Mustafa Sait’in Günlüğü

Etiket: en

  • The Slow Becoming

    The Slow Becoming

    (Heartful Writings – Part 8)

    Healing doesn’t always feel like progress. Sometimes it feels like pausing. Like not having the words. Like getting through the day… and nothing more.

    But even that is part of it. Even that is movement.

    Becoming is not always about doing —

    Sometimes, it’s about staying soft when it would be easier to shut down.

    The Kind of Growth No One Applauds

    The world celebrates loud victories:

    finishing the race, launching the dream, crossing the finish line.

    But I want to celebrate this:

    The moment you chose rest instead of pushing.

    The time you cried and didn’t apologize for it.

    The day you didn’t answer every message, because your soul needed silence.

    The breath you took when you felt like giving up — but didn’t.

    This is healing, too. This is becoming.

    The Tender Power of Showing Up — Softly

    You don’t have to show up strong. You don’t have to show up shining.

    You just have to show up — with your tired hands, with your aching hope, with your imperfect, beating heart.

    Because the real courage?

    It lives in the quiet moments when you show up anyway.

    You Are Still Becoming — Even Here

    Even when it’s messy. Even when you feel behind. Even when you’re not sure if anything is changing at all.

    You are still becoming.

    In the slowing. In the listening. In the softness.

    You are still unfolding — gently, honestly, in your own sacred time.

    You Don’t Owe the World Your Speed — Only Your Truth

    Let others rush.

    You? You move in rhythm with your breath. You heal with grace, you grow with stillness, and you honor the pace your soul actually needs.

    There is nothing weak about that. It is holy. It is powerful. It is enough.

    📬 If these words met you where you are — tired, soft, trying — then let them stay. Subscribe to keep walking this path with gentle reminders like this, one tender step at a time.

    💭 A Reflection for You:

    What would change if you stopped trying to bloom faster —

    and just started trusting the soil beneath you?

    Write it. Feel it. Even a small whisper of softness can be the start of everything new.

  • The Quiet Strength of Becoming Whole

    The Quiet Strength of Becoming Whole

    Sometimes, we think healing should be loud — a celebration, a moment of grand change. But healing is often softer than we expect. It is found in the spaces between breaths, in the quiet moments when we decide to stay. It is in the acceptance of our brokenness, knowing it doesn’t diminish our worth — but makes us more human.

    The Art of Returning to Yourself

    We often look for healing in external solutions, in quick fixes. But true healing is an internal process, one that doesn’t demand perfection. It asks for presence. It asks for grace. It asks for a willingness to feel even when it feels like too much. To sit with yourself, even when you’re afraid of what you might find.

    You Are Allowed to Be a Work in Progress

    You don’t need to have it all figured out. You don’t need to rush to the finish line. Sometimes, progress looks like standing still. Sometimes, it is enough to take one step — no matter how small.

    It’s okay to grow slowly. It’s okay to falter. You are not behind. You are simply learning to breathe in your own rhythm.

    Embrace the Unfolding

    Healing isn’t always linear. There are days when you feel whole. And there are days when you feel broken. Both are part of the journey.

    The key is not to rush the process. Healing doesn’t have deadlines. You are not racing against time. You are simply becoming, one quiet moment at a time.

    Your Pace is Your Power

    There is strength in slowness. There is power in patience. By choosing to move at your own pace, you reclaim control over your journey. You stop comparing your progress to others, and you begin to honor your unique path.

    There is no wrong way to heal. There is no wrong way to grow. You are doing it perfectly — in your own time, in your own way.

    A Gentle Invitation

    As you navigate this path of healing, remember this:

    It is okay to rest.

    It is okay to be gentle with yourself. You are worthy of softness, worthy of care, worthy of time. Let yourself unfold at your own pace.

    A Final Thought:

    What part of your heart are you learning to hold gently today?

    Sometimes, the only thing we need is the willingness to soften — to feel, to heal, and to embrace the unfolding process.

