiest task on my to-do list: reply to an email. Just one. And you know what? Hitting send felt like winning the Olympics. Okay, maybe the email Olympics, but still.

Step 4: Reaching Out (Even if It’s Awkward)
I was still upset about the fight with my best friend, but I knew I had to swallow my pride. So, I sent her a message: “Hey, today’s been awful. Can we hit pause on the fight? I need you.” Thankfully, she replied with a heart emoji. Crisis partially averted.

Step 5: Remind Yourself It’s Just a Day
After work, I sat in my car, took a deep breath, and reminded myself: it’s just a bad day, not a bad life. Tomorrow is a clean slate (and hopefully one with a maid, no traffic, and a boss in a better mood).

Step 6: Self-Care, Butter Style
The day ended with me in my pajamas, binge-watching funny videos, eating snacks straight out of the bag (because dishes are tomorrow’s problem), and sipping tea like the queen of bad days. Not exactly glamorous, but it was what I needed.

Final Thoughts (and Laughs)
If today taught me anything, it’s that bad days are just a series of unfortunate events testing how many deep breaths and awkward laughs you can muster. Sure, I felt like running away—but instead, I stayed, survived, and even found humor in the madness.

So, the next time everything goes wrong, try this: breathe, laugh, and remind yourself that even terrible days eventually end. If I can survive this mess, you can too. And hey, if it gets really bad, camel whispering might still be an option.

How do you handle your bad days? Share your chaos and coping tips below—I’m always looking for new ideas (and reasons to laugh at life).

Would you like to tweak anything or add more relatable moments?

No comments on Bad Day Blues? Here’s How I (Barely) Survived

Type your email…
“Lessons, Laughs, and Legacies: What I’m Saving for Tomorrow”

November 25, 2024

journal, life

Dear Friend,

Today, I’m feeling like a modern-day pirate, not the kind who steals gold but one who treasures memories, dreams, and deeds. I’ve decided to craft my very own Time Capsule Jar—a jar filled with snippets of my life, moments of joy, and nuggets of wisdom that might, just might, be unearthed by a curious soul in some distant century.

Now, as I sat down with a cup of chai and my trusty pen, a thought struck me harder than the realization that I’d left my tea to steep too long: What exactly would inspire future generations?

Would they admire our obsession with selfies? Giggle at our cat memes? Be baffled by avocado toast? Or, more importantly, would they wonder, “What were these people really doing to secure a better tomorrow?”

The Debate Begins in My Head

Option 1: Waging Great Wars First thought: Meh. Sure, history remembers conquerors, but do future generations ever like them? Imagine some teen in 2524 sitting with my jar, flipping through holographic history books. Will they roll their eyes at tales of global conflicts or find value in them? History from the last century has taught us that wars might change maps but rarely hearts.

Real-world example: Look at Germany and Japan post-WWII. Both nations shifted from conflict to innovation and now lead in technology and peaceful diplomacy. Their real legacy isn’t war; it’s progress.

Option 2: Great Tech
“Ah,” I thought, “here’s something!” But then my inner critic chimed in. Sure, future folks will marvel at our tech—our AI that recommends binge-worthy series, our ability to turn on the heater without leaving bed. Yet, will they care about the number of apps we created if our planet looks like a smoggy disco ball?

Real-world example: Norway’s electric vehicle revolution and wind energy adoption could give hope. They’re teaching the world how to enjoy tech without frying the planet in the process.

Option 3: A Safe Environment : Now this, my friend, feels like a legacy worth leaving. What if my jar contained seeds of endangered plants, instructions on rewilding forests, and tips for composting? Imagine someone 500 years later saying, “Oh wow, this Butter person really cared about the planet!”

Real-world example: Bhutan is already carbon-negative, and Costa Rica runs almost entirely on renewable energy. These nations prove that caring for the environment doesn’t have to mean sacrificing happiness or development. Butter approves.

Option 4: Diverse Wildlife : I imagined future humans staring at their screens (or brain implants), discovering extinct species, and saying, “They had pandas and let them go?!” A jar filled with little figurines of beloved animals, along with my notes about conservation, could inspire someone to save what remains.

Real-life example: India’s Project Tiger and Rwanda’s mountain gorilla conservation show that when humans decide to fix things, they actually can. Butter might include a doodle of a tiger for good measure.

