breakups
When it comes to breakups, pain is inevitable, but Humans thinks that suffering is optional.
When I Learned Love Doesn’t Always Stay
I used to believe that love, once found, was like a lighthouse—steady, unwavering, guiding you safely through life’s storms. I thought that when two people truly cared for each other, they could weather anything together. I clung to this belief like a child clutching a favorite blanket. But life has a way of gently, and sometimes painfully, teaching us that not all things meant to be will stay forever.
By Habib king6 months ago in Humans
"Stride to Strength: Unlocking the Power of Running for a Healthier Life"
Stride to Strength: Unlocking the Power of Running for a Healthier Life Discover the Incredible Physical, Mental, and Emotional Benefits of Running That Boost Your Well-Being Every Step of the Way --- When Emily laced up her worn-out sneakers one crisp autumn morning, she had no idea that a simple decision would transform her life in ways she had never imagined. Running had always been something she admired from afar—friends who breezed through 5Ks, morning joggers with radiant smiles—but for Emily, it felt out of reach. Years of sedentary habits, stress from work, and the weight of emotional fatigue had clouded her motivation. Yet, that day, something inside her whispered: Just one step. What began as tentative strides around her neighborhood soon evolved into something much more profound. The physical benefits of running started to reveal themselves gradually—her energy levels surged, the heaviness in her legs eased, and the pounds began to melt away. But the transformation went far beyond the physical. Each run became a moving meditation, a chance to reset her mind and reconnect with a vitality she’d long forgotten. Running, Emily discovered, wasn’t just about fitness. It was a powerful tool for holistic well-being. Physically, the act of running strengthens the heart, lungs, and muscles. It increases endurance and improves overall cardiovascular health. Emily felt her body growing stronger with every mile, her posture improving, and her breathing deepening. Scientific studies back this up: running boosts the production of endorphins, often called the body’s “feel-good” chemicals, which help to alleviate pain and induce feelings of happiness. But the mental benefits were even more striking for Emily. Her busy mind, once cluttered with worries and to-do lists, found clarity in the rhythmic pounding of her feet against the pavement. Running became a sanctuary where stress dissolved, anxiety diminished, and her mood lifted. She noticed that even on difficult days, a short run could spark a profound sense of calm and focus. In fact, runners often report improvements in memory, creativity, and cognitive function, all fueled by the increased blood flow and oxygen to the brain. Emotionally, the journey was transformative. Running helped Emily build resilience—not just physically, but emotionally. Each challenge she faced on the trail mirrored challenges in her life: the discomfort of pushing through a tough mile reflected her ability to face fears and setbacks head-on. She learned to celebrate small victories, like running a little farther or faster than the day before. This sense of accomplishment boosted her confidence and self-esteem, making her more hopeful and empowered in daily life. But Emily’s story is not unique. Across the world, millions are unlocking the power of running to enhance their lives. From seasoned marathoners to beginners taking their first tentative steps, running offers a universal path to health and happiness. The beauty of running lies in its accessibility—no expensive equipment or special facilities are required. A pair of shoes and an open road are all it takes. What truly sets running apart, though, is its ability to connect people—to community and to themselves. Emily found support in local running groups where camaraderie flourished and encouragement was abundant. Sharing goals, swapping stories, and cheering one another on turned running into a shared journey rather than a solitary task. This sense of belonging deepened her emotional well-being and provided motivation to keep moving forward. As seasons changed, Emily’s commitment to running grew stronger. She learned to listen to her body, balancing effort with rest, and savoring the simple joys of a sunrise jog or the crisp air of a winter run. Running became a metaphor for life’s journey—sometimes smooth, sometimes challenging, but always moving forward step by step. Her experience offers a compelling message: running is more than exercise—it’s a gateway to a healthier life, enriching body, mind, and spirit. For those hesitant to start, Emily encourages, “Don’t wait for the perfect moment. Start small, be patient, and celebrate every stride. The power of running is waiting for you.” Through running, Emily unlocked a life she never thought possible—a life of strength, joy, and balance. Every step became a testament to the incredible potential within each of us to transform our well-being, one stride at a time.