    Let this be your reminder:

    You are enough, just as you are.

  • Codes That Grow in Silence: What the Night Teaches

    In the stillness of night, code becomes more than syntax — it becomes thought in motion. This piece explores how silence fuels creativity, focus, and inner connection.

    Codes That Grow in Silence: What the Night Teaches

  • A Life Rising with Code: My Journey

    More than just learning to code, I discovered a new version of myself. This is the story of growth, creativity, and becoming through code.

    A Life Rising with Code: My Journey
  • A Life Rising with Code: My Journey

    A Life Rising with Code: My Journey

    At some point in my life, I whispered to myself:

    “I may be a civil servant…

    but my dreams don’t have to wear a uniform.”

    I’m Mustafa Sait.

    I work as an enforcement officer at the Social Security Institution in Turkey.

    I value my job — it supports my family, gives structure to my days. But quietly, beneath the surface of routine, something else was growing:

    a longing to create.

    To understand.

    To build something of my own.

    Where It All Began

    It started with curiosity.

    A computer.

    Some late nights.

    And a question that refused to leave me alone:

    “If I can play these games…why can’t I learn to make them?”

    That question cracked something open in me.

    I began exploring HTML, CSS, JavaScript — then Python, Django, React…

    And suddenly, I wasn’t just browsing the web.

    I was learning how to shape it.

    Coding at 11 PM with Tea and Tired Eyes

    I often sit at my laptop after the kids are asleep.
    It’s quiet.
    The world slows down.
    And there I am — tapping away in the dark,
    writing code with trembling fingers and a hopeful heart.

    Sometimes, tears gather —not from exhaustion,

    but from the quiet joy of learning something

    I once believed was beyond me.

    Every line of code is a tiny rebellion.

    A whisper: “You can change your life… one function at a time.”

    Why I Write This Blog

    This blog isn’t just about code. It’s about becoming.

    It’s about what it means to chase a dream when no one expects you to. When you have responsibilities, bills, doubts, and a life to live — but you still choose to try.

    Here, you’ll find:

    My honest learning curve

    Mistakes I made and what they taught me

    Thoughts from a chess-loving, midnight-coding soul

    Stories of not giving up — even when it would’ve been easier to

    Final Words

    I’m not writing from the finish line. I’m still learning. Still building. Still becoming.

    But maybe… you are too.

    Maybe you’re walking your own quiet path.

    If so — we’re already connected.

    Let this blog be a warm companion on your journey.

    Leave a comment. Say hello.

    Let’s grow together — with code, with courage, and with heart.

    With peace and passion for code,

    — Mustafa Sait

    “I’m not just learning to code. I’m learning to believe in who I can become.”

  • Writing from the Heart

    Writing from the Heart

    Writing Just to Write: The Most Honest Form of Expression

    Today, I simply wanted to write. Not for likes, not for approval, not for shares. I didn’t care if anyone would read it.

    It was just me… and my pen. Only my heart spoke.

    And in that silence, I finally understood:

    True writing isn’t meant to be read. It’s meant to be felt.

    The Moment the Pen Became a Mirror

    Was it too short? Too plain? Was something missing? I didn’t worry about that.

    Because this time, I wasn’t writing a piece —

    I was writing myself.

    Every word became a mirror. And sometimes, when you look into a mirror, you don’t want perfection. You want truth.

    So today, I chose to be honest. To just… show up as I am.

    Unpolished but Real

    Even the words that get no applause — they matter. They speak what is unseen, unheard. They are raw, simple, sincere. And that’s what makes them beautiful.

    For the first time, I whispered to myself:

    “Even if no one reads it… I wrote because something inside me needed to speak.”

    And maybe, just maybe, this was the most free I’ve ever felt while writing.

    Writing Without an Audience

    When was the last time you wrotejust because it felt right?

    No likes.

    No validation.

    No pressure.

    Just you — and the need to let something out.

