Ladyink with love

Tag: writers-block

  • The Art of Returning

    Returning to old passions is sometimes the first step toward finding yourself again.

    I recently started thinking about how much I love writing and all the years I had lost not being able to do it.

    I was just having a conversation with my friend, well kind of asking her about this. She used to draw, but unfortunately due to growing up and responsibilities she had to leave that behind. But recently while speaking to her, I sort of asked her if she draws and she said “Sounds really rejuvenating”.

    This got me thinking, when I was a child I used to write my thoughts, quotes or poems in a notebook as a child and then I absolutely left that due to my studies and being a teenager.

    For years, I did not touch a pen to write my thoughts, until this one time when I was 24 and I met someone. This guy was working in my office and would do freelance writing. He seemed quite intellectual, but that was not a meeting I ever want to remember, that’s a story for maybe a few years… (my mom reads my blog, so I don’t want to talk about boys here….. Not for now.)

    Anyways, I thought it was so cool to be able to do what you love while carrying responsibility.

    And it stuck in my head, why couldn’t I do it?

    And then in 2022, I completely changed my life… I left my job and found a better company, enrolled for my master’s degree in literature, and I also got a home with my sister. 2022 was a pivotal year for me.

    So, I got back into writing in 2024, and started the blog and worked on my books.

    I questioned, what would my life look like today if I had never returned to writing?

    It would be dead actually, it would be boring with me doing absolutely nothing productive. My writing has not only helped me to write, but it in a way shaped my thoughts and discipline in life. So, I would have been a completely different person without it.

    Why do people slowly abandon the things they once loved?

    People slowly abandon the things they once loved due to natural psychological shifts, including the evolution of personal identity, diminishing returns (habituation), and the accumulation of negative associations or pressure.

    Over time, priorities naturally change, and what once brought joy may no longer align with a person’s current lifestyle or values.

    Psychologists and behavioral scientists point to a few core reasons for this drift:

    The Novelty Wears Off (Habituation):
    The human brain is wired to adapt to recurring stimuli. The intense dopamine rush experienced when first engaging in a new hobby or passion naturally levels out, making the activity feel routine or less exciting over time.

    Identity Shifts:
    As people grow, their sense of self evolves. An activity that defined a person in their teens or twenties might no longer fit who they are, causing them to naturally outgrow it.

    The “Value vs. Effort” Equation:
    Hobbies can start to feel like chores. If the mental, physical, or financial effort required to maintain a passion begins to outweigh the joy it brings, people slowly disengage.

    Performance Pressure:
    Turning a beloved hobby into a side hustle or comparing oneself to experts can introduce stress and anxiety, stripping the activity of its original recreational value.

    Competing Priorities:
    Life stages change. New responsibilities—such as careers, family, or other life events—limit available time, forcing individuals to consciously or subconsciously reallocate their attention.

    Ultimately, abandoning a past interest is rarely a sudden rejection; rather, it is usually a gradual fading of interest as new habits and phases of life take precedence.

    What changes when someone starts doing an old hobby again? Is it the hobby itself, or something deeper?

    When someone returns to an old hobby, the activity itself rarely changes. Instead, the transformation is entirely internal.
    Reigniting a past passion alters your psychological relationship with the activity, reflecting deep changes in your personal growth and mindset.

    What Actually Changes

    A Shift in Motivation:
    People usually return to hobbies for therapeutic reasons rather than achievement. The initial drive to master a skill is replaced by a desire for stress relief, nostalgia, or mental clarity.

    Lowered Stakes:
    The pressure to perform or compete typically vanishes. Adults returning to childhood hobbies care less about perfection and more about pure enjoyment.

    New Perspectives:
    Years of life experience give you a different lens. A book read a decade ago reveals new meanings; a sport played with a mature body requires new strategies.

    Dopamine Reset:
    The brain is no longer chasing the frantic high of novelty. Instead, it experiences the grounding comfort of predictability and familiarity.

    The Deeper Psychological Shift

    Returning to a hobby is often an act of self-reclamation. It signifies a desire to reconnect with a version of yourself that existed before life became consumed by career, family, or societal pressures. It is an intentional choice to prioritize personal joy over productivity, marking a transition from survival mode back into self-care.