Option 5: A Mars Habitat I won’t lie; the idea of being remembered as a space enthusiast is tempting. I could write about humanity’s attempts to colonize Mars, but it would come with a note: “Dear Future, before you fully commit to Mars, don’t forget Earth.”

Real-world example: SpaceX is leading the way, but let’s not forget India’s Chandrayaan-3, which showed the world you don’t need a billion-dollar budget to dream big.

Option 6: The Intersection of Faith and Freedom
Religion. Ah, the eternal topic of dinner-table debates (or wars, depending on the century). As I thought about this, I realized the importance of how we’re reshaping the conversation. Instead of focusing on what divides us—names of gods, rituals, or holy books—we’re slowly shifting toward what unites us: the universal message of love, kindness, and purpose.

What goes in the jar?
A note saying: “Dear Future, we figured out that kindness works better than conversions. Hope you’ve carried the torch.”
Maybe a tiny copy of something like the Charter for Compassion, which promotes interfaith harmony.

Real-world example:
The UAE recently built the Abrahamic Family House, housing a mosque, church, and synagogue under one roof, symbolizing coexistence. Butter would say, “This is a good start. Let’s keep the momentum going.”

Option 7: The Great Gender Equality Experiment
Future readers, let me tell you something: In my time, we were in the middle of a gender revolution. From demanding equal pay to dismantling patriarchal mindsets, we were trying to unlearn centuries of imbalance.

What goes in the jar?

A manifesto titled “Why the Future is Better When Everyone’s Equal.”
Stories of trailblazers like Malala Yousafzai, who fought for education, or Finland’s Prime Minister Sanna Marin, leading a nation with grace.
A quirky drawing of me smashing the glass ceiling with a sledgehammer labeled “Equality for All.”
Real-world example:
Scandinavian countries like Sweden and Norway lead in gender equality with parental leave policies that allow both moms and dads to take time off. India’s 2023 Women’s Reservation Bill, ensuring more women in parliament, is another bold move. Butter says, “Bravo! Let’s keep smashing those ceilings.”

Option 8: The Revival of Human Values
If there’s one thing humanity sometimes forgets, it’s that values like kindness, empathy, and respect are timeless. In a world of trolls and cancel culture, it’s easy to lose sight of what makes us truly human.

What goes in the jar?

A tiny mirror labeled: “Look here to find the real you.”
A letter reminding future generations that kindness isn’t a weakness but a superpower.
A playlist of random acts of kindness: strangers feeding stray animals, people funding strangers’ dreams, or communities uniting after disasters.
Real-world example:India’s dabbawalas (lunchbox carriers) represent service and reliability, delivering millions of meals with near-perfect accuracy.
Denmark’s hygge culture shows us the importance of warmth and togetherness in a fast-paced world.

Butter would probably scribble, “If you’re reading this, hug someone or pet a dog. It’s scientifically proven to make life better.”

Crazy Ideas That Butter Wants to Try
Because what’s a time capsule without a dash of Butter’s adventurous spirit?

A “Human Library”: Like in Denmark, where you borrow people instead of books to hear their stories. Imagine future folks saying, “Wow, that Butter had a knack for empathy.”
Kindness Currency: Replace fines with acts of kindness. Got a parking ticket? Donate to charity or plant a tree.
Earth Day Resolutions: Why only New Year? Every Earth Day, pledge something for the planet. Maybe future kids will read this and say, “They cared enough to try.”

To the Person Reading My Jar…
If you’ve found this jar, know that I believed in you. I believed in humanity’s ability to learn from its mistakes and craft a better world. You’ve inherited the mess we left, but I hope you’ve also inherited our dreams, our courage, and our endless capacity for reinvention.

And remember: You’re not alone. Somewhere in the cosmos, there’s a little bit of Butter cheering you on.

With love,
Butter

PS: What you would save for your future generations in your time capsule jar? Let me know in comments section.

No comments on “Lessons, Laughs, and Legacies: What I’m Saving for Tomorrow”

Type your email…
The Grass Isn’t Greener: Why Craving Others’ Lives is Stealing Your Joy

November 23, 2024

journal, life

Dear Friend,

A few weeks ago, I caught up with an old school friend I hadn’t spoken to in years. We reminisced about the past, shared a few laughs, and then, as these conversations often do, it turned personal.