By Muhammad Saad 6 months ago in Humans
13 Lessons I’ve Learned About Life In Hard Times - But Don’t Ever Seem to Get Right
Originally posted on Medium on May 30, 2021. Sometimes life is good, sometimes life is great, and sometimes life is just really $h!tty. I guess in a way that could be one of the 13 things on this list about what I have learned about life, but I’ll present it to you as an introductory bonus.
By Michael Phillips6 months ago in Humans
"Moments That Made Us: The Brighter Side of History"
Moments That Made Us: The Brighter Side of History History is often told through the lens of war, conquest, and conflict. But if you look closely, scattered across centuries, there are shining moments where kindness, courage, and collaboration quietly reshaped the world for the better. These are the stories that rarely make headlines, yet their impact echoes through time. This is one of them. In a quiet village in the Netherlands during World War II, a schoolteacher named Elise van den Berg found herself surrounded by darkness—Nazi occupation, fear, and uncertainty. But instead of giving in to despair, she turned her tiny classroom into a haven of hope. By day, she taught math and literature. By night, she helped hide Jewish children in the attic above her classroom, sneaking them warm bread and stories to keep their spirits alive. She wasn’t a soldier. She had no weapons. Just a chalkboard, a heart full of compassion, and the courage to resist hatred in the only way she could—by protecting innocence. Elise’s actions weren’t recorded in textbooks, but one of the boys she saved grew up to become a doctor, whose medical breakthroughs later saved thousands of lives. Sometimes, the smallest acts of bravery create ripples that grow into waves of change. Fast forward two decades and another moment was quietly reshaping the world—not through rebellion or resistance, but through collaboration. In 1962, during the height of the Cold War, a small group of scientists from the United States and the Soviet Union met at a neutral conference in Geneva. Tensions between their countries were dangerously high, and the threat of nuclear war loomed. But in a quiet corner of the conference hall, over coffee and broken English, the scientists discovered a shared dream: curing polio. Setting aside politics, they agreed to share research, data, and even live samples of the virus. What came from this unlikely collaboration was the development of a more effective, affordable polio vaccine—distributed globally, saving millions of children. That year, polio cases dropped dramatically. And for a brief moment, enemies found common ground in compassion. History marched on. The Berlin Wall fell. Apartheid crumbled. The Internet was born. Each of these milestones is often framed in political or technological terms. But look again, and you’ll see the human spirit behind them. When the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, it wasn’t just a political victory—it was a celebration of unity. As East met West, strangers hugged, wept, and danced together. In the middle of this joyful chaos was a 21-year-old East German woman named Anika who crossed into West Berlin for the first time. Instead of rushing to buy Western goods like many others, she joined a volunteer group handing out food and water to the elderly struggling in the crowd. “Freedom,” she said later in an interview, “only matters if we use it to lift others up.” It’s easy to overlook these moments—the teacher in hiding, the scientists in Geneva, the young woman with a sandwich in her hands—but they’re the threads that hold history together. In 2015, when the Ebola virus broke out in West Africa, another such moment unfolded. Amid fear and global hesitation, a small team of volunteers from around the world—doctors, nurses, engineers—arrived in Liberia. They weren’t looking for fame. Many had left their families behind. But they brought medicine, knowledge, and most importantly, hope. One of the nurses, Aisha from Kenya, comforted patients not just with treatments but with music. She sang softly in multiple languages, learning songs from each culture represented in the crowded hospital tents. Her music became a symbol of shared humanity. When a 10-year-old boy named Joseph finally recovered, he asked if he could sing too. That moment sparked a nightly tradition where patients and staff sang together under the stars. Grief still existed—but joy found a way to stand beside it. --- These are the moments that made us. Not grand speeches or historic treaties alone, but the quiet courage of everyday people who chose compassion over indifference, who built bridges instead of walls. Their stories may not dominate history books, but they define what it means to be human. So the next time history feels too heavy—too full of pain and division—remember Elise, the teacher. The scientists with coffee-stained papers. Anika with her open arms. Aisha with her songs. And Joseph, singing into the night. Because history isn’t just about what happened. It’s about who we chose to be when it mattered most.
