I Am Alive: My mentor Said

 

I Am Alive: My mentor Said 

From Quiet Numbness to Finding My Voice

The six-year-old me was a social butterfly—chatty, energetic, and curious. But everything shifted the moment my family moved to a new place. It wasn’t the change of address that muted me; it was the sudden realization that the girls around me seemed prettier, smarter, and more aligned with one another in ways I couldn’t compete with.

Naturally, I withdrew. Slowly, the bright, outgoing version of me subsided, replaced by a quieter, almost numb self. My world shrank down to just two companions: Enid Blyton’s books and Nazia Hassan’s music—the pop queen of 1980s Pakistan. They were my escape hatches, my little parallel universes.

And that silence? It stayed with me for a long time. From around age nine until twenty-two—thirteen years of speaking less, observing more, and almost forgetting what it felt like to belong.

But then, as life often surprises us, I met a miracle.

---

Meeting My Mentor (Who Wasn’t “Older and Wiser”)

When I say “mentor,” don’t picture someone decades older, sitting in an office with framed degrees on the wall. My mentor was my age. She was a classmate, a girl with sharper vision, stronger clarity, and a perspective unlike anyone I had ever met in that suffocating new environment.

The way we connected was almost comical. I still remember sitting next to her one day and—despite having trained myself in silence—I simply started talking. Just like that. The girl who had spent years being quiet suddenly leaned over and chatted.

We discovered that we went to the same college, St. Joseph’s, just a year apart. It was the most natural spark of friendship, but what grew from there was extraordinary.

---

How She Changed Me

Our bond wasn’t without arguments—believe me, we clashed plenty. But she was always the one to reach across the fire and melt the ice. That quality alone taught me something about humility, about mending connections instead of letting them burn.

She began to guide me, gently and firmly, toward seeing myself differently. I watched how she noticed details, how she explained a single scene or a stray thought with depth I never imagined. I absorbed her way of looking at the world.

And in that process, I began to discover my own voice again.

The fact that I write today, that I string words into stories, is largely because of her. She held up a mirror, not to what I lacked, but to what I could become.

---

Looking Back

Sometimes I wonder—what if I had never met her? Would I still be stuck in that cocoon of silence, letting Enid Blyton and Nazia Hassan be my only worlds? Or was I always meant to cross paths with someone who would wake me up?

Either way, my story is proof of something universal: the right person at the right time can alter the entire direction of your life.

We often talk about mentors as teachers, coaches, or bosses. But sometimes, mentorship is simply friendship in its purest form—one soul lighting another.

---

✨ Tags/Keywords (SEO-friendly): mentorship, friendship, self-discovery, personal growth, Pakistan 1980s, finding your voice, writing journey, overcoming silence