Every few months, our phones gently tap us on the shoulder with a little message:
“Software update available.”
And what do we do?
We plug it in overnight. Like it’s 11:59 PM, and we’re tucking our phones into the charger, like babies going to daycare, full of hope and promise. Excited for some mysterious promise of “improved performance” and a slightly different emoji keyboard.
Meanwhile… our own internal systems? Still running on the same emotional software from 2010.
You know what I mean,
Still reacting the same way to criticism.
Still getting defensive over things we thought we’d healed three journal prompts ago.
Still snapping when we’re overwhelmed.
Still overthinking that one text from three days ago like it’s a puzzle in a Netflix thriller.
The truth? We’ll upgrade everything. Our phones, our skincare, our playlists, our fancy coffee order, but we rarely stop and ask:
“Wait… when’s the last time I got an upgrade?”
I mean, when was the last time you asked:
“Hey, do I still need to react like this?”
“Is this version of me the one I want to keep running?”
Because let’s be real. A new skincare routine might make you glow, but it won’t matter much if the real you keeps disappearing behind being “fine” all the time just to keep the peace.
A new outfit might look great, but it won’t help when you keep chasing people who are emotionally unavailable because that’s what feels familiar.
This isn’t about guilt. It’s just a little push.
A gentle nudge.
A loving tap on the shoulder, like your phone does.
Imagine what would happen if we treated our inner world like we treat our devices.
A little update every now and then:
“Version 3.7: Can now say ‘I need space’ without silent treatment.”
“Version 5.2: Handles criticism without spiraling.”
“Version 6.0: Stops blaming Mercury retrograde for every bad mood.”
The thing is, personal growth doesn’t have a notification bell.
No one’s going to DM you: “Congrats! You finally stopped taking things personally!”
You won’t get a badge for learning to sit with discomfort instead of avoiding it.
But that’s the real glow-up.
We love to romanticize reinvention: new cities, new jobs, new wardrobes. But reinvention doesn’t always look dramatic.
Sometimes it’s just quietly learning how to communicate better.
Sometimes it’s unlearning the idea that rest equals laziness.
Sometimes it’s catching yourself mid-eye-roll and choosing to stay present instead.
It’s the kind of update that no one else might notice immediately.
But you’ll feel it.
Your relationships will shift.
Your self-talk will soften.
Your peace will stretch wider.
And slowly, you’ll realize: You don’t need a new phone.
You just need a better connection with yourself.
So while you’re out here syncing your devices, customizing your widgets, and trying out that new oat milk cold brew, maybe pause for a second.
And ask:
“What’s one part of me that’s ready for an update?”
Because the real flex isn’t the new tech or trends.
It’s becoming someone your past self would be proud of.
Love,
Kirana
