How Can I Make Sure I Never Have to Come Back to India?

FnAQ: I really want to settle abroad. I'm willing to study, change careers, take another course, or do whatever is necessary to get a PR. I’m scared that if my visa doesn’t work out, I'll have to return to India. How do I make sure I can stay abroad permanently?

Short answer: You can't guarantee that you will stay abroad. And honestly, you shouldn't make that your definition of success. Wanting to live in another country is completely valid. Building a career abroad, applying for permanent residency, learning a new culture and creating a life somewhere else can be wonderful experiences. The concern begins when staying abroad becomes more important than the life you are actually trying to build.

Longer answer: I see variations of this question quite often. Which country has the easiest PR? Which course gives me the best chance of staying abroad? What job should I take to get sponsorship? What happens if my visa expires? Should I take another degree because it will give me more time? How do I make sure I don't have to come back to India?

And sometimes, underneath all these questions, there seems to be another one that no one wants to say out loud, "What if coming back means I wasn't successful?" That is the question I would want you to spend some time with.

Because there is nothing inherently more successful about living in another country.

You may genuinely want the opportunities, independence, lifestyle or experiences that come with living abroad. You may have found a community there. You may love the work you are doing. You may simply feel that another country suits the person you are becoming.

Wonderful. Go build that life. But please make sure you are building a life, rather than building a visa. What does success mean to you? This is where I think many young people, not just you, need to pause.

Imagine that Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, LinkedIn, WhatsApp, etc. disappeared tomorrow. Nobody could see where you lived. Nobody knew your salary. Nobody knew whether you had PR. Nobody knew whether you lived in Mumbai, Melbourne, London, Toronto or Berlin.

What would you want your life to contain?

Good work? Financial independence? Love? Friendship? Family? Freedom? Adventure? A sense of belonging? Time to yourself? Creative work? Physical wellbeing? Perhaps something completely different.

Now imagine having those things in India. Would you still feel that you had failed?

And then imagine having a foreign passport, a good salary and a beautiful apartment while feeling lonely, anxious about your immigration status, exhausted by your job and disconnected from the people you love.

Would that automatically be success?

This is why I think defining success for yourself matters so much. Social media has become very good at showing us where people live and what they have acquired. It tells us much less about how their lives actually feel. There is nothing wrong with wanting to stay abroad. Let me be very clear about this.

I am not suggesting that people should stop pursuing migration. If you want to live abroad, research your options. Understand immigration laws. Build the skills employers actually need. Understand the financial cost. Talk to people who have lived there for years, not only people who have just arrived. Understand what happens if your first plan doesn't work.

And then make an informed decision.

What concerns me is the desperation. "I will do anything to stay." That sentence deserves some examination. Anything? Including taking on enormous debt? Staying in a career you hate? Remaining in a relationship because your immigration status depends on it? Spending years collecting qualifications you don't actually want? Living in constant anxiety because returning feels like humiliation?

At what point does the dream stop serving you? What if you had a Plan B? I sometimes think we underestimate how liberating a backup plan can be. What if you said:

Plan A: I build a life abroad.

Plan B: If that doesn't work, I return to India and build something here.

Plan C: I explore another country.

Plan D: I change my career direction.

Suddenly, the visa decision isn't holding your entire identity hostage.

You can try. You can fail. You can change your mind. You can discover that the place you desperately wanted to live in isn't actually where you want to spend the next twenty years. And you can still have a life. A Plan B isn't an admission that Plan A will fail. It is a reminder that your life is bigger than Plan A. And what if you do have to come back? This may be the hardest question.

What will people say? What will relatives think? What will you tell your friends? What will happen to your career? Perhaps some people will judge you. People judge almost everything. But here's the thing you miss, you don't have to organize your life around avoiding their judgement.

Coming back doesn't erase the years you spent abroad. You still carry the experience, skills, friendships, perspectives and memories you gained. You may return with a completely different understanding of yourself. And perhaps you may even discover that the life you build next is better suited to who you have become.

So, should you try to stay? Yes, if that is what you genuinely want. But while you're trying, please live. Don't spend five years treating your current life as a waiting room for PR.

Create memories that have nothing to do with your immigration status. And keep asking yourself, "If I knew today that I might have to leave this country someday, would I still want to live this life while I am here?"

If the answer is yes, you may be building something meaningful. If the answer is no, perhaps the visa isn't the only thing that needs your attention. Your passport can determine where you are legally allowed to live. It doesn't get to decide whether you are living.

Hope this helps! 

