Life doesn’t always shout lessons to you. Sometimes, it whispers. And my path to self-discovery was not a neat journal entry or calm yoga retreat. It was ugly crying till 2 AM for losing people I thought would stay in my life forever. It was learning to unlearn everything I believed about myself and finding, in the rubble, something softer, truer, and stronger.
These 12 lessons are my stitched-up truths, laced with a little humor, a lot of feeling, and the scars that come from becoming your own person.
1. Success without soul is incomplete success
The mistake I made after becoming successful is that I started hoarding stuff instead of spending to thrive. I thought I had to constantly prove to myself that I had made it. More clothes, more skincare, more… everything. One moment that still sticks with me: I found myself staring blankly at an entire shelf filled with bottles I’d collected, all inspired by a Pinterest moodboard of popular nail colors of 2024. And it still didn’t feel enough.
That night, I stumbled upon an article called ‘Seven Signs of Greed Syndrome’. I ticked every single box. Jealousy. Fear of losing what I had. Obsession with the next “goal.” I wasn’t successful. I was scared.
That was a turning point in my life. And it transformed me from a hoarder to a giver. Instead of just collecting stuff, I started giving too, be it money, time, or praise. I realised greed is a lie we tell ourselves when we don’t believe we’re already whole.
2. Arrogance nearly derailed my self-discovery journey
I was once dating a charming and magnetic guy, the kind of person who lit up every room he entered. At first, I mistook his confidence for depth. But slowly, the signs of an arrogant man began to show…He was too full of himself to show empathy to anyone around. He always needed to be the smartest in the room. My wins became threats, and conversations felt like competition.
And eventually, I started reflecting that too, just like a mirror. I was always trying to one-up him. Confrontations became brutal because no one was ready to accept their mistake. This was not real love because it was turning me into a version of myself I didn’t even want to become.
When I googled signs of an arrogant person, I cried. It described both of us. That night, I wrote him a letter. I told him I loved him, but I couldn’t lose myself again. We parted. And I learned: humility isn’t weakness. It’s what keeps us human.
3. Healing the wound beneath pettiness is the bravest work you’ll ever do
How to tell if a person is petty? Well, I looked in the mirror. Realising I was a petty person was way worse than dealing with petty people. I was passively aggressively liking my ex’s new girlfriend’s posts. I was writing “lol okay” instead of writing “Hey, I am hurt”.
I rolled my eyes at people’s happiness and called it sarcasm. I told myself I didn’t care, when in truth, I cared so deeply I couldn’t breathe. But instead of admitting the ache, I dressed it up in indifference. Yes, it’s always easy to be petty instead of being vulnerable. It gives you the illusion of control because you don’t have to say what you feel. But in the long run, pettiness isolates you, and I learnt it the hard way.
Self-discovery taught me this: pettiness is pain in disguise. And once you name the pain, the pettiness begins to lose its power. I eventually started being honest with myself and with others. For example, I started saying “I am feeling rejected” or “I am feeling like I am not enough”. And the pettiness began to lose its power. It couldn’t survive where truth lived. After all, healing begins the moment you stop trying to win and start trying to understand.
4. The power of crying over sad fictional deaths
I used to feel ashamed about crying over deaths of people who are not even real. How could a made-up world undo me like that? But then, I realised something gentle and life-changing: those sad fictional deaths actually taught me how to feel, especially when I was too numb to process my own grief.
Losing Dobby. Losing Augustus Waters. Losing Leslie from Bridge to Terabithia. Those fictional goodbyes helped me process real ones; the friendships that drifted, the versions of me I outgrew.
So, grief (even if it’s for fiction) isn’t fake. It stretches our capacity to love, to lose, and to survive. It reminds you that having a soft heart in a hard world is not weakness; it’s wisdom. Some of the most sacred goodbyes I’ve ever said were to people who never existed. But the pain was real. And so was the healing.
