13th March 2025.....

standing at the door ...refusing to fall!!!

It’s last day of march today.
It has never been just another date on the calendar for me. it feels like standing at the edge of a battlefield after months of silent wars- counting wounds, measuring losses and still trying to gather enough courage to pick up the sword again.

For the past two years, every march has whispered the same story.
another year of struggle, another year of fighting myself, another year of standing between expectations and hope.
And every time, it feels like I am losing a little more than the year before.

An exam that once looked like a dream- a destination slowly turned into a battlefield that demanded sacrifices. Time, sleep, laughter, friendships, hobbies, peace of mind- everything was placed on the altar of ambition.
And in return, it often felt like life handed me nothing but exhaustion.

Or may be ……. just may be…. I was gaining something invisible.
I did not know then. I am still figuring it out now.

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13th March 2025
There are many dates in life that carve themselves into memory like permanent ink. This was one more addition to that list or say I’d never forget this date.

The day I stood outside the door of my therapist for my very first counselling session.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that one day I would be the person sitting in that chair- the person needing help. I had always been that one who helped others. I had pulled out of their darkest phases, again and again, not once, twice, thrice- but countless times. I had been the listener, the guide, the problem solver - the strong one.
And yet, there I was.

Broken in ways I didn’t even understand.

The day before that appointment was chaos disguised as a normal day. Repeated emotional breakdowns, back-to-back anxiety attacks, uncontrollable emotions, sleepless nights, constant pressure, endless self-expectations- everything collided at once. It felt as if years of suppressed pain had been waiting for the right moment to erupt.
And then it did.

My inner soul simply refused to carry the weight any longer.
So, it collapsed.
Someone has said very right ‘‘Sometimes, even the strongest one needs a shoulder to lean on.’’

So, the next morning, my father decided to take me to a therapist.

I thought the toughest part would be walking into that hospital.
I was wrong.

The toughest moment came when my therapist asked my father a simple question- something ordinary. but his response was anything not ordinary.
he broke down.

Through tears, he said words that pierced deeper than any failure ever could.
“Out of all my children, she is the youngest- yet the strongest. she has guided everyone in this family, even me. And now she is in this state. I can’t afford to see her falling apart like this. Please do something. I can’t watch her suffer.’’

I could hear him sobbing.
but I didn’t have the strength to look into his eyes. I was numb.

However, we collected medicines & came back home in silence- the kind of silence that feels heavier than noise. Noone knows what happened inside the cabin that day.

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That evening, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling for hours.
My mind kept repeating the same question:
What had you planned, Nasreen… & what is happening now?

I had always dreamed of a different moment- a proud one.
I had imagined taking my father to Dholpur house one day, watching him smile with satisfaction, seeing relief in his eyes.

Instead, I had made him stand in a therapist’s ward, concerned for his daughter.
This was not what he deserved.

I have never been someone who intentionally causes pain to others- not even discomfort. I have always tried to protect people around me, to keep them safe emotionally, mentally, physically. That has always been my nature.

And yet, the one person I wanted to protect the most - my father- was the one I saw breaking down because of me. That thought shattered something inside me.

I kept asking myself again and again:

How could you let this happen?
How could you become the reason of his tears?

Whenever anything goes wrong in my life or in the lives of people I love involving me - I automatically blame myself. I become my own hardest critic. I hold myself responsible for everything, even for minute things.
something that has always been my strength that day, felt like my burden.

In that vulnerable state, another painful realization surfaced.
I had lost almost everything.

My mental health was hanging by thread.
My confidence had cracked.
My hopes felt fragile.
My self-expectations - once my biggest driving force -now feels like heavy chains around my neck.

My social life had nearly disappeared.
My hobbies had faded into distant memories.
My life graph looked static - kind of stuck. while the world around me kept progressing.

Every day was the same routine: juggling with books, notes, mocks, schedules, deadlines.
And in return, what did i had in my hands?
Nothing visible.
Nothing measurable.
Nothing certain.

In the deepest corner of my helplessness & vulnerability. I wrote a line that came straight from exhaustion rather than poetry:
At 1:47 am~

‘‘Aye Khuda- ye jo tu kar rha hai, sehna Dushwaar hai.
Dil toh ab thak chuka hai, bta aur kitni Aazmaayisho ki Darkaar hai?’’

At that time, I had no answer to this question.
For the first time in my life, I felt truly helpless.

---

Then came the hardest question of all- the one no exam paper ever asks:

Is it worth it, Nasreen?

Every time I had hit rock bottom in the past, I had always told myself the same thing:

you have faced problems before. You have figured them out before. And you will figure this out too.

But this time felt different. Because this time the battle was not outside. It was inside my own mind. And that is the most exhausting wat a human being can fight. Slowly another truth emerged from the chaos:
Mental health is not a joke, it’s a luxury.
It’s not a weakness. it isn’t something to ignore until it breaks you.
It is survival.

So, I sat with myself & asked one final question:

What do you still have left in your hands?

The answer was surprisingly simple. I had two things left.
Seventy days. And a fighting spirit.
That was it.

No guarantees. No certainty. No perfect conditions.
Just courage & time. And sometimes, that is enough to restart.

I decided that on the basis of these two assets, I would still play my game. even if everything was on stake. Even if the odds are uncertain. Even if the path was exhausting.
Because I realized something powerful in that moment:

If I had become the reason for my father’s tears, I will also become the reason of his smile. I will turn these sad tears into happy one’s.

That possibility was worth fighting for.

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31st March 2025
Today on the last day of march, I finally have an answer to the question I once asked God in despair.
Yes- enduring this pain is difficult. Yes- the journey is exhausting. Yes - the sacrifices are real. But surrender is never an option. Because somewhere beneath the fatigue, beneath the fear, beneath the uncertainty- my fighting spirit is still alive.
And now, my answer is simple, honest & unshaken-
At 3:16 pm~

‘‘Haan sehna dushwaar hai, magar ye dard bhi mujhe qubool hai,
Kyu ki har aazmaish ke baad hi toh sukoon ka dastoor hai.’’

lock in.

~See you🩵

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