Every day, I do the school run for my daughter. Along the way, I make it a point to stay aware of my surroundings, always trying to be polite and kind. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had a habit of smiling at strangers, even if they don’t smile back. It’s something that has always stayed with me.

During my routine, I often see other mums, including one in particular with whom I felt a connection. We never exchanged numbers, but we would chat about our children. Her son is high-functioning autistic, so we would exchange stories and talk about the support available in schools—the usual small talk—before going our separate ways. 

Yesterday, I ran into her again. We asked each other how the kids were and then how we were doing. At that moment, she went silent. I looked at her and asked,

“Hey, are you okay?”

She tried to brush it off, saying, “Oh, it’s just marriage problems.”

But then, her tears began to fall. I could feel her pain.

I stopped and asked if she wanted to share, but told her it was fine if she didn’t feel ready.

She cried openly then, so I paused and hugged her, whispering, “Everything will be okay. You’ve got this, and you’re not alone.”

She briefly shared what was going on between her and her husband, and I felt a sudden stab in my heart. My PTSD was triggered, and I was taken back to those moments when I was in her exact position—holding my child, crying, and feeling utterly alone.

There wasn’t much I could do since we barely knew each other, but I hugged her again and suggested we exchange numbers. I told her if she ever needed someone to just listen, I’d be there. I also tried to encourage her by saying that although our experiences are similar, her feelings are completely valid. I told her to let herself feel the pain, to cry as much as she needed to, and to process everything. But I also reminded her not to stay there forever. After processing it, she must take small steps to move forward.

I acknowledged how daunting and lonely it can feel, but assured her she would come out stronger, and this pain would become a memory of how she persevered. Before becoming a mother, she was a human being, and she deserves to comfort herself first so that her pain doesn’t spill onto her children.

After we parted, I saw her again later when we picked up our kids, as we usually catch the same bus. She looked much better and thanked me.

I replied, “Don’t thank me. I just did what any human should do for another.”

The point of this story is that I’m on my healing journey, rediscovering myself. I’d like to believe I’ve passed the hardest phase of accepting my flaws, ignorance, and mistakes. I’ve acknowledged my negative traits, but now I’m exploring my positive ones, which is harder. Why? Because after years of emotional and physical abuse, I’ve never felt safe. I’ve always lived in survival mode. Positive words or validation were rare, so for me, accepting the good within myself is a struggle.

So far, the only positive trait I’ve accepted is that I’m an empath. I feel others’ energy deeply, visualizing their stories and emotions within my mind and body. It’s something hard to explain, and I don’t expect many to understand. But I’m someone who feels more than I should, on a very deep level. I don’t just have conversations; I analyze the words people choose, their body language, and even their eyes. Strangely, I’ve been told I never make eye contact. It’s true—I can’t hold a gaze for more than a few seconds. It makes me feel uncomfortable and scared, likely due to trauma. As a child, I was often told I had beautiful eyes, but I never believed it.

While on this healing path, I’ve learned that even though I get drained by negative energy and stories, I’m resilient. It might take me a few days to recover, but I always bounce back, ready to help again. Despite my struggles, I want to be there for others who feel alone because kindness, empathy, and compassion create ripples that slowly become waves. It should be done without expectation and without breaking your boundaries. Boundaries are crucial—they protect you from being hurt while allowing you to help without being taken advantage of.

There’s a difference between being kind and being a people-pleaser. People-pleasing comes from wanting validation and attention, with no boundaries, making it easy for others to manipulate you. True kindness, on the other hand, comes from a place of strength. When you set firm boundaries, you can still be empathetic and supportive without compromising your peace.

At the end of the day, we all have different paths, different journeys, and different levels in life. But that doesn’t mean we can’t take a moment to uplift and inspire someone who might need it. Maybe they just need you to listen or offer a hug, to remind them they’re not alone.

I’ve spent my life feeling unsafe, living in a constant state of anxiety that has affected me physically. So, while I’m healing the little girl inside me, I reach out to those who need a hand. I never knew how to comfort someone, especially when they were crying. I didn’t know how to accept compliments or hold a conversation. I was pulled out of school in Year 8 due to family issues and never learned grammar, communication, or kindness in a traditional sense.

Growing up in a toxic environment, you’d think I would have been consumed by the darkness around me. But somehow, I wasn’t. Even as a child, I always saw the good in people, even when the signs said otherwise.

Now, at 35, I’ve managed to find my voice.

I’m learning to say thank you when someone compliments me and accept when someone calls me a good mother. I’m still learning to comfort others because I never had it myself. I fought alone, cried alone, and survived alone.

My life has been a battle of preparing myself to survive in the face of cruelty. So, sharing this isn’t about boasting or making it about myself—it’s to remind others that while we’re all learning, we shouldn’t forget those who are still struggling.

No one should have to live in pain, trauma, or abuse—or feel utterly alone while breaking into pieces. As humans, we’re supposed to lift each other up. Yet, we’re often quick to tear someone down, stuck in negative cycles. For those who are awake and see what I see, please take a moment to notice the people around you. Check in on them. Be kind, be empathetic, be compassionate. It has a ripple effect that will come back tenfold, even if it takes time.

Remember: what you put out into the universe is exactly what you get back.

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Ilma Zaman is 35 and stopped working in 2023 and became a full-time carer of my Autistic daughter who is nonverbal. Whilst I am at home a lot more she started her blog and started making social media content of positive yet uncomfortable conversations around mental health and the daily emotional struggle. She hopes to start a podcast to try to inspire others through healing together. She is a passionate advocate for mental and emotional resilience, dedicated to challenging stigmas and empowering others to confront their struggles head-on. Through powerful storytelling and raw honesty, she aims to illuminate the complexities of mental health, providing a space where strength is found in vulnerability and self-reflection. She strives to inspire transformation, encouraging individuals to break free from societal expectations and embrace their journey with courage and authenticity.