    What do we lose when we stop creating, exploring, or playing just because we’re adults?

    When we stop creating, exploring, and playing in adulthood, we lose essential cognitive, emotional, and social benefits. Abandoning these activities diminishes our natural adaptability, restricts our ability to relieve stress, and stifles the creative problem-solving skills necessary for navigating a complex world.

    Here is a breakdown of what we miss out on when we lose touch with these vital human drives:
    1. The Cost of Not Creating

    Suppressed Emotional Processing: Making art or building things provides a healthy outlet to process complex feelings, leading to lower anxiety and better mood regulation.

    Stifled Innovation: Creativity isn’t just for artists; it is the foundation of innovation. Without it, we lose the drive to challenge the status quo and find novel solutions in our careers and personal lives.

    Diminished Sense of Agency: Creating reminds us that we can shape our environment. When we stop, we transition from active participants in our lives to passive consumers.

    1. The Cost of Not Exploring

    Reduced Neuroplasticity: Exploring new hobbies, places, or ideas forces the brain to form new neural pathways. Without this stimulation, our minds become rigid, making it harder to learn new skills.

    Eroded Curiosity: The world is full of nuance. When we stop exploring, we settle for surface-level assumptions and lose the childlike wonder that keeps life engaging.

    Stagnant Personal Growth: Stepping out of our comfort zone builds resilience. Without exploration, we risk becoming complacent and overly comfortable with monotony.

    1. The Cost of Not Playing

    Higher Stress and Burnout: Play is a primary way the nervous system resets. Adults who don’t play are more susceptible to chronic stress and emotional exhaustion.

    Poor Interpersonal Connection: Shared play builds trust and deepens relationships. A lack of it can lead to isolation and more rigid, transactional interactions with friends, family, and colleagues.

    Loss of Adaptive Thinking: Play allows us to experiment, fail, and try again without high stakes. Without it, we become terrified of making mistakes, which heavily limits our willingness to take healthy risks.

    Psychologists and researchers emphasize that play and creativity are not luxuries; they are biological imperatives that keep our brains healthy and our spirits vibrant. Engaging in these activities releases endorphins, boosts immune function, and fosters a lifelong enthusiasm for living.

    Conclusion

    Maybe growing up was never supposed to mean leaving behind the things that once made us feel alive. Somewhere between deadlines, responsibilities, and the constant pressure to be productive, many of us quietly set aside the hobbies that once brought us joy.

    But the beautiful thing about passion is that it doesn’t disappear. It waits.

    Whether it’s writing, drawing, dancing, painting, playing an instrument, or something only you know, it’s never too late to return to it. You don’t have to be as good as you once were. You don’t have to turn it into a career or a side hustle. You don’t even have to share it with anyone.

    Just begin again.

    So today, I want to leave you with one question: What is one thing you loved doing that you’ve quietly left behind?

    Maybe it’s time to dust it off, give yourself permission to be a beginner again, and rediscover a part of yourself you thought was gone.

    Do let me know which hobbies you want to get in touch with below! 👇🏻💕

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  • Raised to Be Responsible: The Hidden Weight of Being the Eldest Daughter

    I was minding my own business one day when a video about eldest daughters showed up on my Instagram feed. It was an influencer talking about the struggles of being the eldest daughter. At first I scrolled past it. Then another video appeared. And another.

    Suddenly I realized something uncomfortable.

    I related to almost all of it.

    I have always felt like the man of the house. Why you might ask, I don’t know, I just feel like it. I earn money, give it to my mother and then mind my own business and let my mom run the house.

    So when I saw those videos one after another, it felt weird but relatable on a deeper level.

    But why is that? Why do I feel like that?

    Where does this “elder daughter syndrome” even start?

    An elder or eldest daughter is the first-born female child in a family, or the oldest daughter among siblings. She is the girl with the highest chronological age among her sisters and brothers.

    She is often viewed as a “third parent” or role model in the family and to her siblings.

    She is frequently expected to be responsible, nurturing, and emotionally grounded, acting as a caretaker for her younger siblings.

    Being the oldest female sibling in your family can have an impact on your personality and behavior. And this my friend is a universal feeling, every eldest daughter has felt growing up.