5. Self-discovery means realising not all friends are soulmates
I used to romanticize friendships. From my childhood bestie to my inseparable college roommate, I genuinely thought that these people would stay in my life forever. But the sad truth is: Not every friend is meant to stay.
Some people are like bridges. They help you through a heartbreak, career crisis, or family fracture. But before you know it, they disappear. And no one prepares you for that kind of grief. The slow fade. The unanswered texts. The ache in your heart when you realise you’re no longer needed.
Losing them used to hurt. I took it too personally. I questioned not my worth and loyalty but also my ability to love without conditions. But, in the silence, I found myself again. I made room for people who were meant to walk the next part with me. Hence, just remember that your true soulmate will stay with you, no matter what, even when the weather changes.
6. Books saved me when therapy felt out of reach
Therapy is powerful; even life-changing. But it’s also expensive. So, when I couldn’t afford therapy, I found my refuge in books. They brought comfort and clarity to me. They even helped me make sense of the chaos in my mind.
In those quiet, painful moments of not knowing where to go next, I found a lifeline in books on taking control of your life. These weren’t just motivational fluff or ten-step blueprints. They were raw, revelatory, and grounding. They helped me take my power back, one page at a time.
Here are three that reshaped my relationship with myself:
- Untamed by Glennon Doyle: Made me question every “should” I had swallowed. It gave me permission to disappoint others in order to be true to myself.
- Atomic Habits by James Clear: Taught me that transformation isn’t dramatic. It’s microscopic. Change isn’t magic — it’s math, repeated daily.
- The Mountain Is You by Brianna Wiest: Helped me look at my self-sabotage with compassion, not shame. It hugged the messy parts of me I used to hide.
So, if you’re spiralling and feeling that you’re running on autopilot mode, just pick up a book. You can even pick up the best life lesson books for teens (like Tuesdays with Morrie and The Perks of Being a Wallflower). One, it will make you feel that you’re not alone and everyone around you is going through similar issues. Two, it’ll be your mirror, therapist, and map.
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7. There’s magic in being silly, even while doing serious inner work
Self-discovery can feel like emotional CrossFit. One minute you’re unearthing childhood wounds, the next you’re crying because someone forgot your birthday six years ago. It’s heavy. Sacred. Exhausting.
This is when your goofiness can actually save you. It makes you feel like you can finally exhale. So, I started dancing (not just cute, Instagramable steps) like a baby giraffe roller skates. I started putting glitter eye liner, just to make my seven-year old self feel seen. I even laughed at my ridiculous hiccup-sneeze that sounds like a small duck being startled.
The truth is, silliness is not the opposite of depth. It’s a doorway into it. When you allow yourself to be weird, playful, and utterly unpolished, you invite parts of yourself to the table that have been hiding in the dark. So go ahead. Wear socks that don’t match. Send yourself a Valentine’s card. Cry, laugh, then laugh while crying. Because even in the middle of deep, serious inner work, you’re allowed to be ridiculous.
8. Don’t let self-discovery turn into superiority
I fell into a trap: reading modern philosophy books everyone should read, then silently judging those who hadn’t. I became the person who said, “You really must read Camus.” I began to think I was better. I never said it out loud but would roll my eyes when anyone mispronounced Nietzsche. I used to drink overpriced coffee and pretended to sound “intellectual” when all I was doing was hiding my own fear of being unseen.
My biggest life lesson was that self-help doesn’t give you a superiority complex; it humbles you. It reminds you that the point of reading is not to climb above people, but to meet them where they are, with more compassion.
These days, I still love reading. But I share my favorite books not to impress, but to invite. Want a few that changed me?
- Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl: A reminder that even in the darkest suffering, we can choose how we respond.
- The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck by Mark Manson: Strips away the noise and hands you the uncomfortable, freeing truth: you don’t need to fix everything.
- Meditations by Marcus Aurelius: Stoic, soulful, surprisingly relevant in 2025. Like journaling with your wiser, grumpier inner self.