By Muhammad Saad 6 months ago in Humans
The Power of Rest: Unlocking the Psychological Benefits of Quality Sleep
The Power of Rest: Unlocking the Psychological Benefits of Quality Sleep When Maya started her new job at a fast-paced design firm, she felt energized—at first. But as the weeks passed, late-night deadlines, early-morning meetings, and a steadily growing to-do list began to chip away at her sleep. “I’ll catch up on rest this weekend,” she told herself each Friday. But the weekend never seemed long enough. Eventually, her energy dipped, her mood darkened, and even her creativity—the very skill she was hired for—began to falter. What Maya was experiencing is something millions face daily: the psychological toll of poor sleep. While most of us recognize sleep as a biological need, science increasingly shows that it is also a pillar of mental well-being and psychological health. In fact, sleep isn't just something we do when everything else is done—it's a fundamental process that actively restores our minds, balances our emotions, and strengthens our ability to think, learn, and cope. The Brain on Sleep Sleep is more than just rest. It is a dynamic period during which the brain engages in critical activities that impact mood, memory, and mental clarity. During deep stages of non-REM sleep, the brain consolidates memories, processes information, and clears out waste proteins that accumulate during the day—a sort of nightly cleaning service for our neurons. Then there’s REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep, a stage rich with dreams and emotional processing. Studies have shown that during REM sleep, the brain replays emotional events in a safer, dream-like environment, helping us regulate our feelings and reduce stress. That’s why after a solid night’s sleep, a problem can feel smaller or a difficult conversation less upsetting. It’s not just “sleeping on it”—it’s the brain doing emotional housekeeping. Sleep and Mental Health: A Two-Way Street Psychologists often describe the relationship between sleep and mental health as bidirectional. Poor sleep can contribute to mental health issues like anxiety and depression, and those same conditions can in turn disrupt sleep. It becomes a cycle that, if left unchecked, can lead to chronic emotional distress and cognitive decline. But there’s a bright side: improving sleep can directly improve mental health. Cognitive-behavioral therapy for insomnia (CBT-I), for instance, is a highly effective treatment that not only helps people sleep better but often reduces symptoms of anxiety and depression in the process. Dr. Emma Rodriguez, a clinical psychologist specializing in sleep disorders, puts it simply: “Sleep is like a mirror for your mental health. When sleep improves, so does your emotional resilience.” The Hidden Power of Naps and Routines Not all sleep happens at night. Short naps—10 to 20 minutes—can refresh the brain without causing grogginess. In fact, research shows that a well-timed nap can boost memory, enhance creativity, and reduce stress. It’s no surprise that companies and schools in some parts of the world are experimenting with nap pods and flexible rest breaks. But beyond naps, the key to better psychological health through sleep lies in consistency. A regular sleep-wake cycle helps regulate your body’s internal clock, or circadian rhythm, which in turn supports hormone regulation, mood stability, and attention span. Small changes can lead to big improvements: Keeping a consistent bedtime—even on weekends Limiting screen time before sleep Creating a calming pre-sleep routine (like journaling, reading, or meditating) Making the bedroom a sanctuary for rest—cool, dark, and quiet Maya’s Turnaround Maya eventually visited a therapist who specialized in sleep and mental health. Together, they identified how stress and poor sleep were feeding off each other. With some gentle structure, mindfulness practices, and a consistent bedtime, Maya began to feel better—more focused, more hopeful, and, yes, more creative. “I didn’t realize how much sleep was affecting everything,” she says now. “Once I made it a priority, everything else started falling into place.” A Final Thought Sleep is not a luxury. It’s a biological necessity and a psychological superpower. In a culture that often glorifies hustle and late nights, choosing to sleep might feel like falling behind—but the science is clear: sleep helps us show up as our best selves. So tonight, when you rest your head, know that you're not being lazy or unproductive. You're healing. You're growing. And you're giving your brain the care it needs to face tomorrow with clarity and strength.