    If you had grown up as an eldest daughter, you might have felt the sense of responsibility towards your house and family that you still carry in your adulthood.

    Some Common traits people associate with it :

    Many eldest daughters report growing up as the:

    1. The responsible one

    Parents expect them to be mature early.
    Helping with younger siblings, chores, or being the “example”.

    2. The emotional mediator

    They become the person who:

    calming fights
    comforting parents
    managing everyone’s emotions

    Basically the family therapist before they’re even adults.

    3. High expectations Things like:

    better grades
    better behavior
    more discipline
    Mistakes are judged more harshly because they’re “the eldest”.

    4. Hyper-independence Because they learned early that people depend on them, they often struggle to:

    ask for help
    relax
    let others take responsibility

    5. Pressure to succeed Sometimes they feel their life choices reflect on the whole family.

    Let’s be honest I personally relate to all of it (except the best grade part, because I hated studying the most in the world, so I left that part on my sister who is a middle child and that’s a different struggle altogether), as I have felt like this for a long time. And as an adult I do struggle in asking for help. I’ve spent so many years being the reliable one that the idea of needing support feels uncomfortable.

    Part of me still believes I should be able to handle everything on my own.

    Why does this happen?

    In many cases, it’s begins with simple family dynamics.

    When people become parents for the first time, they are still figuring things out. The eldest child often becomes the learning experience. By the time younger siblings arrive, parents have already learned from those early mistakes.

    The eldest also almost always becomes a role model naturally, making your siblings follow you and that also increases responsibilities in older children.

    Why does the eldest daughter often feel more burned out than the eldest son?

    Birth order alone doesn’t explain it. The difference mostly comes from how boys and girls are socialized inside families.
    Emotional labor vs achievement pressure
    In many households, the eldest son is pushed toward external success.

    He hears things like:

    Study well.
    Get a good job.
    Take care of the family financially later.
    The eldest daughter often gets a different set of expectations.

    She is expected to manage the emotional climate of the house.

    That includes things like:

    calming younger siblings.
    helping with their homework.
    assisting the mother with chores.
    being “mature” and well-behaved.
    understanding parents’ struggles.

    The problem is that emotional labor has no clear boundaries. It never really ends.
    If your job is just to study or build a career, you can log off at some point.

    If your role is keeping everyone emotionally stable, you’re always on duty.

    That’s where the burnout comes from.
    Parentification

    Psychologists sometimes call this parentification.

    It means a child starts acting like a third parent too early.

    This might look like:

    babysitting siblings constantly.
    mediating fights between family members.
    feeling responsible for parents’ feelings.
    being the “reliable one” who cannot mess up.

    Some eldest sons experience this too. But statistically, daughters are asked to do it more often, especially in cultures where caregiving is linked to femininity.

    The “good daughter” trap

    Another subtle factor is behavior expectations.

    Girls are usually rewarded for being:
    responsible
    quiet
    helpful
    emotionally aware

    So the eldest daughter learns very quickly that love and approval come from being dependable.

    Over time, that becomes part of her identity. Even as an adult she might feel guilty if she doesn’t step in and fix things.
    That’s where the long-term exhaustion shows up.

    The bigger point

    The “eldest daughter syndrome” conversation online resonates because it captures a real pattern. Girls are often trained early to be caretakers.

    That training builds strengths like:

    emotional intelligence
    leadership
    resilience

    But it can also create adults who feel responsible for everyone else’s stability except their own.

    The healthiest shift later in life is learning that being capable doesn’t mean you must carry everything.

    Screenshot

    How can one overcome this?

    To be honest, we all know that the “eldest daughter burnout” isn’t fixed by one trick. It usually comes from years of conditioning. You learned that your value comes from being useful, responsible, and emotionally available. That doesn’t disappear overnight.

    But it can be undone. Here’s what actually helps.

    1. Stop confusing responsibility with self-worth

    Many eldest daughters internalize this belief, “If I don’t hold things together, everything will fall apart.”

    That sounds noble, but it’s also a control illusion. Families function with or without you managing everything.

    What this really means is learning to ask yourself a simple question before stepping in.