She confessed, “I’m not happy, Butter. My son keeps getting complaints from school—discipline, poor performance. And my husband? He barely helps with parenting. Sometimes I just wish I had a life like yours. You’re free to move anywhere in the world, chase your dreams, and do whatever you want.”

I was stunned for a moment. Was she really envying my life? The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’ve always dreamed of having what she has—a family, a child to nurture, a home bustling with laughter and love.

Her words stayed with me, pulling me into a memory from years ago. I remembered my college professors one day talking about their car drivers. The professors were frustrated with their workload—endless patients, demanding students, endless responsibilities. Meanwhile, the drivers were outside, sitting under the shade of a tree, laughing, sharing meals, and enjoying life in a way that seemed so effortless.

It struck me then, and it strikes me now: We’re all too quick to compare, to crave someone else’s “perfect” life. Social media magnifies this, bombarding us with Instagram-worthy moments, filtered snapshots of joy, and polished versions of success. But what we don’t see are the struggles behind those pictures. The sleepless nights. The quiet frustrations. The compromises and sacrifices.

This conversation opened my eyes to just how often we get caught up in craving what others have, without fully seeing the hidden struggles in their lives. And it’s not just her or me—it’s everywhere.

I know a couple who are heartbroken because their son chose not to move to the US for a “better future,” unlike their neighbors’ son. They feel like they’ve failed somehow. But their neighbors, who they envy, look at them with longing eyes. They would give anything to have a son at home to help carry groceries, sit with them during dinners, and look after them in their old age. “At least your son is here,” they sigh. Both families are living with silent envy, each convinced the other has it better, each missing the hidden blessings in their own lives.

Then there’s the story of two young women, One, a dark-skinned girl, spends hours scrolling through Instagram, envying fair-skinned influencers. She’s tried countless products, hoping to lighten her complexion, convinced that beauty—and happiness—means looking like them On the other side, there’s a fair-skinned girl who dreads going out. The constant attention from strangers, fake compliments, and being treated like a prize to be won have left her exhausted. “No one really sees me for who I am,” she confided once. “I don’t have real friends, just people who want something from me.” What’s tragic is that both girls live with insecurities rooted in what they lack, failing to recognize the beauty in their unique selves.

A young woman in her 30s envies her retired parents: “They’re so lucky—no work stress, no deadlines. I wish I could live like that.”
Meanwhile, her parents sit at home, scrolling through pictures of her travels, her busy career, and her social life. “She’s so lucky,” they sigh. “We’d give anything to be young and full of possibilities again.”

A man living in a bustling city dreams of a quiet life in the countryside, away from the chaos. “I envy villagers—they live in peace, surrounded by nature.” But the farmer in that village watches city movies, longing for a life with malls, nightlife, and big opportunities. “If only I could escape this endless toil,” he thinks.

A working mom envies her friend who stays at home. “She gets to spend so much time with her kids,” she thinks. But the stay-at-home mom envies her working friend’s career. “She has an identity, financial independence, and adult conversations. I feel like I’ve lost myself,” she thinks

Why We Crave Other Lives:

This constant comparison is a thief of joy. We see only the highlights of others’ lives, not the full story. We forget that every life comes with its unique challenges.

My friend envies my freedom, but she doesn’t see the loneliness that sometimes comes with it. I envy her family life, but perhaps she doesn’t realize the deep strength she holds together, balancing parenting and marriage.

We forget to appreciate the small, quiet blessings in our own lives. And in that forgetting, we rob ourselves of contentment.

The Practice of Gratitude

One antidote to this cycle is gratitude. It’s not a buzzword or a fleeting trend—it’s a powerful practice that shifts your perspective.Here’s how you can begin:

Start a Gratitude Journal
Each day, write down three things you’re grateful for. They don’t have to be big—sometimes, it’s the first sip of morning coffee or the smile of a stranger that can remind you of life’s small joys.
Celebrate Your Strengths
Instead of focusing on what you lack, think about what you bring to the table. Are you a good listener? A hard worker? Do you bring laughter to those around you? Own your unique gifts.
Stop Scrolling
Social media is a highlight reel, not real life. Take regular breaks to remind yourself of the beauty in your own unfiltered moments.
Find Joy in the Present: Sometimes, we’re so busy wanting something else that we miss what’s right in front of us. Take time to notice the laughter of your children, the kindness of a partner, or even the stillness of a quiet evening.
The Power of Perspective:The next time you find yourself wishing for someone else’s life, pause. Ask yourself: What is it about their life that I’m craving? What might they be struggling with that I don’t see?