By Muhammad Saad 6 months ago in Humans
Embracing the Night: Finding Strength in the Shadows
Embracing the Night: Finding Strength in the Shadows When Maya was a child, nightfall brought a sense of quiet panic. The sun’s retreat felt like the closing of a protective curtain, and what came after was a stage for her fears. Shadows morphed into monsters. The ticking of the clock became footsteps. Even the breeze that brushed the curtains felt like something unseen brushing past her. She never told anyone. Fear at night seemed like something people outgrew, and she didn’t want to seem silly or weak. But as she got older, the fear evolved. It no longer came from imagined creatures or strange noises. It became a fear of the unknown, of being alone with her thoughts, of the silence that whispered doubts and insecurities. Even in her twenties, Maya kept a light on in her apartment, not because she couldn’t find her way in the dark—but because she didn’t want to face what might come with it. One evening, after a long and emotionally draining day, Maya found herself walking home later than usual. Her phone was dead, and the familiar streets felt unfamiliar under the weight of night. She had two options: take the busy main road or the quiet path through the park. Something within her urged her to choose the park. It was darker, quieter—but maybe, she thought, that was exactly what she needed to face. As she stepped into the park, a hush wrapped around her like a blanket. The trees swayed gently above her, their branches whispering secrets to the stars. At first, her heart raced with old, familiar fear. Every crunch of gravel underfoot sounded like a warning. But slowly, she started to notice something else. The moonlight painted soft patterns on the ground. A gentle breeze carried the scent of pine and damp earth. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called out—not in alarm, but as if simply announcing its presence. There was no danger, no monster, no judgment. Just the quiet truth of night, calm and present. Maya sat on a bench by the path and closed her eyes. She took a breath. Then another. For the first time, she didn’t run from the darkness—she sat with it. And in that silence, something shifted. She began to realize that fear at night wasn’t just about the dark. It was about vulnerability—being left alone with yourself, your thoughts, your doubts. It’s in the quiet that your inner voice grows loud. But maybe that voice wasn’t meant to scare her. Maybe it was there to teach her. In the following weeks, Maya began to change her relationship with night. She started turning off the lights before bed, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dark. She learned about the science of fear—how our brains are wired to be more alert in the dark as a survival mechanism. It wasn’t weakness; it was biology. But it was also something she could work with, not against. She picked up journaling, especially at night, to process her thoughts. She read about ancient cultures that revered the night as a time of reflection and renewal. In many traditions, the darkness wasn’t feared—it was honored. It was where seeds grew, where ideas formed, where the soul found rest. One night, Maya invited a few friends over for a “darkness dinner.” No lights, just candlelight and conversation about fear, growth, and the hidden gifts of nighttime. They laughed, shared stories, and found common ground. Most of them had feared the night at some point in their lives. But they all agreed—facing it made them stronger. The more Maya embraced the night, the less power her fears held over her. She began to see the darkness not as something to escape, but as something that offered peace, stillness, and even beauty. Her favorite part of each day became the moment she stepped outside before bed, looked up at the sky, and took a deep breath under the stars. That was her reminder: the night, like fear, wasn’t something to be avoided. It was something to be understood. And once understood, it could become a source of strength. --- Moral of the Story: Fear in the night is natural—but it’s also an invitation. When we stop running from it and instead listen to what it’s trying to teach us, we often find courage, clarity, and peace waiting quietly in the dark.
By Muhammad Saad 6 months ago in Humans
Fractured Hearts
Chapter 1: The Unraveling It was a crisp autumn evening when I first met her—Lena. Her laughter was like a melody that warmed the coldest parts of me. We were inseparable, two souls caught up in dreams and love. But as seasons passed, things between us began to change.