    Is this actually my responsibility, or am I volunteering because I feel guilty if I don’t?

    A lot of burnout disappears the moment you stop adopting problems that aren’t yours.

    2. Set boundaries with family (even small ones)

    This is the hardest step because families resist it.

    If you’ve been the reliable one for years, people expect it. The moment you stop over-functioning, someone will say things like:

    You’ve changed
    You don’t care anymore
    You used to help more

    That pushback doesn’t mean you’re wrong. It means the system is adjusting.
    Start small:

    don’t solve every sibling problem
    don’t mediate every family conflict
    let adults handle their own issues

    You’re not abandoning people. You’re returning responsibility to where it belongs.

    3. Stop being the emotional sponge

    Many eldest daughters absorb everyone’s emotions. They listen to every complaint, every crisis, every frustration.

    That creates a hidden load.

    You can care about someone without becoming their emotional container.
    Sometimes the healthiest response is simply, “That sounds tough. I hope you figure it out.”

    Notice the difference. You acknowledged them without taking ownership of the problem.

    4. Build an identity outside “the responsible one”.

    This is important.

    If your identity for years was:

    The dependable one
    the strong one
    the one who handles everything

    Then relaxing feels wrong. Almost selfish.
    You need other identities too:

    writer
    friend
    athlete
    traveler
    learner.

    Your life cannot revolve only around being useful to others.

    5. Accept that people may see you differently

    When you stop over-functioning, some people will think you became colder.
    In reality, you probably just became healthier.

    A lot of women delay this step because they want everyone to remain comfortable. But growth often means someone else loses the convenience they had with you.

    That’s part of adulthood.

    Conclusion

    For many years I thought this constant sense of responsibility was simply part of my personality. Only recently did I realize it might also be the role I was trained to play as the eldest daughter.

    At its core, what people call eldest daughter syndrome is really about roles learned early in life. Many eldest daughters grow up being dependable, mature, and emotionally aware long before they are ready for that weight. Over time, those expectations can turn into pressure, and that pressure can lead to exhaustion.

    But the same experiences that create burnout also build powerful strengths. Eldest daughters often develop resilience, leadership, and deep emotional intelligence because they learned how to navigate responsibility early. The challenge in adulthood is not to erase those qualities, but to balance them with self-respect and boundaries.

    Learning to step back, share responsibility, and prioritize personal well-being allows women to keep their strength without carrying the entire emotional load of others. In the end, growth comes from recognizing that being capable does not mean being responsible for everything. True strength lies in knowing when to support others and when to protect your own energy.

    Hi, it has been a while, but I have been so busy with everything.

    I am trying to be more active from now on.

    Thank you so much for reading this far. 🤗🌷

    Do let me know your thoughts below 👇🏻💕

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  • Do you believe in fate/destiny?

    Do I believe in fate? Or do I just need life to make sense?

    If something bad happens, my first instinct is to tell myself it was meant to teach me something. It helps. It softens the blow. But give me a few hours and I’ll start analyzing my own choices. What did I miss? What could I have done differently? Where did I mess up?

    So clearly, I don’t believe everything is pre-written.

    But when it comes to love, I want destiny.

    I don’t want strategy. I don’t want “we met through mutual career networking and aligned life goals.” I want the cinematic moment. The unexpected connection. The feeling of “oh, this was always going to happen.”

    And that says a lot.

    Because when I think about career, money, fitness, writing — I’m practical. I know effort builds outcomes. But when I think about love, I want it to feel fated. Like some invisible thread was pulling us toward each other.

    Maybe that’s romantic. Maybe that’s naive. Or maybe it’s just human.

    I also believe some people come into your life only to teach you something. Not to stay. Not to build a future with you. Just to trigger growth. And I don’t think that’s blind destiny. I think it’s meaning-making. It’s how we survive disappointment without turning bitter.

    I think, believing in fate protects you from rejection.

    If it wasn’t meant to be, then it wasn’t about your worth. If it ended, maybe it served its purpose. That belief is soothing. But it can also become a shield.

    So do I believe in destiny?

    I think I believe in themes. Certain chapters feel bigger than coincidence. But the details? The timing? The choices? That’s on me.

    Maybe fate gives you the stage.