    In that moment,

    the truest version of your voice begins to appear.

    A Gentle Question to You:

    What was your most honest piece of writing?

    Drop it in the comments — because someone out there might read your words

    and finally feel less alone.

  • Becoming the One Who Stays

    Becoming the One Who Stays

    (Heartful Writings – Part 7)

    At some point, healing becomes less about becoming someone else and more about staying true to who you’ve always been —

    beneath the noise,

    beneath the wounds,

    beneath the need to be anything more.

    Wholeness isn’t built in the spotlight. It’s shaped in the quiet rooms where you don’t leave yourself.

    I Am the Presence I Was Waiting For

    No longer chasing “better.” No longer begging for someone to choose me. Now, I choose myself — daily, intentionally, gently.

    When sadness comes, I don’t try to escape. I pour tea. I sit still. And I whisper:

    “You’re allowed to feel everything — and still be loved.”

    Safety Is Not Something I Find — It’s Something I Offer

    To my fears. To my younger self. To the parts I once silenced.

    Now, I show up like a friend. Not fixing. Not judging. Just being there.

    This is how I begin again — not by doing more, but by staying close.

    I No Longer Walk Away from My Tiredness

    When exhaustion rises, I don’t shame it. I soften.

    I hold myself like I would a child. With patience. With grace.

    Because the truth is:

    Being soft with myself is how I stay strong.

    This Is What Love Looks Like Now

    It’s not loud. It’s not earned. It’s not measured by what I give others.

    It’s the quiet way I speak to myself in the mirror. In the messy middle. In the moments I used to leave.

    Love now sounds like:

    “I see you.” “I’m here.” “I’m not going anywhere.”

    📬 If these words feel like something you’ve needed to tell yourself for a while — whisper them again. Say them softer this time. And let them stay. Subscribe if you’d like to keep growing beside this kind of quiet.

    💭 A Reflection for You:

    What would shift if you showed up for yourself with the same loyalty you once gave away too easily?

    Today, write one sentence that anchors you.

    Let it begin with:

    “I will not leave me.”

    Let that be your new beginning. Your homecoming.

    Author’s Note:

    This piece was written on a day I almost abandoned myself — again. But instead, I paused… and stayed. If you’re learning to stay too, not out of fear but out of love , then this is your place.

  • The Quiet Promise I Made to Myself

    The Quiet Promise I Made to Myself

    (Heartful Writings – Part 6)

    There comes a moment when staying is no longer about survival — it becomes about devotion.

    Not loud. Not dramatic. But soft. Steady. A quiet promise whispered inward:

    “I won’t leave myself again.”

    I Am Learning to Keep My Own Heart Warm

    No longer waiting for someone to say “You matter.” No longer seeking permission to rest, to breathe, to just be.

    Instead, I place both hands over my chest and remind myself:

    “You are enough.You always were.”

    Even in doubt. Even in sadness. Even in the silence no one else hears.

    Loyalty to Myself Feels Like Peace

    It doesn’t mean I never get overwhelmed. It means I no longer walk away from myself when I do.

    When shame knocks, I stay. When fear rises, I listen. When I fall short, I hold myself gently, not harshly.

    This is loyalty. Not to a version of me I wish I was —but to the one I am, right now.

    My Safe Place Is Not Somewhere — It’s Me

    Not a house. Not a relationship. Not a future achievement.

    But this breath. This moment. This willingness to sit with myself without trying to change the shape of my sadness.

    To say:

    “You can cry here. You can rest here. And still be whole.”

    The Strength to Stay Doesn’t Come From Force — But From Love

    I don’t stay because I’m strong. I stay because I’ve grown tender enough to not abandon myself.

    And that, too, is a kind of power —not loud, not seen, but sacred.

    Because staying is no longer a fight. It is a coming home.

    📬 If these words sat quietly beside something sacred in you, let them stay. Subscribe if you’d like more softness like this, woven gently into your days.