Lots of love!  

When Your Child Grows Up, Your Parenting Must Grow Too

 

The last stage of parenting can be one of the hardest to adjust to. Your child has grown up. They have their own life, their own choices, their own relationships, and their own boundaries.

And sometimes, as a parent, you can find yourself wondering when the relationship changed. You may feel hurt, confused, or left out. You may wonder why your child doesn't call as often, share as much, or seem to not need you in the way they once did.

It is easy to experience that distance as rejection.

Sometimes, though, an adult child is simply trying to create some emotional space for themselves. This can happen when old misunderstandings have never been addressed, or when familiar patterns of control, worry, advice, or expectation continue into adulthood.

Parenting an adult child asks us to recognize that the relationship has changed. Your child is now an adult. They make their own decisions, live with their consequences, and decide what kind of life they want to build. Your role as a parent changes with that.

You listen. You share your experience when it is wanted. You respect their choices, even when you would have chosen differently. You learn to trust the person your child has become. And you begin to build a relationship between two adults.

Some parents read this part of the book simply because they want to understand this stage better. Others come to it because they already feel a distance with their child and don't know how to bridge it. This part does not ask parents to blame themselves. It asks them to become curious.

You may begin to understand that your adult child stepped away because they needed room to breathe. You may recognize moments from the past when your fear came across as control, when your concern felt like pressure, or when your expectations became difficult for your child to carry.

These realizations can be painful. They can also open a door. A relationship can begin to change when we become willing to listen to what the other person has experienced, even when their experience is difficult for us to hear.

Repair can begin with a conversation. Sometimes it begins with an apology. Sometimes it begins with simply saying, "I want to understand. Can you tell me what this has been like for you?" Rebuilding trust takes time. Your adult child may need time too.

You cannot decide how quickly they should forgive, how much they should share, or when they should feel close again. You can however, choose how you show up now. It is not too late to repair a relationship with your adult child.

The relationship may never look exactly as it did when they were young. It isn't supposed to either. They have grown. And your parenting needs to grow with them. 

This part of the book is for parents who want to rebuild trust with their adult children. For parents willing to listen, reflect, and make room for a new kind of relationship. And for anyone who still hopes that, even after years of hurt or distance, there can be a way back to genuine connection.

Get your copy here.  

Five Minutes, One Blender and a Little Protein Magic

 

The kid has to run out for his workout.

You have serious chocolate cravings.

You're in the middle of a meeting and the only break you can negotiate is a quick bio break.

Your workout was heavier than expected and your body is very clearly asking for protein.

And then there are the senior citizens at home, making fun of your protein obsession while quietly drinking the very same shake without realizing that they've just had a decent little protein boost themselves.

Yes.

I have experienced these scenarios more times than I would like to admit. 😂

Which is exactly why this shake exists. It takes about five minutes. Everything goes into a blender. Blend. Pour. Done. No elaborate preparation. No chopping. No cooking. No ten different containers sitting on the kitchen counter waiting to be washed.

And before you look at the recipe and wonder why I have actually measured everything out, let me confess something. You don't need to. I don't. I usually eyeball the whole thing. The measurements are mostly here because I am a writer and apparently I cannot give you a recipe without making it look organized. Professional hazard. 😂

Once you know the proportions you like, you can simply throw everything into the blender and adjust it to your mood. More cocoa if you want it chocolatey. A little more almond milk if you like it thinner. A little less water if you want it richer. This one has become a personal favorite because the protein powder gives the shake a lovely smooth texture.

And then I discovered something even better. It doesn't have to stay cold. Because the Mille protein powder I use is heat stable, I can turn the exact same blended mixture into a warm, creamy hot chocolate. Just pour the blended mixture into a saucepan and heat it gently.

And there you have it. Your five-minute protein shake has now become a warm chocolate drink. Of course, that adds another five minutes. But sometimes five extra minutes are worth it. Especially when the weather is cooler, you're craving chocolate and your body still wants that protein.

I love recipes like this because they don't require me to organize my life before I can feed myself. They fit into the gaps. Between meetings. Before a workout. After a workout. Before the kid runs out the door. Or even on those days when you open the refrigerator, stare at it for ten seconds and realize you have absolutely no interest in cooking anything.

If you make it, tell me how you found it.

And if you end up serving it to someone who claims they don't understand this whole “protein obsession”... Please tell me whether they noticed. 😂

Products I used that are available on amazon:

Mille Yeast Protein 

Hershey's Cocoa Powder 

Re-Adulting: Becoming the Adult You Can Own

 

There is something about adulthood that we don't talk about enough. We assume that once someone turns eighteen, gets a job, earns money, gets married, has children, or lives independently, they have automatically become an adult.