    But you still have to show up and act.

    And honestly, that balance feels right.

    Let me know if you believe in destiny or fate down below 👇🏻💕

    i know I have been away for a month, well my sister got married and I was busy with that. As I maid of Honor I had a lot of work to do. But now I’m back on track. I believe I will be Posting more from now on.

    see you soon again. 😁

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  • What have you been putting off doing? Why

    Ohh….. A lot of things. The first is my second book. I have 2 ideas about 2 books, I am unable to choose which one I want to proceed with for now. I also don’t know where I want to put those books on. So I don’t know how I feel about all of this. Inspite of the fact that I have ideas, I am still unable to put it to practice. So I am stuck here…..

    And the other thing is my poem book, again I have ideas for all the 20 poems, but because I also have a job, I am unable to start on this too. It’s like, I have the ideas, but I don’t know how to execute it. Am I the only one why feel like this? Or does anyone else also feels like it?

    I feel like I have absolute no purpose right now, and I’m stuck in a loop, I don’t know how to get out of. I havebeen listening to BTS Sabrina Carpenter and Taylor’s new album, and that’s all I am doing. Working and listening to BTS, Taylor and Sabrina.

    But I will surely start something this Saturday on my week off.

    WISH ME LUCK!! 🤞🏻💕

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  • What was the hardest personal goal you’ve set for yourself?

    Sometimes I wonder if I’m a writer or just a professional overthinker with good sentence structure 😭. Every time I sit down to write, it feels like a wrestling match between my brain, my self-doubt, and my coffee mug. I start with a fire in my chest and end up spiraling into “does anyone even care what I’m saying?” territory. Classic, right?

    Writing is the one thing that makes me feel alive — and also completely lost. It’s wild how something so personal can feel like both purpose and punishment. I want to create, I want to be read, I want to build something that matters — but half the time I feel like I’m just screaming into the void and hoping it echoes back 🌀.

    The truth is, this isn’t just about writing. It’s about identity. It’s about proving to myself that I’m capable of building something real from my thoughts. I work a corporate job, I do all the adulting, but this? Writing is the one thing that’s mine. No deadlines, no manager, no “as per our discussion.” Just me and the page — and sometimes that’s scarier than any meetings.

    I used to think the problem was time. “I’ll write when I have a free evening.” “I’ll start that story when work slows down.” Spoiler: it never slows down. The truth is, I wasn’t short on time — I was short on courage. Because writing means facing your own thoughts head-on, and that’s not always cute or convenient.

    Every now and then, I think about giving up. Packing it in. Pretending I never had this dream in the first place. But then I’ll read a line — from Austen, or JK Rowling (controversial…. I know), or even something I wrote months ago — and it hits me. That spark is still there. Faint, maybe. But real! And it deserves to be fed.

    So yes, I’m still at the starting point. Still figuring out my rhythm, my voice, my process. Still fighting that itch to edit mid-sentence like a control freak. But I’ve stopped calling it failure. It’s just the messy middle. And honestly, everyone romanticizes the beginning and the ending — no one talks about the slog in between.

    Changing habits and environments hasn’t been easy either. I’ve to make time for my hobby, and change my entire routine to manage my job and writing. I’ve had to build boundaries around my energy. Say no to things that drain me, make space for things that fill me. That’s not discipline; that’s survival. And if I want to write the way I dream of, I can’t keep pouring from an empty cup ☕.

    The hardest part? Believing that my words are worth reading. That’s it. Not the grammar, not the structure — the belief. Because when you write without validation, it’s like shouting into a storm. You have to be your own echo until someone else hears it.

    And here’s the thing — I don’t just want to write. I want to matter. I want to be remembered the way Austen is — not for her fame, but for her precision. Her truth. The quiet confidence that comes from knowing exactly who she was and writing anyway, even when the world wasn’t ready. That’s what I want. Not approval — impact.

    So, no, I’m not there yet. But I’m not quitting either. My hardest personal goal is still in motion, one word at a time. Maybe one day someone will read this and think, “Damn, she really did it.” Until then, I’ll keep showing up — messy bun, caffeine buzz, and all ✍️✨.

    Because even if no one’s reading yet, I am. And that’s enough for now.

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