My Story: The Journey Behind The Conscious Amma

My name is Raji.

Today, many people know me as the founder of The Conscious Amma, a parenting coach in training, a writer, and a mother passionate about
helping families raise emotionally healthy children.

But The Conscious Amma did not begin with a website, a coaching course, or a social media page.

It began much earlier.

It began with a little girl who was deeply loved.

A young woman who refused to give up on her education.

A professional who achieved her career dreams.

A mother who nearly lost herself under the weight of expectations.

And a woman who slowly discovered that true transformation begins within.

This is my story.

A Long-Awaited Child

I was born after nine years of my parents' marriage.

I was their first child.

A child they had waited for, prayed for, and loved deeply.

Not only my parents, but my entire extended family showered me with affection.

I grew up feeling special, protected, and cherished.

My younger brother and sister were loving too, and being the eldest child often meant I received support and encouragement from my parents.

Looking back, I realize I was fortunate.

I was born into comfort.

I had love.

I had security.

I had a family that wanted the best for me.

For the first ten years of my life, I believed life would always remain that way.

Then life changed.

When Everything Changed

My father was a businessman.

An accident changed the course of our family's life.

Because of the challenges that followed, he lost the businesses he had built.

Our financial stability disappeared.

We moved to another city and had to start over.

At eleven years old, I had to take an admission test for a new school.

I failed.

The principal decided I should repeat fifth grade.

At that age, it felt humiliating.

I couldn't understand why it had happened.

But what felt like a failure would later become one of the greatest blessings of my life.

The school that accepted me was unlike any I had experienced before.

The teachers didn't simply teach subjects.

They taught values.

Stories.

Character.

Integrity.

Compassion.

Slowly, I transformed.

I became serious about learning.

I participated in activities.

I became one of the top students in school.

For several years, my fees were waived because of my academic performance.

Without realizing it, I was learning one of life's most important lessons:

A setback is not always a setback.

Sometimes it is a redirection.

The Woman Who Refused to Give Up

When I was about to enter tenth grade, another challenge appeared.

The school management changed.

The fee waiver was removed.

My family could not afford the fees.

My father, already carrying the burden of financial struggles, considered stopping my education.

He thought perhaps I could get married after a few years.

But my mother refused to accept that future.

To this day, she remains one of the strongest women I have ever known.

Despite financial difficulties, she somehow managed to celebrate our birthdays.

She bought us new clothes whenever possible.

She walked kilometres carrying our school bags and lunch boxes.

She endured difficulties I only fully understood after becoming a mother myself.

And when my education was threatened, she walked from school to school carrying my certificates and mark sheets.

She met principals.

She requested opportunities.

She searched for a chance for her daughter.

Eventually, another school offered me a free seat.

I studied with everything I had.

And I scored 96 percent in tenth grade.

Whenever people ask me where my resilience comes from, I think of my mother.

The roots of The Conscious Amma were planted long before I became a mother.

They were planted while watching my own mother refuse to give up on her child.

Learning to Keep Going

Intermediate education brought a different set of challenges.

I struggled with sinus problems, migraines, anemia, and health issues that affected my concentration.

Despite that, I scored 82 percent.

Some relatives dismissed my earlier academic success as luck.

They believed my tenth-grade result was a one-time achievement.

I didn't argue.

I simply continued.

Over time, I learned that not every opinion deserves a response.

Sometimes persistence speaks louder than words.

That mindset carried me into engineering.

Finding My Place in the World

Engineering was one of the happiest phases of my life.

I loved learning.

I loved participating in activities.

I loved connecting with people.

I wasn't limited to one group of friends.

I was friendly with everyone.

I genuinely enjoyed helping others.

I graduated successfully and secured a campus placement.

After years of hard work, it felt like a dream coming true.

My professional journey began.

I joined TCS and spent four years learning, growing, and contributing.

What fulfilled me most wasn't technology itself.

It was helping people.

Whenever someone thanked me for solving a problem, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction.

I loved being useful.

I loved contributing.

Later, I achieved another dream.

I joined Oracle.

At that point, I felt life was finally moving according to plan.

I had overcome financial struggles.

Built a successful career.

And achieved goals I once only dreamed about.

But life still had lessons waiting for me.

Marriage, Lockdown, and a New Life

In 2020, I got married.