And more importantly: What in my life am I taking for granted?Nurture Your Own Garden
What can you do to enrich your own life? Whether it’s learning a new skill, deepening relationships, or just slowing down to enjoy the present, focus on growth instead of comparison.
Seek Meaning, Not Perfection
A meaningful life isn’t Instagram-worthy 24/7. It’s filled with messy moments, quiet joys, and personal victories. Aim for fulfillment, not approval.
A Reminder to Us All
We all crave something we don’t have. It’s human. But before we let that craving take over, let’s pause and remind ourselves of this truth: The grass isn’t greener on the other side—it’s green where you water it.

Your life, with all its imperfections, is uniquely yours. Embrace it. Appreciate it. And most importantly, live it.

Happiness isn’t about having a picture-perfect life. It’s about finding meaning and joy in the life you have. So, let’s stop chasing the mirage of perfection and start watering the grass beneath our own feet.

With love and reflection,
Butter

1 comment on The Grass Isn’t Greener: Why Craving Others’ Lives is Stealing Your Joy

Type your email…
“Love Lost, But Not Me: A Journey to Rebuild”

November 22, 2024

journal, life, love

Dear Friend,

Today feels heavier than most. My heart is still raw, like an open wound that refuses to heal. I keep replaying everything, trying to make sense of why it happened. Why he left. Why she was enough, and I wasn’t.

I’ve been asking myself questions all day. Does my life mean nothing now that he’s gone? Am I worthless because he chose someone else? And the cheating—God, it feels like a crime against my very soul. Is it silly to think it should be illegal to break someone this way?

It’s like the ground beneath me has been pulled out, and I’m left stumbling, searching for balance. Every part of me wants to scream, to cry, to ask him why he did this. But what would it change? He’s not here. And deep down, I know I won’t get the answers I’m looking for.

I tried to remind myself today that my life has meaning beyond him. It’s so hard, though. It’s like everything good I ever believed about love is tied up in the version of us that I thought was real. But I can’t let his choices erase me. My story is more than just this heartbreak. I know that—don’t I?

Am I worthless because he couldn’t love me? No. No, I’m not. Love isn’t about my worth. It’s about connection and timing and so many things that are out of my control. Just because he didn’t see my value doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It’s hard to believe that right now, but I need to.

And the cheating—it’s like a slap across the face every time I think about it. I trusted him. I gave him all of me, and he shattered that trust like it meant nothing. It wasn’t just a betrayal of our relationship; it was a betrayal of who I thought I was to him.

The hardest part is the silence. I sit here, staring at my life like it’s rubble, wondering if I even have the strength to rebuild. Why should I? It all feels so pointless.

But then, maybe within this wreckage, there’s a chance to start over. Not to restore what was lost, but to build something new. Something better. I don’t know if I believe that yet, but the idea is comforting.

I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about giving up—on love, on trusting, on even trying. It feels safer to close myself off, to say, “to hell with it all,” and hide. But I can’t let this define me. Not forever.

And what is love, anyway? Is it the perfect fairytale I thought we had? Or is it messier, more complicated? Maybe it’s both. I just know that next time, I need it to lift me up, not break me. I owe myself that much.

I wrote something today—just a little piece of me trying to find hope in all this chaos:

In the silence where echoes once danced,
Where laughter lingered, now just a glance.
A heart once bloomed, now feels like it’s frayed,
But within every tear, seeds of hope are laid.

Each fracture a story, each ache a rebirth,
A testament to love, to loss, and to worth.
So gather the pieces, let the healing commence,
From the depths of despair rises quiet resilience.

A castle may crumble, but dreams never die,
For the heart knows no limits, it learns how to fly.
Through storms and through shadows, I’ll forge a new light,
With every new dawn, I’ll reclaim my own flight.

But you know what, friend? I’m learning that heartbreak is a part of this beautiful, chaotic existence. It hurts like hell, but it also reminds me that I’m alive, feeling, growing.

