Detaching from external validation and returning to your intrinsic worth
It was a quiet winter morning, the kind where breath turns visible and thoughts arrive uninvited. I found myself sorting through an old storage box—yellowed certificates, commendation letters, ID cards from past designations, a long-expired passport, and an engraved trophy from a corporate milestone long forgotten by everyone but me.
Holding that trophy, I chuckled. I remembered the speech I had given that day. The applause. The way I had rehearsed every word to sound effortlessly spontaneous. But what I remembered more vividly was the hollow that followed and that subtle emptiness that clung on.
That trophy, I realized, had become a mirror I once relied on. It had reflected a version of me that felt powerful, respected, seen. But it was only that—a reflection. And like most mirrors shaped by the world, it captured the surface and missed the soul.
We are told that mirrors don’t lie. But they do—especially the ones shaped by the world. They reflect only the surface: titles, roles, paychecks, social media applause. They tell us who we appear to be, not who we are. And somewhere between promotions and praises, between obligations and optics, we start mistaking our reflection for our essence.
It happens slowly. You’re ten and someone says you’re clever. You’re twenty and someone says you’re not enough. You’re thirty and your LinkedIn headline gets more attention than your silence ever did. By the time you pause to ask who you truly are, the mirrors around you have already answered for you.
But here’s the gentle truth: you existed before any of these reflections. Before you were “someone’s boss” or “someone’s failure.” Before the metrics and medals. Before the comparison. You were whole. You were already worthy. And you still are.
Some mirrors must be broken—not out of anger, but liberation. Not because you reject who you were, but because you are ready to remember who you are.
So today, perhaps you can sit with a different kind of reflection—the one that comes not from a screen, a review, or a résumé—but from silence. From breath. From that still, unmoved center that has nothing to prove and no image to maintain.
And maybe, just maybe, you’ll realize:
The mirror was never the truth. You were.
Letters for the Inner Journey by Pushkar
Whisper back, if the letter spoke to you.