Almost simultaneously, I joined Oracle.

Within days, the world entered lockdown.

Suddenly, I found myself navigating:

A new marriage.

A new city.

A new family.

A new job.

And a global pandemic.

All at once.

Before marriage, I had carried a fear for many years.

I worried about ending up in a relationship that didn't feel right for me.

When I met my husband, something felt different.

He was the first person who looked directly into my eyes during our traditional meeting.

I felt a connection.

His family initially rejected my profile because of my complexion.

But he remained committed and convinced them over many months.

That experience strengthened my respect for him.

Marriage brought companionship.

But it also introduced challenges I had never experienced before.

Traditional expectations.

Family dynamics.

Adjustments.

Loneliness.

Pressure.

And eventually, fertility struggles.

The Silent Weight of Expectations

I was diagnosed with PCOS.

Pregnancy did not happen immediately.

Questions started coming.

Suggestions started coming.

Pressure started building.

Like many women, I found that the focus was almost entirely on me.

Only much later were other possibilities explored.

After many tests, treatments, prayers, and emotional ups and downs, I conceived in 2022.

To me, it felt like grace.

Around the same time, we purchased a home.

The process brought financial pressure, disagreements, legal disputes, and emotional stress.

Pregnancy was not the peaceful phase I had imagined.

I often felt isolated.

Overwhelmed.

And emotionally exhausted.

The Birth of Naksh

In December 2022, my son Naksh entered the world.

The delivery became complicated.

His heartbeat increased.

The situation became urgent.

Eventually, I underwent an emergency C-section.

The moment I knew he was safe, I felt immense relief.

But my own journey was just beginning.

Recovery was difficult.

I spent time in intensive care.

The physical healing took months.

The emotional healing took longer.

No one prepared me for postpartum.

No one prepared me for the loneliness.

The guilt.

The exhaustion.

The identity shift.

The constant pressure.

The feeling of losing yourself while caring for someone you love more than life itself.

I adored my son.

Yet there were days I cried while holding him.

Days I felt completely overwhelmed.

Days I wondered what had happened to the confident woman I once was.

The Years I Almost Lost Myself

The years after Naksh's birth were among the hardest of my life.

I was trying to balance motherhood, marriage, family expectations, work responsibilities, sleep deprivation, and emotional overload.

There were conflicts.

Differences in parenting beliefs.

Unsolicited advice.

Criticism.

Isolation.

And very little time to process what I was experiencing.

I often left home for work before my son even woke up.

I returned late in the evening.

Many nights I skipped dinner.

Many nights I barely slept.

Naksh woke frequently.

I breastfed him for almost twenty-two months.

Prepared bottles during the night.

Comforted him back to sleep.

And repeated the cycle again and again.

I loved him deeply.

But I was exhausted.

I desperately wanted support.

Not control.

Not criticism.

Support.

Instead, I often felt misunderstood.

I felt trapped between obedience and authenticity.

Between keeping the peace and speaking my truth.

There were moments when I became so overwhelmed that I harmed myself in frustration because I felt completely unable to make others understand what I was carrying inside.

Looking back now, I can clearly see that I was dealing with postpartum depression, chronic stress, sleep deprivation, and emotional burnout.

At the time, I simply believed I was failing.

I wasn't failing.

I was struggling.

And there is a difference.

The Child Behind the Behaviour

One of the greatest lessons came much later.

For a long time, I thought I was the only one struggling.

Eventually, I realized that Naksh was struggling too.

His earliest years were spent in an environment filled with emotional tension, conflicts, stress, and isolation.

Because of work schedules and circumstances, I often left home before he woke up and returned late.

He spent most of his time with adults rather than children.

He had limited social interaction.

He became deeply attached to me and struggled whenever I was away.

For a long time, I interpreted his behaviour as difficult.

Today, I see it differently.

He wasn't giving me a hard time.

He was having a hard time.

That realization changed everything.

The Unexpected Blessing

Then something happened that many people would have considered a disaster.

I lost my job.

But it wasn't because of poor performance.

I had spent more than twelve years building a successful career.

At Oracle, I consistently received strong performance ratings, bonuses, hikes, stock benefits, and appreciation from customers.

I genuinely enjoyed helping people solve problems.

I was good at my work.

The layoff was simply part of larger organizational changes and the industry's shift toward AI-driven transformation.

