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Every few years, the Olympics come around and we watch people do things that most of us cannot even imagine doing.

They train for years, dedicate their entire lives, and push their bodies and minds to limits that seem impossible.

And then there are the rest of us.

The people who deserve medals for things that nobody has officially recognized yet. The small, ridiculous, deeply human things that we do every single day and somehow survive.

I’ve been thinking that if these life events were actual Olympic sports, I would not just participate but probably medal in more than a few. Some I have mastered over decades. Some I am still actively competing in. And some, honestly, I am probably going to lose at forever.

But I would like the record to show that I showed up for every one:

1. Packing for a two-week trip and convincing yourself every single item is essential.

This is probably the event where I would win gold every single Olympics for the next 40 years.

I genuinely do not understand why I pack the way I do. A three day trip? Easy. I’ll just pack enough clothes for two weeks. A two week trip? I’ll pack like I am leaving civilization for six months. A month long trip? I am basically preparing to relocate, permanently.

And it is not just clothes. That would almost be understandable. But I take it to another level.

I am vegetarian, so I carry silverware because what if I can’t find something appropriate to eat? I carry things that make absolutely no sense when I think about them later. On my current 45-day trip through Europe, I packed salt and chili powder.

Salt and chili powder.

As if Europe has somehow collectively decided that these two seasonings no longer exist.

The only reason I did not carry around a packet of plain Quaker oats was because my suitcase was already so overweight when I left Chennai that I had to make a difficult choice. And even then, I was genuinely considering it. I also carried two tubes of Sensodyne because apparently I believe that Paris, Zurich, and every other place I plan to visit have never heard of sensitive teeth. I carried around a ridiculous number of cough drops because what would happen if I went on a day trip from Zurich to Interlaken, got a cold, came back coughing, and could not find Halls?

The logical part of my brain knows I am being ridiculous. The other part of my brain is already packing extra socks.

2. Having a full conversation in your head, wanting to win the argument, and then realizing you do not care anymore.

This one is probably the most Scorpio thing about me.

I am an overthinker. I feel things deeply. I am emotional. I am passionate. When I was younger, I used to lose my temper quickly. I used to think about things endlessly. I used to replay conversations, analyze every word, and create entire arguments in my head.

And honestly, I think a lot of my ambition and drive came from that same place. That intensity that made me overthink also made me work harder. It made me want to prove myself. It made me want to succeed.

Even now, I still have these conversations in my head. Someone does something that hurts me, and immediately my brain starts creating the perfect response. I imagine what I will say when I see them. I imagine how I will explain exactly why they were wrong and exactly how they made me feel.

But something has changed.

The argument happens. The entire conversation plays out in my head. I say everything I need to say. I vent. I make my case. But when the actual moment arrives, I often find myself thinking, what is even the point? It is not because I have suddenly become some enlightened person who has risen above human emotions. Absolutely not. I am still me. I still feel things.

But life has a way of changing our priorities.

When you lose people you thought you could not live without, when you spend years sitting with grief, when you somehow come out on the other side and realize that life continues even after the things you thought would destroy you, you start looking at smaller battles differently.

I still have the conversation in my head. I still play the sport. I just do not care about winning anymore.

3. Pretending not to be competitive while being absolutely competitive.

This one makes me laugh because I know exactly who I am. I am competitive. I could pretend that I am this calm, zen person who does not care about winning, but deep down? I care. I am a Scorpio. Passionate is probably the nicest word for it.

I am sure there were times when I was younger when I was probably obnoxious about it. I am sure there were moments when I needed to prove my point, needed to win, needed to show that I was right.

But one thing I have realized as I have gotten older is that aging is not just about losing memories. Sometimes aging is about choosing what you want to remember. There are things that used to consume me that I genuinely cannot be bothered about anymore.

I still compete. I still want to do well. I still want to improve. But the competition has changed. I do not really want to compete with other people anymore. I do not want to spend my energy fighting every battle, proving every point, and showing everyone what I am capable of.

The biggest competition now is with myself.

Can I do better than I did yesterday? Can I become a better version of myself? Can I push myself without needing someone else to lose? That is the competition I care about now.

The fire is still there. It just burns differently.

4. Remembering something terrible you did years ago and feeling guilty all over again.

This is probably the hardest Olympic sport I compete in.

Because this one is not about what other people did to me. This one is about what I did to other people.

I have worked very hard over the years to not let other people’s behavior consume me. Things that used to destroy me, like someone being disloyal or someone I cared about pulling away, do not have the same power over me anymore. I have learned to let go.

But the things I did? Those are harder.

There are things I remember from years ago. Things I said. Things I did. Times when I was not kind enough, patient enough, or aware enough. Moments when I hurt people, sometimes intentionally and sometimes without even realizing it.

And the hardest ones are the things I cannot fix anymore. Because what do you do when the person you hurt is no longer alive?

The people who are here, you can talk to. You can apologize. You can explain. You can ask for forgiveness.

But the people who are gone? Those conversations only happen inside your own head. And I have them. Sometimes those memories come back after an hour. Sometimes after months. Sometimes after years. Yes, I have learned how to move through them. I have learned how to forgive myself enough to continue living my life. But I have not forgotten.

Maybe that is the sport I am still trying to master. Not forgetting. Not pretending it did not happen. But accepting that the person I was then is not the person I am now.

5. Creating the perfect response in your head and then saying something completely different.

This is another one I do all the time.

Something happens. Someone says something. Someone hurts me. And immediately my brain starts working. I create the perfect response. The perfect explanation. The perfect argument. I imagine exactly what I will say. Exactly how I will say it. Exactly how they will realize they were wrong.

And then the actual conversation happens. And almost every single time, I say something completely different. Because somewhere between the argument I created in my head and the actual person sitting in front of me, something changes. Maybe I understand them better. Maybe I see their limitations. Maybe I realize that saying everything I want to say will give me five minutes of satisfaction but cost me days of emotional exhaustion.

And I think that is something age has taught me. Having the last word is not always the same thing as winning. Sometimes you can have the perfect comeback and still lose your peace.

So yes, I still participate in this Olympic sport. I still create speeches in my head that deserve awards. But when the actual race begins, I sometimes decide I do not even want to run. You can have the medal.

6. Deleting social media and pretending you have finally won.

This is the modern Olympic sport that I will probably never retire from.

“I am taking a break from Instagram.”

Two hours later.

“Let me just check one thing.”

And then suddenly an hour has disappeared.

I have deleted Instagram. I have deleted Facebook. I have declared myself done with social media multiple times. And then I come back.

Sometimes it is practical. When I was considering traveling to the U.S., I remember deleting apps because there were stories about phones being checked at immigration, and I thought, who knows what I have said where? Better to be safe.

Sometimes it is because I know I waste too much time doom scrolling. Recently, I have found a middle ground. I have Instagram installed on my phone, but it is not sitting on my home screen. I have to actually search for it. I have to make an effort. It is a tiny barrier, but somehow it helps. I still go on it. I still scroll. I still lose time. But it feels like I have a little bit more control. And maybe that is the point.

Maybe adulthood is not about conquering every bad habit. Maybe it is about understanding ourselves enough to create systems that help us live better. I do not think I will ever win this Olympic event. But I am still competing. And honestly, that is probably enough. Because maybe the point of life is not becoming perfect at all these ridiculous little games we play. Maybe the point is recognizing which ones matter, which ones do not, and learning to laugh at ourselves along the way.

Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go check something on Instagram. You know? Just one thing!

~

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