The Day I Sat With My Own Pain

There was a time I believed rest had to be earned.

In my early days as a clinical psychologist, I carried the pain of others with quiet pride thinking my strength was in never breaking, never needing, never slowing down. I offered calm to children in distress, support to women unraveling in silence, and held space for those society had forgotten.

But somewhere along the way, I forgot myself.

I forgot the body that was always tired, the chest that stayed tight, the breath that never deepened. I became so good at helping others feel seen that I no longer remembered what it felt like to be witnessed myself.

Until one day, I broke down not in a dramatic, falling-to-the-floor kind of way. No. It was quieter than that.

I just couldn’t get out of bed.

I stared at the ceiling as tears came, not from a singular event, but from years of carrying unspoken sorrow mine and others’. I realized then: caring for myself wasn’t selfish. It was survival. And more than that it was a necessary act of resistance in a world that teaches women to give until there's nothing left.

That morning, I sat with my own pain like I sit with my clients gently, curiously, without judgment.

I lit a candle. I breathed. I listened.

I didn't try to fix it.

I just let myself be held by myself.

Since then, my definition of self-care has changed. It's no longer a checklist or luxury. It’s choosing to rest even when the to-do list screams louder. It’s surrounding myself with sisters who remind me I don't have to hold everything alone. It’s creating Aahung by Aqsa, a space not only for others’ healing but for my own renewal, too.

Collective care is a radical act.

It’s building communities where vulnerability isn’t weakness but wisdom. Where burnout isn’t normalized. Where we hold each other with softness, where silence becomes song, and where nobody has to pretend to be okay to belong.

So today, I ask:

How can we show up for ourselves the way we show up for the world?

How do we allow one another to rest, to cry, to come undone without shame?

Let us be the generation that redefines strength.

Let us remember: we cannot pour from an empty cup, but together we are a river.

If this resonates, I’d love to hear how you care for yourself or wish to be cared for. Your story is safe here.

#CaringForOurselves #CollectiveHealing #MentalHealthMatters #WorldPulse