"You can be both a masterpiece and a work in progress at the same time." - Sophia Bush
This piece was born on a day when nothing seemed to go right, and yet, something important fell into place. It’s about those moments when you feel grateful for what you have but still ache for what could be. When you know how far you’ve come, but can’t ignore how far you want to go.
In life, some days just feel like too much. You know, the kind where everything seems to be happening at once. And not the good kind of everything. It’s like the universe suddenly decides to pile all the bad things in one single day. And you’re just supposed to deal with it. Like always.
It was one of those days for me.
Things at work didn’t go well. There were issues in our rental apartment, and because of that, I couldn’t even focus properly. There were constant interruptions, small things that added up and started to feel big. By the end of the workday, I was already drained. And then, to make things more fun, I had to step out for some errands.
It was raining heavily. The kind of rain that soaks your shoes and your spirit. And in my town, the roads are less like roads and more like patches of ground scattered between potholes.
Since it was getting dark and the weather was awful, my father decided to come along with me. I was already frustrated, and I knew that the ride to the market would only make things worse. The scooter we have is more than ten years old, and that day, its age felt louder than usual. The tires kept slipping on the wet road, and it made that annoying screeching sound every time I braked.
In that moment, everything spilt out.
Out of sheer irritation, I said to my father, “Why don’t we have a new scooter? It’s so annoying! I hate that we always have to manage like this.”
He didn’t react right away. Then, calmly, he said, “At least we have a scooter. Imagine those who don’t. Imagine people walking on these same roads, in this same weather, with no vehicle to help them. Don’t you think they’d value this old scooter more than anything?”
His words hit me hard. I instantly apologised. I knew I was wrong. I knew I was just venting, but it didn’t make it okay. I took it out on him when he was only trying to help. And I reminded myself to be grateful. Truly grateful for what we have, for what we’re able to afford, for what carries us forward, even if imperfectly.
But then, another thought came to me. Quietly, and with a little bit of guilt:
Does being grateful mean I should be okay with everything as it is?
Does it mean I shouldn’t wish for more?
Does it mean I should just stay where I am because someone else has less?
If that’s the case, does it mean we’ll never get a new home? Or a scooter that doesn’t slip and screech? Does it mean I can’t dream or try just because we already have more than many others?
And that’s when I realised something really important: Gratitude doesn’t mean giving up on growth (It was something that I used to console myself, to make myself at peace with myself).
I am thankful for what we have. I truly am.
But I also want more. Not out of greed, but out of belief.
I believe that I deserve better.
I believe that I can earn better with the intellect, talent, and purpose that I hold inside me.
This piece, this little story, is just a reflection of that.
And this story also made me realise that many people are made to believe that if we ask for more, more peace, more comfort, more softness in life, it means we aren’t being grateful. As if wanting something better is a betrayal of what we already have. Somewhere along the way, we’ve been conditioned to feel guilty for doing things for ourselves. Especially if you're someone who has spent a lifetime putting others first. This then becomes second nature. When it comes to spending on someone else, we don't even think twice. But for ourselves? We hesitate. We choose the cheapest option, we dismiss our wants as luxuries, and we convince ourselves we don’t need much to survive.
And sure, maybe we don’t need much to survive, but what about to live?
Most of us fall under the same category. We give, but we forget to receive. We care, but we forget to rest. We celebrate others, but don’t remember the last time we celebrated ourselves. Somewhere, this quiet guilt settles in our bones. The guilt of choosing ourselves.
But with time, and with age, something begins to shift. We realise that we’ve been waiting for someone else to permit us. Permission to rest, to want, to demand joy. But no one is coming to do that for us. We have to do it ourselves. We have to slowly unlearn the guilt of doing something just because it makes us feel good. We have to let ourselves buy the slightly more expensive thing, just because we like it. We have to allow ourselves to take up space, not just in others’ lives, but in our own.
It’s okay to want more. It’s okay to be a little selfish sometimes.
Because honestly, if we never ask for more, how will we ever grow into the person we are meant to become?
The only thing we must carry with us while asking for more is awareness. Awareness that our desires shouldn’t come at the cost of someone else’s needs. That we don’t snatch, we don’t step over someone else’s dreams to reach ours. We just take what’s ours, with grace. With intention. With quiet pride.
“Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” - Audre Lorde
And that’s how I dealt with my inner battle of thoughts, and I realised;
I can be kind and still want more.
I can be grateful and still dream of better.
And I, too, deserve the life I often try to create for others.
Being grateful and seeking more, they’re not opposites. They can walk hand in hand. You can have your feet planted in the present and your eyes looking toward the future. You can love your now, and still reach for your next.
“The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.” - Maria Rike
Maybe the life we’re meant to live is not at the extremes, but somewhere gently in between; between enough and more, where gratitude and growth quietly hold hands.