But adulthood isn't a milestone. It is a capacity. The capacity to take responsibility for yourself, your choices, your relationships, your work, your home, your emotions, your finances, and eventually, your impact on the people around you.

And this is where I think we need a different lens for looking at adults. Because I have observed two very different kinds of adults who can both look "functional" from the outside.

The first are the old souls. They grew up too early. They learned to manage themselves, manage others, anticipate problems, suppress their needs, become responsible, and sometimes even become the emotional adult in the family long before they were ready.

They may enter adulthood carrying an extraordinary amount of competence. They know how to survive. They know how to work. They know how to take care of people. They know how to hold everything together. And yet, somewhere underneath all that competence is often a person who never really got to be young.

Their challenge in adulthood is not necessarily learning responsibility. It is learning that they don't have to carry everyone's responsibility anymore. They may need to re-learn rest, play, receiving, asking for help, setting boundaries, and allowing someone else to take care of something without feeling guilty.

Sometimes, the old soul needs to retire from the role they were groomed to perform. Because being exceptionally responsible is not the same as being free.

And then there is another kind of adult I increasingly notice.

The person who grew older without necessarily growing up. They may be twenty-five, thirty-five, forty-five, or even older and still have significant gaps in basic self-sufficiency. They may be exceptionally good at one thing.

They may be brilliant at their job. They may earn very well. They may be successful, respected, highly educated, or professionally accomplished. And yet they cannot manage basic things at home. They don't know how to feed themselves. They cannot maintain a routine. They don't manage their belongings. They don't know how to handle basic household responsibilities. 

They rely on a partner, parent, sibling, domestic worker, or someone else to keep everyday life functioning. And sometimes this gets excused with, "But I'm very good at my work."

That is precisely the point. Being able to do one thing exceptionally well does not cancel out an inability or unwillingness to participate in the rest of the adult life.

The reverse is equally true. Someone may be exceptionally good at managing a home. They may cook beautifully, maintain the household, raise children, organize everything, and keep everyone's life running.

But if they repeatedly cannot hold a job, manage professional commitments, deal with accountability, earn or contribute financially when they are capable of doing so, or build the skills necessary for economic independence, that is also a serious gap in adult functioning.

I feel strongly about this because we have normalized both extremes. We excuse the person who says, "I earn the money. That's enough." And we excuse the person who says, "I take care of the home. That's enough."

Neither is automatically enough. A household is a shared ecosystem. So is adulthood. You don't get to use competence in one domain as a permanent exemption from responsibility in another. This is where the idea of weaponized incompetence becomes important.

Genuine incompetence is simply not knowing how to do something. You can learn. Weaponized incompetence is when "I don't know how" becomes a convenient reason for someone else to keep doing it. Over time, the pattern becomes, "I don't know how." "You do it better." "You handle this." "I'm too busy." "That's your thing."

And eventually, someone else is carrying an adult who has stopped developing the capacity to carry themselves.

Sometimes that dependence is created by childhood conditioning. Sometimes it is reinforced by a partner who keeps rescuing. Sometimes it is simply convenient. But whatever the origin, there comes a point where explanation cannot substitute for responsibility.

Because the people who currently compensate for your gaps may not always be there. A parent ages. A partner gets tired. A sibling moves away. A friend stops rescuing. Someone dies. And suddenly, the person who appeared perfectly functional can discover that much of their life was being held together by someone else.

That can be devastating. But there is another danger. When dependency is repeatedly protected, the person carrying it can eventually become resentful. And the person being carried can become entitled. Then dependence can turn into manipulation. Helplessness can become control. Incompetence can become a strategy.

And relationships that once provided support can slowly become relationships built around exploitation, guilt, resentment, or emotional coercion. This is how dysfunction gets carried forward. One generation learns it. The next generation accommodates it. And eventually someone else is expected to absorb it.

That is why adulthood deserves a more honest definition. You don't have to be perfect at everything. You don't have to earn the same amount as your partner. You don't have to love housework. You don't have to build a career. You don't have to be naturally organized. You don't even have to know how to do everything today.

But you do need to be willing to learn what adulthood requires of you. You need enough self-sufficiency to survive without making another person responsible for your basic functioning. You need enough flexibility to contribute beyond the things you happen to be good at. You need enough humility to recognize your gaps. And enough integrity to work on them.

