Most Problems Are Communication Problems

I always say that if we don’t include health problems, you realize that most problems in life are communication problems. Over time, I’ve realized that many of the biggest challenges — whether in work, friendship, or love — aren’t really about differences in values, goals, or personalities. They are about communication.

We like to think that communication is about transmitting a message. You say something, and the other person hears it and understands it exactly as you meant it. But real communication is interpretation, not transmission. Every person who listens to you filters your words through their own background, experiences, fears, and hopes. Even the clearest words can be misunderstood if the listener’s frame of reference is different.

In a world more focused on talking than listening, true communication becomes even harder. Many conversations today feel like parallel monologues rather than genuine dialogues. Everyone wants to be heard, but few pause to listen deeply. And when listening disappears, misunderstanding rushes in to take its place.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve thought that someone misunderstood me, or that I misunderstood someone else. It’s a common experience that reminds me how fragile communication can be. Even when intentions are good, the words we choose and the way they are received can create unexpected distance. Each of these moments has taught me that communication is not just about expressing ourselves, but about making sure we are truly understood.

One day, I had one of the most interesting conversations with a coworker. We talked about coding, languages, photography, psychology, philosophy, and music. Through that conversation, I saw clearly that everything is communication. Whether we are writing code, composing a song, capturing a photograph, or sharing an idea, at the core, we are trying to express something and connect with others. It made me realize that many of my interests are deeply connected to communication. Each of these passions, in its own way, is about understanding others, expressing ourselves, and creating meaning between people.

In a world that moves so fast, people hardly take the time to truly listen. Conversations are often rushed, distracted, or superficial. Deep listening — the kind that makes others feel seen and understood — has become rare, yet it is more necessary than ever. Slowing down to listen with care can transform not just conversations, but relationships and communities.

A big part of the problem is assumptions. We assume people know what we mean. We assume they share our definitions, our priorities, our sensitivities. But real connection requires curiosity, not assumptions. Asking, “How did you understand that?” or “What did you hear me say?” can prevent small misunderstandings from growing into bigger conflicts.

Another common trap is listening to respond rather than listening to understand. Many of us, when hearing someone else speak, are already mentally preparing our next reply.

True understanding requires stillness — putting aside the urge to reply and instead focusing fully on the other person’s words, emotions, and perspective.

And sometimes, words aren’t the real message at all. Emotions speak louder than language. Tone, body language, pauses, even silence — all of these carry meaning. Someone might say “I’m fine,” but their voice or expression tells a different story. Listening beyond words is an essential part of truly understanding others.

In my experience, clarity and questions are bridges. Instead of assuming, accusing, or defending, asking better questions opens the door to mutual understanding. “Can you tell me more about what you meant?” or “How do you see this situation?” are simple but powerful phrases that change the entire tone of a conversation.

Imagine if we approached every conflict not with the question “Who is right?” but with “What are we misunderstanding?” Conflicts would feel less like battles and more like collaborations. Less about winning and more about understanding.

Most misunderstandings can be healed with patience, humility, and a willingness to listen — not just to words, but to hearts. In a world eager to speak, the rarest and most beautiful gift we can offer is the gift of truly listening.

In the end, maybe listening — truly listening — is the most powerful act of kindness we have left.

It’s Not About the Answers — It’s About the Questions

Learning has always felt like an old friend to me — a companion that has walked beside me through every stage of my life. From the time I opened my dad’s books and realized that entire worlds lived inside its pages, to the many times I’ve sat in classrooms, webinars, coffee shops, or simply by myself with a notebook, chasing a new idea — learning has been one of the purest sources of joy, curiosity, and growth for me.

In a world that moves faster than ever, where knowledge doubles and industries transform seemingly overnight, the ability to learn is no longer just a nice-to-have. It’s essential. But beyond necessity, I believe learning is what keeps us vibrant, humble, and connected to the vastness of life. It’s the art of becoming — again and again.

In this post, I want to share a little bit about where my love for learning comes from, how my understanding of learning has evolved, and a few strategies that have helped me become a better learner over time. Whether you consider yourself a lifelong student or are simply looking to reconnect with your curiosity, I hope you’ll find something here that inspires you to embrace learning in your own way.

Where My Love for Learning Comes From

My love of learning comes from my parents. My dad loves reading, and my mom loves schools—it’s probably the most beautiful gift they could have given me. Growing up surrounded by books, curiosity, and encouragement made learning feel less like a task and more like an exciting part of life.

Through my academic journey, I’ve had the chance to develop solid learning skills. I graduated at the top of my class in high school and earned an Excellence Award at university for maintaining grades above 95 (out of 100). But beyond the grades, what stayed with me was a deep belief: learning is something natural. I trust our brain’s and body’s innate abilities—just as our body knows how to move, our brain knows how to learn. The key is consistency. Small daily steps, in both movement and learning, lead to steady and lasting growth.

I still remember walking around our living room with a stack of index cards, studying for exams. Pacing back and forth, reading the concepts aloud to myself, I could almost feel the ideas settling in deeper with every step. I also loved studying at the school library — it became one of my favorite places. I would find a quiet corner, put on my earphones, listen to music, and dive into my notes. Surrounded by the soft rustle of pages and the quiet hum of concentration, learning felt peaceful, almost like entering a world of my own.

At home, my mom was always by my side in her own way. She would never go to bed until I had finished studying or doing my homework. No matter how late it was, she stayed awake, sometimes offering me food, tea or tomato juice, quietly encouraging me without ever rushing me. Her silent support made those long nights feel less lonely and reminded me that I wasn’t on this journey alone.

Those small, focused moments, repeated over time, built not just knowledge but a deep sense of trust in the learning process — and a deep gratitude for the people who believed in me.

My Learning Methods

Over time, I’ve developed a simple and effective approach to learning that has supported me through school, work, and personal projects:

Mind Maps: I discovered mind maps in high school when one of our teachers would draw them on the whiteboard. Since then, they’ve become one of my favorite tools for breaking down new topics, organizing ideas, and planning complex work projects. Today, I use digital tools like Freemind, Freeplane, and MindNode (for Mac) to create mind maps more efficiently and keep them organized across different areas of my life.
Index Cards: I also love index cards. Whenever I learn something new, I summarize the concepts on cards—sometimes even drawing mini mind maps on them! Reviewing my cards became a habit, often while walking around or during short breaks. Nowadays, I also use Anki, a digital flashcard app that uses spaced repetition, reviewing information at carefully timed intervals. I’ve learned that spaced repetition helps knowledge settle more naturally into long-term memory compared to cramming everything at once.
Reading: Whenever I want to dive deep into a new topic, I find the three most relevant books and read them back to back. This method helps me grasp the essential ideas and see different perspectives without getting overwhelmed by too much information at once.
Notetaking: I’m a big fan of building a personal knowledge system. I enjoy using apps like Notion and Obsidian to organize my notes, capture insights from books, and track my learning progress. Having a digital space to connect ideas has made my learning deeper and more flexible over time.
Self-Explanation: Another technique that has helped me is explaining concepts out loud to myself, as if I were teaching them to someone else. If I can explain an idea clearly and simply, I know I truly understand it. It’s a small habit, but it has made a big difference in how deeply I learn.

A Lesson from Cambridge: The Power of Questions

A few years ago, I had the chance to meet Ali Abdaal in Cambridge. What surprised me the most wasn’t just his knowledge or accomplishments — it was the sheer amount of questions he asked. His curiosity was almost endless.

At that moment, something clicked for me: learning and intelligence aren’t about the answers we give, but about the questions we dare to ask ourselves.

School often emphasizes having the right replies, but true learning, the kind that stays with us and transforms us, begins with asking better and deeper questions.

Since then, I’ve tried to focus less on having immediate answers and more on nurturing thoughtful questions — trusting that the answers will come in their own time.

One practice that has helped me is elaborative questioning: asking myself “Why does this work this way?”, “What happens if I change this?”, or “How is this connected to what I already know?” Turning learning into a conversation with myself makes it richer and more memorable.

Learning Isn’t Always Easy

Learning is deeply rewarding, but it’s not always easy. There are days when the concepts seem confusing, the motivation feels low, or progress appears invisible. Over the years, I’ve realized these moments are not signs of failure — they are natural milestones. Learning is rarely a straight path; it’s full of little frustrations and moments of doubt.

But if we trust the process and stay consistent, these small efforts compound into something meaningful and lasting.

Micro-Tips for Better Learning

Here are a few simple strategies that have helped me along the way:

Start with questions. Curiosity lights the path far better than pressure.
Break it down. Small, manageable chunks make big goals feel less overwhelming.
Teach what you learn. Explaining it to someone else deepens your understanding.
Review regularly. A few minutes a week to revisit your notes can make a big difference.
Allow imperfection. Mastery grows through mistakes and revision, not instant perfection.

An Invitation to Curiosity

Learning, for me, has never been about rushing. It’s about building a relationship with curiosity, one small step at a time.

It’s about trusting that even on the days when progress feels invisible, growth is quietly happening underneath.

Wherever you are in your own learning journey, I invite you to nurture that spark of curiosity within you. Pick up a book. Ask a question. Make a mind map. Summarize what you just learned.

Because every small step you take adds to the lifelong adventure of becoming more of who you are meant to be.

The Lessons I Didn’t Expect from Starting a PhD (That Has Nothing to Do with My Research)

When I started my PhD in Human Development, I thought the most challenging part would be the research itself—designing a study, collecting data, analyzing it, and writing up the results. And while that part is no walk in the park, what’s surprised me the most are the unexpected life lessons that come with the process.

I started my PhD studies 7 months ago—it wasn’t in my 2024 plans. I decided last minute to join the program, and it was a five-minute decision. Someone I trust and admire very much recommended it. I sent a quick email asking for info—I knew nothing about the program. I attended one class to see if I liked it, and the next thing I know, I’m enrolled.

It is said that the people you surround yourself with have a big impact on your life. I now realize that I had been spending time with people who were doing a PhD or a postdoc. I didn’t fully notice how much of an influence that had on me, so when the time came, it was a surprisingly easy decision.

I guess you’re never really ready. And that’s okay. Starting before you feel ready teaches you to trust yourself and grow into the role.

Choosing a Research Topic

On the first day of class, I was asked, “So, what do you want your research to be about?”—and I had no clue. A PhD program wasn’t in my 2024 plans, and I only had a few days to decide. The best advice I was given came from one of my PhD professors: “Just make sure you choose something you like very, very much. Otherwise, you will lose interest or abandon the PhD program.” That made the decision easier. I knew I loved learning about habits.

The Art of Time and Energy Management

The next challenge was to find the time to attend classes, work on essays, read books and research papers, and write my thesis. More than scheduling—it’s learning to protect your energy, say no, and prioritize what truly matters. I had to make many changes to my schedule and the way my weeks flowed. Doing a PhD requires lots of focus and concentration, so I had to learn when I’m most productive and reserve that time for research and writing.

Doing a PhD is not just an academic journey. It’s an emotional, psychological, and even physical one. I’ve had to learn to manage my time in a way I never had to before. I’ve had to be kinder to myself on days when things felt overwhelming. And I’ve discovered a level of perseverance I didn’t know I had.

One of the biggest things I’ve learned is that progress is not always visible. There are days—weeks even—when you feel like nothing is moving. But in hindsight, you realize that the internal shifts, the tiny mindset changes, the ability to sit with discomfort, are all part of the process.

Another lesson: boundaries. When you’re juggling a PhD, work, and life, you have to get really good at saying no. And not just to others, but to your own desire to do everything perfectly. Perfectionism doesn’t survive in a PhD program. Flexibility does.

The Importance of Community and Vulnerability

Whether it’s classmates, professors, friends, or loved ones, having people who remind you that you’re not alone makes all the difference.

Doing a PhD has stretched me in every direction. But it’s also made me more grounded, more compassionate, more patient, and more in tune with my values. I didn’t expect that when I started. But I’m grateful for it.

One of the things I’ve enjoyed most is sharing experiences with my classmates. We are always contacting each other on chat groups or calling to clarify things we learned in class, or just to support one another when we feel lost.

We all come from different backgrounds, but we share a love for learning. If you could see our classes, you would see that sometimes we don’t agree with each other—and that’s part of the beauty. We have such different points of view, but we remain open to hearing one another and disagreeing with respect.

Learning to Speak Up

I must admit that the PhD has made me more extroverted. At the beginning, I didn’t want to talk much, and the professors encouraged me to speak more.

One of the things I’ve also found myself enjoying is sharing what I’m learning with everyone. People get curious when I tell them I’m researching habits, wellness, and happiness. I always say, “I’m just beginning my PhD,” but it leads to very interesting conversations.

If you’re on a similar path, or thinking about it, know this: it’s not just about the degree. It’s about who you become along the way. Looking back, I didn’t just sign up for a PhD—I signed up for growth in all its messy, beautiful forms.

The Habit That Changed Everything

A while ago, I realized something needed to change.

Life was full—overflowing, really—with work, leadership, study, and the constant hum of responsibilities. But underneath all the motion, I felt like something was off. I wasn’t showing up the way I wanted to—not for others, and not for myself. What I craved wasn’t more time or more energy (though those would’ve been nice). What I needed was consistency. I wanted to prove to myself that I was capable of adding new habits—or changing existing ones—and making them stick.

So I started small.

Very small.

I decided to take my vitamins every day. I knew I had to be consistent if I wanted to see results.

That was it. No elaborate morning routine, no massive overhaul of my schedule—just one simple, intentional action I could do daily. And honestly? That decision changed everything.

At first, it felt almost too simple. But showing up for that one habit—day after day—started to shift something inside me. I began to see myself as someone who follows through. Someone who takes care of her health, even in the middle of chaos. That tiny act became a quiet vote for the person I was becoming.

It didn’t happen overnight, but gradually, consistency started to spill into other areas of my life. I got more intentional with movement, hydration, boundaries. I started reconnecting with routines I had dropped. I felt clearer, calmer, and more grounded—even on the days that were still messy.

Taking vitamins didn’t just support my body—it strengthened my identity.

That’s the thing about habits. The small ones—the ones that seem almost too easy to skip—are often the ones that carry the most power. They remind us who we are. They build trust with ourselves. And they create momentum, one simple action at a time.

So if you’re feeling like you’re drowning in demands, or like your days are running you instead of the other way around, here’s my advice:

Don’t try to change everything at once.

Start small.

Start with one habit that feels doable.

Then show up for it like it matters—because it does.

Mine was a daily vitamin.

Yours might be a glass of water. A five-minute walk. A deep breath before opening your laptop.

Whatever it is, let it be your anchor. You never know what it might lead to.

Pressing Reset: The Blog, My Life, and What’s Next

It’s been a while since I’ve written here. Life, as it tends to do, got full—full of projects, deadlines, leadership challenges, research papers, and all the beautiful, messy things in between.

But I’ve missed this space.

Writing has always been a way for me to reflect, to connect, and to make sense of the world. So I’m pressing reset. Not starting over, exactly, but returning with a deeper sense of purpose.

Since my last post, a lot has changed.

I moved back to Atlanta, I stepped into a new role in tech. I also started a PhD in Human Development, diving into the science of habits and their impact on well-being and happiness. It’s been intense, rewarding, and sometimes overwhelming—but it’s also helped me see patterns, lessons, and truths I want to share.

This blog is my space to do just that.

I’m returning to write about the themes that keep showing up in my life: growth, habits, leadership, and well-being. Sometimes through personal stories. Sometimes through research. Sometimes through lessons I’ve learned the hard way.

You’ll find reflections on how to lead with intention, how to build sustainable habits, how to protect your energy in high-stress environments, and maybe even a few side adventures—photography, travel, tacos (because life is also meant to be enjoyed).

So here I am—back at the keyboard.

Let’s see where this takes us.

If you’ve been here before: thank you.

If you’re new: welcome.

If you’re curious about the messy, meaningful path of personal growth—I hope you’ll stick around.