The Beauty of Uncompeting

The ability to make every story about yourself is… remarkable.
Even more remarkable is when the same people call it empathy or emotional intelligence.

You say you caught a cold. They tell you they were hospitalised.
You mention you had a long day. They explain why theirs was longer.
You say you’re tired. They haven’t slept in days.

Somewhere, quietly, every dialogue becomes a competition.

There’s a concept called grandstanding. It’s when we turn every interaction into a stage. Not necessarily out of arrogance, but out of habit. A need to stay visible and be central in the frame.

Image captured by me!

Standing in front of this little shop window during a solo trip, I realised how peaceful it felt when nothing was competing.

No flowers trying to outshine each other. Bicycle is not asking for applause.
No urgency to prove anything because everything was pretty amazing in its own place.

Every story doesn’t need escalation, and every moment doesn’t need comparison, especially when people look up to you for advice.

Maybe it’s enough to listen without comparing.
To acknowledge without upgrading.
To let someone else have the moment.
We don’t always have to bring the spotlight back to ourselves.

It’s okay to let someone else’s sentence finish without adding our own headline.

And sometimes, a solo walk and a beautiful shop window are enough to remind you of that.

Availability Isn’t Performance (After Coffee)

“What time works best for you?” And out of habit – or maybe, the way I have been groomed over the years, I said, “Anytime, just tell me when.”

They looked at me and said something simple but surprising:

They looked at me and said something simple but surprising:

“No. We don’t expect you to be available all the time! We care about your work-life balance, your potential and growth, and want you to be at your best when you work for us, and you feel it is convenient.”

This was a conversation that happened recently, and I realised that most of us no longer think in terms of time slots.

We work around the clock responding, replying, attending… without ever asking ourselves when we actually perform our best.

Yet, research tells us that when we work matters far more than we realise.

A 2025 study on productivity rhythms found that less than 30% of people perform their best between 9 AM and 5 PM, i.e., the traditional work window, and that cognitive performance peaks at varied times across individuals.

Some are sharpest early morning. Some in the afternoon. Some even at night.

In classrooms, too, students in early morning sessions are significantly more likely to report lower attention and engagement compared to mid-morning or early afternoon.

By 5 PM, everyone has attention fatigue… not from lack of interest, but from simply being awake for too long.

That doesn’t mean early morning or late evening is “bad.” It means human focus isn’t one-size-fits-all.

It’s the same with professional roles.

A strategist might have their sharpest ideas between 11–2.

A designer may find flow after lunch.

A writer might produce their best lines late night.

Psychologists call this variability chronotypes, the natural cognitive rhythms that influence how our attention, creativity, and decision-making fluctuate throughout the day.

What’s interesting is how workplace thinking is shifting.

Instead of asking someone to be available round the clock, HR managers are now asking “When do you do your best work? We are okay with flexibility and we care for your work life balance.”

Because availability doesn’t equal performance.

How often we keep working without ever examining when we work effectively? Not because we can’t choose, but because no one ever asked us.

If you could schedule your work only when you actually needed to present, meet, teach, or submit some document, and you could choose the day and time (8–11 am, 11–2 pm, 2–5 pm, or 5–8 pm), which window would you pick?

After morning coffee, of course.

This New Year, Be Your Own Little Superhero

January 1 always arrives with a lot of noise. So I am writing this on January 2. In peace.

Peace that happens in small, almost invisible ways.
That lies in the courage to pause.
That focuses on choosing the self without guilt.
That allows unlearning and letting go of what no longer fits.

The past year has probably asked more of us than we planned for.
It taught us patience the hard way.
It showed us who stayed, who valued, who cared, who grew, and who quietly drifted away.
And it reminded us that strength, sometimes, is simply staying kind and humble in a world that keeps rushing.

Last year was a rollercoaster for me as well.
I’m thankful for those who believed in me and walked alongside me.

And also for the situations that tested my trust, consistency, and dedication, and quietly pushed me toward clarity and courage.

So, if 2025 gave you clarity – great.
If it gave you lessons, you’ve handled them.
If it gave you a pause – maybe we all need them once in a while.

Here’s to a year of becoming – not proving anymore, and not waiting anymore.
To progress that feels honest.
To work that matters.
To people who feel like home.

An image of a cute little car in Prague, Czech Republic, captured by me.

Just go vroom and be your own tiny little superhero.
No matter what.
Happy New Year.