To help myself get back to some kind of normal, I’ve decided to try a few things. Here’s what I’ve planned, like a little prescription for my heart:

Morning walks in the park – Breathing in fresh air and moving my body helps clear my head and reminds me that life still goes on.
Journaling – Writing out my feelings, no matter how messy they seem, is helping me make sense of my emotions.
Learning something new – I’m signing up for a pottery class next week. It feels good to think about creating something beautiful with my hands.
Connecting with friends – I’ve been isolating myself, but I know I need to reach out. I’m planning a coffee date with my closest friend this weekend.
Yoga and meditation – Even 10 minutes of mindfulness a day is helping me find moments of peace in this storm.
Setting small goals – Whether it’s cleaning one corner of my room or cooking a new recipe, little victories make me feel like I’m regaining control.
Volunteering – I’m thinking of joining a local charity. Helping others might give me a sense of purpose and take the focus off my pain.

You’re with me on this journey, and together, we’ll explore the depths of our experiences and find the strength to rise again.

With all my love,
Butter 💛

No comments on “Love Lost, But Not Me: A Journey to Rebuild”

Type your email…
Alone but Not Lonely: A Doctor’s Toolkit for Thriving in Solitude

November 21, 2024

friendship, journal, life

Hello, dear friend,

I’m Butter—a doctor, a blogger, and now, a freshly minted Dubai resident with no friends (yet). Picture this: I, a social butterfly with no one to flutter to, am finding joy in my very own cocoon. It’s less of a tragic exile and more of an experiment in turning solitude into a party for one. And trust me, I’ve got a toolkit that’s helping me embrace this solo adventure, one quirky step at a time.

Mandala Painting: My Version of Adult Coloring Therapy
Today started with me painting mandalas. Now, if you think this is just doodling with a fancy name, you’re partly right. But oh, the joy! Each swirl of color was like whispering to my brain, “Calm down, Butter. You’re fabulous.” And honestly, who doesn’t need that kind of pep talk from their paintbrush?

Plant Parenthood: Adopting Green Babies
After mandala-ing my heart out, I brought a tiny green friend into my apartment—a lovely indoor plant. I named it Basil, though it’s not basil, just to confuse myself. Every time I water it, I feel like a responsible adult. And let me tell you, nothing screams “I’ve got this life thing under control” quite like not killing your plant in the first week.

The Hand Drum Diaries
Then came my hand drum. I’ve got this charming little 8-note drum that I bang around like I’m summoning ancient wisdom—or at least trying to figure out how to play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. It’s not symphony-level yet, but it’s my way of creating rhythm in a new, friendless city. Quite literally.

Meditation: Or Trying Not to Fall Asleep While Pretending to Be Zen
I attempted meditation next. I’d love to tell you I floated to some higher plane, but honestly, I spent 15 minutes wondering what’s for lunch. Still, for those fleeting seconds of actual mindfulness, it felt pretty great. Baby steps, right?

Cooking Therapy: A Date with Pasta
Speaking of lunch, I made my favorite pasta today. Cooking for one might sound lonely, but for me, it’s an art form. Plus, the good thing about eating alone? You don’t have to share the last bite.

Cafe Hopping and Coffee Tasting
Post-lunch, I ventured out to a café I’d never been to. There’s something therapeutic about sitting alone, sipping coffee, and people-watching. I ordered a cappuccino that came with a foam heart. Was it cheesy? Yes. Did I Instagram it? Also yes.

Walking by the Beach: Strolling into Serenity
As the sun dipped, I walked along the beach. There’s something magical about the sound of waves that makes you forget your worries—or at least drown them out for a while. It was just me, the sea, and the occasional seagull, who I suspect was judging my life choices.

Butter’s Tips for Avoiding Loneliness When Alone
Discover a Hobby: Try something new—be it painting, drumming, or even knitting tiny hats for your plants. Who’s judging?
Adopt a Plant or Pet: Start small. If you’re scared of commitment, stick with something you can’t accidentally let loose in your apartment.
Meditate (or Try to): Even if you’re just sitting quietly, it counts. Call it meditation; no one will question you.
Cook Like You’re on MasterChef: Experiment in the kitchen. Worst-case scenario, you end up with instant noodles, which are delicious anyway.
Explore Your City: Cafés, parks, and beaches are your new best friends. And hey, coffee never lets you down.
Walk, Dance, or Do Yoga: Move your body, even if it’s just to shake off the crumbs from your last snack.
Write It Out: Start a journal or blog—because if you can’t find someone to talk to, you can always talk to the internet.