By Kamran Zeb6 months ago in Humans
The Psychological Game of Human Connection
The Psychological Game of Human Connection Understanding the Strategies That Bring Us Closer In a sunlit room filled with the hum of quiet conversations, eight people sat in a circle. Some crossed their legs, others leaned forward with their elbows on their knees. There were subtle movements—a smile here, a raised eyebrow there. A silent dance of psychology was unfolding. They had come together for a weekend workshop on communication and emotional intelligence. Most had different reasons for being there. Emma, a school counselor, wanted to connect more deeply with her students. Jamal, a project manager, hoped to improve his leadership. Others, like Lena and Carlos, were simply curious about how humans interact below the surface. At the center of the room was a table with a few simple objects: a deck of cards, a small mirror, and a puzzle missing one piece. These weren't just props; they were tools. The facilitator, Maya, stood beside them. "Every day, we play psychological games," Maya said, her voice calm and steady. "But unlike poker or chess, these games are not about winning. They're about understanding." She picked up the deck of cards and held it up. "Let’s begin." Each card had a prompt: a question, a statement, or a challenge. When it was your turn, you pulled a card and responded honestly. The idea was simple, but the effects were powerful. Emma drew a card: “Share a moment when you felt truly seen.” She paused. “Last year, a student who never spoke much told me, ‘You’re the only one who listens without fixing me.’ I didn’t know I’d made that impact.” There was silence for a moment, but not an empty one—it was full of recognition. Around the circle, people nodded, their expressions softening. This was the first lesson of the game: vulnerability invites connection. Later, Carlos picked a card that read: “Mirror someone’s body language for two minutes and share how you feel.” He mirrored Lena, who had her arms gently folded, a calm tilt to her head. As he did, something shifted. “I feel… more at ease,” he said. “Like I understand her, without words.” Maya smiled. “Exactly. We mirror subconsciously all the time—it’s how we show empathy and build trust. The more aware we are of it, the more intentional our connections become.” The second lesson: empathy is both instinctive and learnable. As the day continued, the group explored other "games"—not competitive, but cooperative. They role-played misunderstandings, practiced active listening, and even engaged in light debates where the goal wasn’t to win, but to truly understand the other person’s viewpoint. One exercise required them to guess each other's emotions without speaking. Jamal, often the loudest in the group, found himself moved when Lena looked at him and gently mouthed, “You’re tired, but still giving.” He hadn’t said a word about how draining his week had been. But somehow, she knew. That moment stuck with him. It reminded him of the third lesson: most communication is nonverbal—and often, what we don’t say matters most. By the final day, something had changed in the group. They no longer sat stiffly or hesitated before speaking. Their psychological games were no longer defenses or performances; they were bridges. Maya gathered them one last time. “You’ve learned how we all play roles, read cues, and navigate unspoken rules. This isn’t manipulation—it’s human nature. The key is awareness. When we understand the game, we don’t use it to win—we use it to connect.” She picked up the puzzle from the table. “This,” she said, pointing to the missing piece, “is each of us. No one’s complete alone. But when we share, listen, and mirror each other with intention, we help one another grow into something whole.” Emma looked around the circle and saw faces she’d only met a day before, but now felt deeply connected to. Not because of shared history, but because of shared honesty. Later, when the group left and went back to their lives, they carried subtle changes with them. Jamal led his next team meeting differently—he listened more, spoke less. Lena called her sister and had the first real conversation they’d had in years. Emma smiled more at her students, not out of politeness, but because she understood what it meant to truly see someone. --- In the end, the psychological game isn’t about cleverness or control—it’s about connection. We’re all playing it, whether we realize it or not. And when we choose to play it with awareness, kindness, and authenticity, we don’t just win—we all grow.
By Muhammad Saad 6 months ago in Humans
Overthinking: The Mind’s Never-Ending Loop
Sophia was known among her friends as the thinker—someone who carefully analyzed every detail before making decisions. She prided herself on being thorough, cautious, and prepared. But recently, her mind had become a relentless maze of questions, doubts, and “what ifs” that left her feeling stuck, anxious, and exhausted.
By Najeeb Scholer6 months ago in Humans