Strangely, my first emotion wasn't fear.

It was relief.

For years, I had secretly wished for more time.

More space.

More breathing room.

More presence with my son.

But I never felt brave enough to walk away from a stable career.

Then life made the decision for me.

And it happened at the perfect time.

I had financial security.

Savings.

Provident fund.

Gratuity.

Career experience.

I wasn't starting from zero.

For the first time in years, I had both time and security.

Initially, I planned to take a break and focus entirely on Naksh.

But after the exhaustion slowly lifted, curiosity returned.

And curiosity changed my life.

The Conversation That Changed Everything

During one of the lowest periods of my life, I called a support helpline.

A Telugu-speaking woman listened patiently as I poured out everything I had been carrying.

Before ending the call, she said something simple:

"You're unconsciously being negative all the time.

You're repeatedly thinking negatively about yourself.

You're stuck in a loop of negative self-talk.

Be positive consciously.

Even if negative thoughts come, choose positive thoughts again.

If you stop, start again.

Don't wait for perfection.

Just begin again."

The interesting thing is that I had heard similar advice many times before.

From books.

From coaches.

From spiritual teachers.

But this time it landed differently.

Maybe I had reached my breaking point.

Maybe I was finally ready to listen.

For the first time, I became aware of how often I was repeating negative stories to myself.

Why is this happening to me?

I can't handle this.

My child is difficult.

My life is difficult.

I'm failing.

And then I saw something clearly.

The circumstances were difficult.

But my constant negative narration was making them even heavier.

That realization became a turning point.

Not overnight.

Not magically.

But thought by thought.

Choice by choice.

Day by day.

I started consciously choosing positivity.

Consciously choosing gratitude.

Consciously choosing growth.

Consciously choosing responsibility.

And that was the beginning of my transformation.

Becoming Conscious

I returned to spiritual practices.

I completed Shambhavi Mahamudra.

I worked with coaches.

I began writing.

I started observing myself.

My reactions.

My emotions.

My parenting.

My patterns.

Slowly, life began changing.

Not because circumstances changed overnight.

But because I did.

One day, a basket of laundry became a game between Naksh and me.

Another day, a fallen banana became an opportunity for creativity instead of frustration.

I stopped asking:

"Why is my child making life difficult?"

And started asking:

"What is this moment trying to teach me?"

Those small shifts transformed my home.

When Toys Couldn't Replace Connection

After moving to Bangalore, I often tried to compensate for my guilt the way many loving parents do.

I bought toys.

Lots of toys.

Every week there seemed to be something new.

Educational toys.

Activity toys.

Developmental toys.

By the time we moved, there were boxes filled with them.

Yet something felt strange.

He rarely played with them.

What he wanted wasn't another toy.

What he wanted was connection.

As my healing journey progressed, I stopped trying to entertain him and started involving him.

Laundry became participation.

Cooking became participation.

Daily life became connection.

And slowly, both of us started healing together.

Perhaps that was one of the biggest lessons of all.

Children do not always need more things.

Sometimes they simply need more of us.

The Birth of The Conscious Amma

I began writing.

Not to build a brand.

Not to start a business.

But to make sense of my experiences.

I shared stories.

Simple stories.

Real stories.

Stories about parenting, emotions, awareness, and growth.

People connected with them.

Mothers reached out.

Friends started asking questions.

Conversations began.

Community formed.

I explored coaching.

Completed a parenting coach certification.

Learned AI tools.

Started creating content.

And slowly, The Conscious Amma was born.

Not as a business.

But as a mission.

My Mission Today

Today, my mission is simple.

I want mothers to know they are not alone.

I want them to know that struggling does not mean failing.

I want them to understand that motherhood is not about perfection.

It is about awareness.

Connection.

Growth.

And conscious choices.

I believe that when mothers heal, families heal.

When parents become conscious, children flourish.

And when we stop reacting and start responding, ordinary moments become opportunities for transformation.

The challenges that once felt like they were breaking me were actually shaping me.

Every setback carried a lesson.

Every struggle revealed a strength.

Every chapter prepared me for the next.

And now, I hope my story can remind other mothers of something important:

You do not have to be perfect.

You do not have to have all the answers.

You only need the willingness to stay conscious, keep growing, and begin again.

That is the journey I am on.

And that is the journey behind The Conscious Amma.