Because adulthood is not about proving that you can do everything. It is about becoming someone who can own their share of life. And perhaps this is where we need to rethink what it means to "grow up."

Some of us need to re-parent ourselves because we never received the safety, guidance, or permission to develop naturally. Some of us need to re-adult ourselves because we learned responsibility too early in some areas and avoided it in others. Some need to learn how to stop carrying everyone. Others need to learn how to stop making everyone carry them. And some of us need to do both.

This is why I believe adulthood can be revisited. You can return to the skills you missed. You can question the roles you inherited. You can learn what you were never taught. You can become more capable without becoming harder. You can become more independent without becoming emotionally isolated. You can learn to receive without becoming dependent. You can learn to contribute without becoming self-sacrificing.

And most importantly, you can stop defining yourself by the one thing you happen to do well. Because a successful career does not compensate for an inability to participate in life. And a well-managed home does not compensate for an inability to sustain yourself outside it.

Both are forms of imbalance. The goal is not to become useful to everyone. The goal is to become capable enough that you are not constantly being used by everyone. And it is not to become so independent that you need nobody. It is to become interdependent enough to contribute, receive, ask, support, and stand on your own feet without making someone else responsible for your existence.

That is the adulthood I believe we should be aiming for. Not the adulthood we were told to perform. The adulthood we can actually own. 

I build The Re-Adulting Framework™to explore exactly this. 

Re-Adulting™ is a process of looking honestly at the adult you became, the roles you were given, the capacities you developed, and the capacities you never had the opportunity or willingness to develop.

It helps you identify where you became responsible too early. Where you still expect others to carry you. Where competence has become an identity or an excuse. Where your dependence has become unfair to the people around you. Where your independence has become isolation. What basic adult capacities need to be developed. What inherited roles need to be released. And what kind of adult you actually want to become.

The goal isn't to turn you into someone who can do everything. It is to transform you into someone you can own up to. Someone you can look at honestly and say, "I may still have things to learn. I may not have got everything right. But I carry my share. I don't need to exploit someone else's love to remain incapable. And I don't need to exploit myself to remain useful."

That, to me, is growing up.The most important question you should be able to answer without a single doubt is, "Am I becoming the kind of adult I would be proud to be?"

When Parenting Shows You Parts of Yourself You Forgot

 

Raising a child is not just about teaching them values or correcting their behavior. It is also about understanding yourself through the way you respond to them.

Children can bring out emotions in parents that feel unexpected such as irritation, sadness, fear, defensiveness, or even helplessness. These feelings don't necessarily appear because the child is doing something wrong. Sometimes, their behavior activates something familiar within us. It could be an experience, belief, or emotional pattern from our own childhood that was never fully understood or resolved.

A child talking back may activate memories of never being allowed to question an adult. A child's withdrawal may trigger a fear of rejection. Their emotional outburst may bring up feelings we were once taught to suppress. This is not a parenting failure. It is an opportunity to become more aware.

Many parents apologize when they lose patience. An apology is important, but repair goes further. Children learn emotional safety when parents return after conflict, acknowledge what happened, listen, take responsibility for their part, and reconnect.

Repair teaches children that conflict does not have to mean disconnection. It teaches accountability, trust, and the possibility of finding your way back to each other. Part 2 of the book helps parents understand why certain behaviors affect them more deeply than others. It offers particular clarity for parents raising pre-teens and teenagers, when arguments, boundary-testing, and the child's growing need for independence can change the relationship.

It explains how to pause, how to listen, and how to reconnect after difficult moments. Tuning in to your child's need does not need perfection. All it needs is awareness and the ability to notice what your child may be feeling. Once that happens, it is possible to respond with presence rather than immediately reacting from your own emotional history.

Your child is growing every day. And sometimes, through raising them, you discover parts of yourself you had forgotten.

If you want to build a home where communication feels safe and where your child can express themselves without fear, this part of the book will guide you towards understanding both your child and yourself a little better.

To grab a copy click here.

My Son Came Out as Gay Three Years Ago. Now He Wants to Marry His Partner, and I'm Struggling to Accept It. What Do I Do?

FnAQ - My son came out to me as gay three years ago. Initially I was in shock. I felt like how could this happen to me. What did I do wrong and what can I do to correct it. I did not say this to him, but inside it kept paining. He lives in another country so the distances helped. Now he says he wants to get married to his boyfriend of two years. I don't know what to do. Had he been normal, I would have had big fat wedding like it happens in our community. But now I am planning to visit along with my wife and not mention anything to anyone here. But all of this is hurting me a lot! What do I do?