    💭 A Reflection for You:

    What if you kept the promises you once made to others — but made them to yourself this time?

    What would it mean to be faithful to your fear, gentle with your grief, and committed to your healing?

    Write the first sentence of your promise today.

    Let it begin with:

    “I’m here — and I’ll keep showing up.”

  • Learning to Stay Close to Myself

    Learning to Stay Close to Myself

    (Heartful Writings – Part 5)

    There’s a moment — quiet but undeniable — when you stop trying to “get over it” and instead begin to stay beside yourself with a kind of gentle loyalty you’ve never offered before.

    Not because you’ve solved everything. But because you finally understand:

    Being with yourself is no longer a punishment — it’s an act of love.

    The Sacredness of Staying

    Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is simply not walk away from yourself.

    To stay. In the fear.In the fatigue. In the questions that don’t yet have answers.

    To stay… and whisper:

    “You are allowed to feel this.” “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

    I Am Learning to Be My Own Comfort

    I used to look for safety in someone else’s arms. Now, I place my own hand over my heart.

    I breathe slowly. I listen gently. I say to the hurting parts:

    “You are not too heavy. You are mine. And I’m not leaving.”

    Kindness Is Not a Reward — It’s a Right

    The version of me that struggles is just as worthy of softness as the version that shines.

    I no longer wait to “deserve” peace. I choose it now — because my pain doesn’t disqualify me from tenderness.

    The Quiet Strength of Not Leaving Myself Behind

    I still have questions. I still feel tired. But now, I carry both of those things with grace — not guilt.

    Because I’ve learned:

    I don’t have to abandon myself to be strong for others.

    I don’t have to disappear to be lovable.

    📬 If this writing touched the part of you that is tired of running, rest here. Stay close. You are safe with yourself now. Subscribe if you’d like gentle reminders like this, from time to time.

    Reflection for You:

    What part of you has been waiting for you to stay?

    Not to fix. Not to silence. But to simply say:

    “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

    Let that be your beginning.

  • Becoming My Own Safe Place

    Becoming My Own Safe Place

    (Heartful Writings – Part 4)

    There is a quiet shift that happens after you stop trying to change yourself and start learning to trust your own presence.

    Not as a goal.

    Not as a project.

    But as a home — a place where you can return to again and again, without fear, without explanation.

    The Moment I Realized I Didn’t Need to Be Saved

    For so long, I looked outward for safety — for someone to understand, to hold, to see me. But slowly, I began to feel something else:

    A quiet knowing that

    I could hold space for myself.

    Not perfectly.

    Not always.

    But enough to begin again.

    Being With Myself Became Being For Myself

    I stopped asking:

    “What’s wrong with me?”

    and started asking:

    “What does this part of me need?”

    I softened toward the scared parts. I stood with the weary parts. I listened to the parts that had long been ignored.

    And I whispered:

    “You don’t need to earn rest. You already belong.”

    Not Fixing — Befriending

    I used to think growth meant remodeling myself. Now I see it as befriending myself.

    I became less about becoming someone new and more about becoming someone safe to return to.

    Because if I can sit with my sadness without fleeing, stand with my fears without shrinking, breathe with my doubts without scolding…

    Then I am no longer my enemy.

    I am my witness.

    My companion.

    My safe place.

    What Softness Has Taught Me

    Softness is not weakness.

    It is resistance to harshness.

    It is choosing patience over punishment, compassion over correction, presence over pressure.

    It is realizing that healing isn’t a sprint —
    it’s a slow return
    to the self you’ve been carrying all along.

    📬 If this writing met you in a place that needed warmth, stay a while. Subscribe. Breathe. Rest here. You’re home.

    💭 Reflection for You:

    What would it feel like to stop fixing and start befriending yourself?

    What part of you is ready to stop being judged — and start being understood?

    Write to that part.

    Sit with it.

    Let it feel safe.

    Because once you are your own safe place… you stop abandoning yourself.