Now, if someone hasn’t read these, I don’t raise an eyebrow. I ask what they love to read. Because connection, not competition, is the point.
9. Forgiveness is the greatest form of self-respect
Forgiveness is not always about the other person. I used to believe it meant opening doors for people who hurt you. But I eventually realised that forgiveness is more about you and less about them. Forgiveness isn’t saying, “What you did was okay.” It’s saying, “I’m not carrying it anymore.” It’s about choosing your peace over your pain.
And so I forgave my younger self for:
- Staying too long in places that broke her.
- Loving people who made her feel small.
- Begging for crumbs and calling it a connection.
- Silencing herself just to be tolerated.
- Not knowing what she deserved or that she deserved anything at all.
At that point, I did the best I could with all that I knew. So there’s no point ruminating, blaming myself for it. I stopped punishing myself for the choices I made when I was in survival mode. And when I finally forgave my younger self, I didn’t become an entirely new person; I just stopped being at war with the old one. And in that space? I began again. Gently. Lovingly. Without shame.
10. Self-discovery isn’t linear: you’ll spiral, cry, and still be making progress
On some days, you’ll feel enlightened, patient, and glowing. But there will be some days when you send that passive-aggressive text, cry in a bathroom stall, or spiral about something your ex said three years ago. And that’s okay. You’re healing.
I have learned that suppressing negative thoughts just makes you feel unhappier. And accepting them is the real path to happiness. They say that you should feel all your feelings, and they are right! Healing is not a ladder where each rung takes you higher and farther from your past. It’s a spiral staircase.
You’ll revisit the same wounds, the same fears, the same insecurities, but from a slightly higher floor each time. A new angle. A deeper breath. A softer self. Just because the pain still stings doesn’t mean you haven’t grown. It means you’re human. And your humanity is not a flaw; it’s the proof you’re still in the dance of becoming. So yes, I still spiral. I still slip. But now I catch myself quicker. I apologize sooner. I speak more kindly to the mirror.
11. Prioritize your body and your mind like they’re your only home
I used to treat exercise as a punishment and meditation as a luxury. But, they’re non-negotiables! Lifting weights taught me I’m stronger than I feel. Meditating each morning reminded me I can breathe through chaos.
When I’m disconnected from myself, I don’t need more productivity. I need movement and stillness, in equal measure. I need to stretch the grief out of my shoulders. I need to walk, breathe, cry, sweat, and be still. That’s what self-respect looks like.
Because at the end of the day, your body and your mind are your only real home. Decorate them with care. Clean them with love. Return to them often. They’re not machines to be optimized; they’re sacred spaces you live in. Treat them like it.
12. Self-discovery lies in the art of surrender
Finally, here’s the last important life lesson that I learnt. I stopped controlling outcomes, people, and life. I used journal, manifest, plan, and obsess. But the greatest gift I ever gave myself was learning to let go. Do not give up. Let go.
Remember that there is a difference between giving up and letting go. The former is an act of despair, but the latter is an act of radical trust. Surrender isn’t a collapse. It’s an exhale. It’s the quiet courage of loosening your grip and opening your hands to the unknown. It’s trusting that what’s meant for you won’t need to be chased; it will meet you when you’re ready.
Now, I ask the universe, “Surprise me.” And it does. Not always how I want, but often exactly how I need. Self-discovery has shown me that surrender isn’t weakness; it’s the most courageous leap of faith you’ll ever take.
Final Words
In conclusion, this isn’t a how-to guide. It’s a love letter to the messy, magical process of becoming. I have met every version of myself, from the grieving one to the glowing one. And I’m still learning. Still unlearning. Still circling back to the same wounds with a softer heart.
Wherever you are on your self-discovery journey (raw, radiant, or somewhere in between), I hope you keep walking. Not to arrive at some perfect version of yourself. But to live more honestly. More wildly. More you. Because the goal was never to become someone else. It was to remember who you’ve been all along.
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