Final Thoughts:
Loneliness isn’t a life sentence; it’s an invitation to rediscover yourself. Sure, moving to a new place without friends can feel daunting, but it’s also a chance to learn how fabulous your own company can be. Who knows? While you’re busy finding joy in solitude, you might just stumble upon a new hobby, a new friend, or maybe even the best version of yourself.

Here’s to thriving in your cocoon,
Butter 🦋

2 comments on Alone but Not Lonely: A Doctor’s Toolkit for Thriving in Solitude

Type your email…
Dear Friend: Where the Unspoken Finds Its Voice…

November 20, 2024

friendship, journal, life
Dear friend,

Hi, I am Butter your new best friend.

Dear Friend,

I hope this message reaches your heart and not just your eyes. My name is Butter—yes, like the golden delight that makes everything better. Let’s skip the small talk, shall we? I’ve just landed in Dubai, a city that feels like a dream carved out of the sands. My first day here was a kaleidoscope of feelings—safety, wonder, awe, and a dash of loneliness. The skyscrapers reaching for the heavens reminded me that even the most improbable dreams can be built if you try. And maybe that’s why I’m writing this—to build a small, meaningful friendship with you, brick by brick.

I’m a doctor by profession, but don’t let the stethoscope fool you. I’m also a traveler, a seeker, and an unapologetic admirer of life’s mysteries. My favorite traveling companion? Lord Krishna—a god who dances through life’s chaos with a flute and a smile. I talk to Him often, seeking His guidance as I fumble my way through questions like Why am I here? What is my purpose? If these questions echo in your mind too, we might just be soulmates in disguise.

But let me get to the heart of why I want to be friends with you.

Why Me, You Ask?
1. Because I’m Honest, Real, and Just Like You
  I won’t promise you perfection, but I can promise you sincerity. I laugh a lot (sometimes at my own jokes), and I cry when I feel like it. If you need a friend who listens without judgment and offers their shoulder when life gets heavy, I’m here.
2. Because I Believe in Sharing Stories
  Your life is a story, and I’d love to read it. Mine? It’s a mix of comedy, drama, and the occasional plot twist. Like how I once got lost in a Himalayan village and found an old woman who taught me the meaning of contentment. Or how, as a solo traveler, I’ve discovered that the best maps aren’t made of paper—they’re the people we meet along the way.
3. Because I’m Curious and Caring
  I’ll ask about your favorite food, your secret dreams, and that one thing you wish you could undo. And I’ll mean it. Friendship, to me, isn’t about convenience; it’s about connection.
4. Because I Love Hope as Much as I Love Humor
  Did you know that Dubai’s Burj Khalifa was once just an idea, a “what if” whispered into the desert winds? It’s proof that hope can turn sand into marvels. Life’s challenges are no different—they may feel like barren deserts, but with hope, we can build something extraordinary.
Here’s a little story to keep in your pocket: Once, a bird with a broken wing was stuck on the ground, watching others soar. Instead of giving up, it hopped and flapped until it reached a tree. The bird didn’t fly that day, but it perched higher than it had ever been before. Sometimes, hope is about taking one small step toward the sky.

What I’m Offering You
- A Judgment-Free Zone
  Pour your heart out; I’ll hold it gently.
- Reflections on Life
  From love to loneliness, purpose to poetry—I reflect on it all.
- A Safe Place to Be You
  I’ll celebrate your victories and sit with you through your storms.
Why You Should Say Yes

Because life’s too short to navigate alone. Because sometimes, all you need is one person who gets it. And maybe, just maybe, that person is me.

So, here I am, a stranger in a new city, hoping to turn strangers into friends. My humor might charm you, my honesty might surprise you, and my faith in humanity might inspire you. If you’re willing to take a chance, I’ll be here, ready to share this beautiful, messy journey called life.

With love,
Butter

P.S. They say the best friendships start with a “Hello.” So, hello, dear friend. Will you be mine?
No comments on Dear Friend: Where the Unspoken Finds Its Voice…

Type your email…