I used to be someone who never enjoyed going out alone. The thought of doing things by myself made me anxious, so I avoided it altogether. I depended on others for almost everything.
But this year, as an act of choosing myself, I took my first step: I went to my internship at The Orange Room alone. Later, as a small birthday challenge during my internship there, I walked into a restaurant by myself and ate alone. It sounds simple, but for me, it was monumental.
The fear of doing things alone didn’t come from nowhere. In my childhood, my parents had to split their attention between me and my sister because we were only one and a half years apart. I was a clingy, difficult child who wouldn’t go to anyone, and in that chaos, many of my needs slipped through unnoticed.
I grew up insecure, guarding my inner world so tightly that I became less expressive. My emotions stayed locked inside. I couldn’t show anger, couldn’t ask for help, and every time I felt low, I simply went quiet. Even getting attention made me uncomfortable, because receiving it felt unfamiliar.
I was bullied for my skin colour, and each hurtful comment pushed me deeper into silence. I convinced myself that I had to handle everything alone – not because I wanted to, but because I thought no one else would understand. Asking for help didn’t even feel like an option.
Somewhere along the way, I searched for a course that felt alive – something that wouldn’t drain me. That’s when I discovered psychology. But deep down, psychology had been meant for me all along. I wasn’t expressive, yet I always encouraged others to open up. Whenever someone shared their pain with me and felt even a little lighter afterward, it made me feel whole. What I lacked growing up, I unconsciously tried to become for others.
But life eventually pressed too hard. I reached a point where I couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Days felt heavy, food tasted like nothing, and nights terrified me. I dreaded the darkness. And even then, I didn’t reach out. I survived it alone- barely, but I survived.
And surviving taught me something I had never considered: doing everything alone wasn’t strength. I wasn’t “handling it”; I was breaking.
Until one day, everything inside me erupted. I acted out of bottled emotions I had ignored for years – and that moment changed everything.
I realised that suppressing emotions doesn’t make us strong; it fractures us from within. Asking for help isn’t weakness. It’s bravery. It’s choosing to live.
During my internship at The Orange Room, things began to shift. For the first time, I stepped into a space built on listening, empathy, and emotional safety. I began understanding myself with more clarity and learned how to support others in the ways I always wished someone had supported me.
The Orange Room didn’t just teach me; it allowed me to become the person I needed when I was younger.
Today, I’m learning to express my feelings with honesty, to accept myself with gentleness, and to trust that vulnerability is a path to healing. I’m grateful that I can now offer others the understanding and space I once lacked.
And I realise that life isn’t perfect even now – but I’m brave enough to heal, grow, and live.
~ Asiya
