Shahab Saqib
Bio
Doctor. Researcher. Storyteller. I write from the soul—where words heal, silence speaks, and hope rises. My mission: to touch hearts, awaken minds, and serve humanity with truth and light.
Stories (2)
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🎙️ CHAPTER 1: The Poison of Negative Thinking...... “Break Free: Healing the Mind Through Faith, Science, and Self-Belief”
Chapter 1: The Poison of Negative Thinking “The greatest battle you will ever face is not outside—it's within.” “If your own mind imprisons you, no kingdom, no dream, no love can ever set you free." (Pause)
By Shahab Saqib 7 months ago in Journal
Between Silence and Strength
Between Silence and Strength: A Journey of Self-Discovery Life’s storms don’t always come with thunder. Sometimes, they arrive in silence—subtle yet seismic, shaking the very ground beneath us. For me, that storm was the year 2023. A time when everything I had planned quietly fell apart, and the only thing louder than the silence was the aching inside me. But within that stillness, something unexpected happened. I found strength—not the kind that roars or boasts, but a gentle, resilient kind that rises from brokenness. That year didn’t destroy me. It transformed me. Growing Up in a World of Noise From childhood, I was taught that success had a formula: education, career, respect. Society measured worth in degrees, salaries, and applause. So, I followed the path laid before me—checking boxes, chasing validation, silencing doubts. But even with achievements to my name, I often felt empty. Not because I had failed—but because I had forgotten who I truly was. I was wearing masks, living up to expectations that never felt like my own. Beneath it all, I was exhausted and unheard. We are taught to be everything for everyone—strong for our families, accomplished for society, composed for the world. But somewhere in that performance, I lost sight of myself. The Year That Almost Broke Me 2023 didn’t crash down with a single tragedy—it unraveled slowly. Plans fell through. People I trusted drifted away. My phone, once filled with calls and messages, fell quiet. And so did I. There were nights I sat beneath the stars, wondering what went wrong. Was I not good enough? Had I failed some invisible test? The silence began to echo with questions I wasn’t ready to answer. But I didn’t numb the pain. I sat with it. I cried—not because I was weak, but because my soul needed release. I learned that tears are not a sign of defeat. They are sacred. They mean we’re alive. They mean we still care. What Silence Taught Me In the stillness, I stopped pretending. I listened to the quiet voice inside—the one that had been silenced for years. From that silence, I drew lessons that reshaped me: 1. To Feel Is to Heal: Emotions aren’t weaknesses. They are wisdom in disguise. Grief, fear, joy—they all belong. 2. My Worth Is Not Up for Debate: I am more than my achievements. I have value simply because I exist. 3. Solitude Is Sacred: Being alone is not the same as being lonely. In solitude, I heard my own voice for the first time in years. 4. Faith Is a Lifeline: Even when everything felt uncertain, faith reminded me that the journey was still unfolding. A Message to the Brokenhearted If you’re reading this and you feel lost, hopeless, or invisible—please know, you are not alone. Your pain is real. Your silence is valid. And your story is not over. Healing doesn’t follow a timeline. Growth doesn’t come with applause. Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is simply breathe and let yourself feel. You don’t have to prove your pain. You don’t have to rush your recovery. Let your wounds breathe. Let your heart rest. You are allowed to begin again—as many times as you need. Rising, Gently I’m still on this journey. Still learning. Still healing. But now I move with softer steps and stronger faith. Life isn’t about constant noise and performance. It’s about presence, grace, and resilience. You don’t have to rise like a warrior every day. Sometimes, rising at all is enough. Sometimes, surviving the silence is a victory of its own. And So I Write I write because my story may echo someone else’s pain. I write to remind you—and myself—that we are not broken beyond repair. We are simply unfolding. And if my words reach even one broken soul today, then this silence was worth enduring.
By Shahab Saqib 7 months ago in Motivation
