“The true horror of existence is not the fear of death, but the fear of life. It is the fear of waking up each day to face the same struggles, disappointments, and pain. It is the fear that nothing will ever change, that you are trapped in a cycle of suffering you cannot escape.”
—Albert Camus
I love this quote because I can relate to it so deeply. There was a time in my life when I felt lost, confined by my circumstances, and unable to fully enjoy the moment. I couldn’t see all the beautiful things life had already given me because I was consumed by the stress of what I didn’t have.
I remember longing for a child. It took nearly two years before I became pregnant, and during that time, I carried a deep sense of incompleteness. Other women around me were getting pregnant easily, and I couldn’t understand why it wasn’t happening for me. I convinced myself that once I had a child, everything would be complete—that it would fill the void and prove I was worthy.
My then-husband and I traveled to India, to a sacred temple said to bless couples struggling to conceive. It’s an ancient place, built by a king named Shantanu, who was childless for many years. After praying and building a temple for Lord Krishna, he was blessed with a child. Countless women make pilgrimages there, and the atmosphere was peaceful, sacred, and full of hope. Not long after, I did become pregnant. My joy was beyond words.
But then, I wanted a second child. I believed one wasn’t enough. When I lost that second pregnancy, I became consumed by the lack once again. So much so that I almost forgot to cherish the miracle I already had—my healthy son. I was focused on what was missing, rather than what was present. And I see now that this became a pattern in my life.
I carried that mindset into other areas—especially my romantic relationships. I would dwell on what I didn’t have and spin in that emptiness, believing my happiness depended on something or someone outside of me. My awareness—where I placed my focus—shaped my reality.
As a child, I learned to chase love and attention. It became my silent addiction—love as drama, as longing, as lack. And yet, awareness creates reality. The more I lived in the bubble of what was missing, the more it defined my days. I couldn’t enjoy the moment, because I was trapped in old beliefs: that I wasn’t good enough, beautiful enough, worthy enough.
It took years of reflection and healing to realize that my life was trying to show me something. My relationships, my losses, my shame—all of it was a mirror. I started having honest conversations with my son, and with myself. I began asking: What do I focus on? What do I give my energy to?
Byron Katie says, “If you don’t light your own fire, who will?” I had been running into everyone else’s living rooms, trying to fix their fires, while my own was barely lit. That’s when it changed. I started lighting my own fire again.
When we become truly aware, we understand: the way we feel is always our own choice. We may not control what others do, but we choose how we interpret it, how we respond, and what meaning we give it. Some people may hurt us, yes—but how we carry that pain is up to us. What story do we repeat? What beliefs do we reinforce?
Life isn’t punishing us. But it is mirroring us.
Camus was right—the horror isn’t death. It’s living the same day on repeat, never daring to change. But that’s not where the story has to end. Because once we take back our power, we remember that everything begins within. If we want a better life, we create it through awareness, gratitude, and the courage to break the cycle.
So today, start right here. With what is. With what you do have. Start seeing through the eyes of love, not lack. Begin living the story you want to tell—because you’re the one writing it.