Short answer: Your son hasn't done anything wrong. What you're struggling with is the gap between the expectations you had for his life and the reality he has shared with you. That gap deserves compassion, not guilt. But your son's authenticity also deserves your love and acceptance.

Long answer: First, I'd like to acknowledge how honest your question is. Many parents have thoughts like these when their child first comes out, but very few are willing to say them out loud. The fact that you're asking what to do tells me that, beneath your confusion, you want to find a way forward.

Let me begin with something important. There is nothing abnormal about being gay. Sexual orientation is not something a parent causes, nor is it something that needs to be corrected. Your son did not become a different person the day he came out to you. He simply trusted you enough to share a part of himself that had always been there.

What you're grieving is not your son. You're grieving the future you had imagined for him. That is a real experience, and many parents go through it. The key is to recognize that your grief belongs to your expectations, not to your child's identity.

You mentioned that the distance between you has helped. I wonder if what the distance has really done is postpone a conversation your heart has been trying to have with itself for the last three years.

Now your son is asking you to witness one of the happiest moments of his life. The question before you is no longer whether he is gay. The question is whether he will experience his parents standing beside him as he begins this new chapter.

You also mentioned worrying about what people in your community might think. That is understandable. Social expectations can be incredibly powerful. But it's worth asking yourself this, "Years from now, which regret would be harder to live with? That some people judged you or that your son felt he had to celebrate one of the most important days of his life without feeling fully accepted by his parents?"

Parents often spend years teaching their children to be honest, kind, and authentic. Sometimes life asks parents to practice those same values themselves. If you're finding acceptance difficult, you don't have to navigate it alone.

Connecting with other parents who have walked this journey can be incredibly reassuring. Hearing their stories often helps replace fear with understanding. If you're in India, you may find support through Sweekar – The Rainbow Parents, a parent support group that helps families understand, accept, and support their LGBTQIA+ children. Many parents have found comfort in speaking with others who once had similar questions and concerns.

Your son has already shown great courage by choosing authenticity. Perhaps this is your opportunity to show him that your love is bigger than your fear.

I hope this helps.

And I wish you and your family healing, understanding, and many joyful years together.

The Loneliness of Being Believed

Have you ever noticed something that feels quietly heartbreaking? I have. Far more often than not, the people sitting in therapy are the ones trying to understand what happened to them, while those who caused the harm may never question their own behavior.
 

Many survivors know the feeling of carrying the weight of healing while also carrying the weight of what was done to them. It's a particular kind of loneliness. The loneliness of trying to make sense of experiences that the people closest to you either deny, minimize, or simply cannot understand.

Survivors of complex trauma know what it feels like to feel profoundly alone in a house full of people who share your name, your history, and even your DNA. Sometimes the deepest wound isn't the traumatic experience itself.

It's being told it wasn't that bad. It's being asked to "move on." It's being told to forgive before you've even been allowed to grieve. It's living in a world that often understands the symptoms of trauma far better than it understands the conditions that created them.

One of the conversations I believe we need to have more openly is about family. Family can be our greatest source of love and belonging. It can also be the place where our deepest wounds are formed.

When someone chooses to distance themselves from a relationship that has consistently harmed them, reminding them that "they're still family" rarely helps. What they often need isn't another reminder of shared DNA. They need safety and respect. They need relationships where love doesn't come at the cost of their well-being.

I believe therapy is one of the greatest investments we can make in our mental and emotional health. But healing cannot stop at learning to tolerate pain. Whenever possible, it also means understanding where that pain came from.

It means recognizing unhealthy patterns. Naming dysfunction. Refusing to confuse loyalty with self abandonment. Understanding that victim blaming is itself another form of harm. The more willing we are, as individuals and as a society, to acknowledge these realities, the less space dysfunction has to quietly pass from one generation to the next.

This is why I write. For the people who have spent years wondering whether anyone else understands. For the people who have been told they were "too sensitive," "too difficult," or "the problem." For the people who became cycle breakers, even when it meant standing alone.

I see you. I know the loneliness that often comes with choosing a healthier path than the one you inherited. My hope is to build a space where you are not only seen, but also understood. A space where healing is met with compassion, where difficult conversations are welcomed, and where rebuilding your life becomes possible, one choice at a time.

If this resonated, books mentioned below might help in your healing journey! 

Conscious Uncoupling: 5 Steps to Living Happily Even After

What Happened to You? 

Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents