Hi, my name is Vaibhavi Goyal, and welcome to Choose Fullness.

Orange juice and chai is the best way to start your day
I don’t make the rules.

Coming home for a weekend and forgetting which way to turn the faucet for warm water is the worst way to start your day.

My three favorite stuffed animals still wait for me on my full-size bed in Ohio, though I’m only there 13% of the time. Meanwhile, my bed in Indiana feels too small to hold the weight of childhood memories.
Ironic, isn’t it?

I’m learning not to resent myself for the ache that remembering brings.
My high school self—anxious, unkind at times, constantly searching for validation—still lingers like a faint echo. Remembering her is both tender and uncomfortable, but necessary.
I feel it right in the middle of my chest: the quiet pulse of a girl who first learned what pain really was, what it meant at its core.
The guileless girl who thought her first college acceptance letter would fix everything.
The one who tried so hard to understand why people could be cruel, and why the world never seemed fair.

I love coming home for breaks, the anticipation always glows bright and dizzy. But the first night back, you remember the unease folded inside the nostalgia. It’s not something to resent, but not something to forget either. It’s an invitation to sit with what built you, to honor the foundation, even if it faltered.

The next morning, the sun rises softly, no alarm needed. The hum of the juicer becomes your wake-up call. You haven’t had orange juice in 64 days, and nothing rivals the kind your mom makes—fresh, patient, and somehow sweeter than anything you could buy. But you know, as always, that no morning in this house begins without chai.
So it’s orange juice and chai.

You get ready to see old faces, to step into familiar places. You reach for the faucet and hesitate. It no longer feels instinctive. You feel like a guest in your own home.
Is it still yours?

You drive to meet a childhood friend for coffee. The same stoplights blink red where you once laughed with the boy you thought you’d love forever, the one who listened patiently while your biggest worry was the color of your prom dress.

And then, it’s time to go back.
Back to the place without orange juice or chai.
Where hot water comes without thought, and the bed is dressed in white pillows. Only a pink throw, found by your persistent mother during move-in, keeps it from feeling too new, too empty.

To all the people who start their mornings with apple cider vinegar and supplements, don’t forget about chai and orange juice.
Because 87% of the year, I am them.

Redefining normal is part of growing up, of becoming someone new. But remembering the person who carried you here—that’s how you honor the journey.

You don’t have to resent your evolution, or rush to erase it.
Just sit with it.
Feel where it lives in your body.
Let it remind you that every version of you has had her reasons, her seasons, her lessons.

So remember—your glass is full.
Whether you see it that way is up to you.