Before I Move On...

From 2025 (and more)

As we move on from 2025, I want to say Thank you. I deeply appreciate people reading my words, in my memoir, here, on Instagram, anywhere. Also, I’m moving, literally, from my apartment. So I’m sitting here surrounded by the chaos of when you clean out a closet and are in that stage of everything strewn about, except it’s my whole place. Like a tornado came through. More on my move in a subsequent post.

Overall, I’m glad to be moving. (See above).

I’m also about to start recording the audio for my book, finally. It will involve more than two weeks of full days in a studio. The next few weeks will be… a lot.

My future is still in the air. I’m still here for it. Quietly working on things. Also on myself.

It’s been too long since I last posted. I know. There’s something I need to get over and I’m not sure how to articulate it. Maybe it’s just myself. [loopy-face emoji—kinda wish we had emojis in Substack]. Recently I posted “8 Shifts That Healed My Sleep Issues” because I wanted to post something useful. However, something about it felt off. In two ways. One is that it felt like trying to prove my worth… I’m useful! There’s value here. Which is probably why I resist these kinds of posts, or feel funny about this entire platform. The second way is that it was full of links, each one genuine, but then it oozes as if I’m trying to sell something. Like I just want the 3 cents of Amazon commission, as if I’m trying to get something from you, the reader, even while offering advice on what has truly helped me with an important issue. The queasiness I felt about that post (yes, I’m likely too sensitive) is also why I feel so much discomfort on social media, and self-promotion in general. Something about it feels off with my soul.

I’m glad if I can convey useful information, but what I actually like to write is the kind of stuff I’m scribbling in my journals. The stuff that makes my family cringe, because it’s like emotionally inviting everyone into the shower. Also, it feels self-indulgent. Does anyone care what I’m grappling with? Do my words matter? Anyone else cursed with the fun tendency to overthink everything?

What I like about Instagram and here is connection. Not as a substitute for in-person connection, but just… connection. For example, I think if I didn’t have Instagram this past year to show me that others out there were simultaneously grappling with bizarre symptoms—the kind attributable to what we may call awakening, or barreling through a dark night (year/years) of the soul—then I’d have worried I belonged in a loony bin. Instead, I felt reassured, validated, and shepherded through.

My Audiobook: I’m going to have to strike a balance between my natural way of reading and the direction to emote more. Anyone who’s followed my Instagram knows I’m not known for posing with a toothy smile, and the few reels I’ve made are usually awkwardly deadpan. I’m not that way in real life—in person. Or, not quite that much. But to a camera? Yes. So, if I overact in reading my book into a microphone it will probably come through as inauthentic. But also, I don’t want it to sound flat. This will be my challenge, to push myself out of my comfort zone, but not too much.

I took some photos of my apartment before starting to pull it apart, because I want to write a post about all the feels about leaving this particular home—how I got here and why I’m leaving it.

Anyway. I love you all. Thank you for being here. If 2025 felt emotionally chaotic, wildly uncomfortable, and strange, I’m with you. It’s disorienting to become more aware. All of it quite fittingly in ways that words can’t quite convey.

Wishing everyone a warm, safe, however-you-want-it-to-be new year’s eve. I’ll be tucked into flannel sheets with a book by ~ 10pm. :)

As always, full of optimism,

Love,

Sarma