Growing up between Dallas and Bengaluru is not like hopping between two cities. It feels like living in two completely different emotional climates. Two languages. Two expectations. Two versions of yourself that sometimes feel like they are competing for attention in your mind.

Until two months ago, I had spent my entire life in Bengaluru. I moved to Dallas recently, and suddenly, my wardrobe became a small symbol of my transition: four school shirts—three from Bangalore, one from the US. That single shirt felt like a tiny passport between worlds, reminding me how much I was carrying from home into a completely new environment.

In Bengaluru, I was the girl who could sit quietly in a family gathering, soaking in the subtle cues of conversation, who loved the intricate patterns of Carnatic music, and who found comfort in familiar rituals. In Dallas, I was learning new hallways, new accents, new ways of making friends, and trying not to lose my own voice in the process.

For a long time, I thought living between worlds would confuse me. But it didn’t—it shaped me. I started noticing patterns. Why did I suddenly become quieter in one environment? Why did a small misunderstanding make me feel like I didn’t belong anywhere? Psychology offers answers. Our minds are wired to adapt to our surroundings. Sometimes we carry one version of ourselves from one world to another even when it isn’t necessary.

I remember my first day at my American school. I spoke softly, trying not to draw attention to my accent. Back in India, I could command a room with my voice. At the time, I thought I was shy. Years later, I realized it wasn’t shyness—it was my nervous system trying to keep me safe. Biology was doing its thing, not my personality.

Shame made things trickier. Feeling judged in one place often made me overperform in the other. Feeling misunderstood could make me withdraw completely. I was carrying a quiet version of myself like a secret backpack across continents. And honestly, it was exhausting.

Journaling helped me untangle these thoughts. I started asking myself: which parts of me belong to Bengaluru? Which belong to Dallas? And which parts belong nowhere but inside me? Slowly, I realized that identity isn’t a choice between two cultures. It is the process of weaving them together into a version of yourself that feels whole, grounded, and free.

Music became my bridge. Singing Carnatic songs in Dallas classrooms reminded me of home. Writing gave voice to my Dallas experiences alongside my Bengaluru memories. I stopped seeing my two worlds as opposing forces. They were two mirrors reflecting different strengths.

Here is the teen-friendly truth: confusion is normal. Feeling lost between cultures doesn’t mean you are broken. It means your brain is learning to hold multiple truths at once. Your worth isn’t measured by how perfectly you adapt. Your identity isn’t about choosing one world over the other. It is about embracing both.

These experiences are shaping me as I prepare to publish my debut book, Mind Mahatva – The Teen Mind Matters. Writing this book has given me a way to share my journey, the lessons I’ve learned, and the ways teens can navigate identity, emotion, and mental well-being across cultures. It feels incredible to see my thoughts take shape on pages that others will soon read and relate to.

If you are growing up between worlds, you are not torn in two. You are a remix, a mashup, a unique playlist of experiences. Confusion is just your mind buffering greatness. Embrace it. Own it. You do not need to pick one identity. You get to be all of you at once.