Lessons That Healed Me Then Series

When I turned thirteen, something shifted in me. it was not dramatic on the outside, but internally everything felt rearranged. I was lost in a way I could not articulate. I could not understand my emotions, nor my behavior, nor the sudden cynicism that began to color the way I saw the world. I became negative, sharp, and difficult, and I started affecting the people around me without even noticing.

That period lasted for nearly three years. it is blurry when I try to remember how it started, but I know what it felt like. every sunny day looked grey. I spent most of my time in my room doing nothing in particular. I slept excessively and was always physically drained. my most repeated sentence was I am tired, even when I had done nothing to deserve that exhaustion.

I had one friend during that time, and even him I kept pushing away. he stayed, though I gave him every reason not to. I isolated myself and lived almost entirely in my head. I have rarely revisited that chapter of my life until now. I do not want to examine every corner of it. I want to approach it surgically, carefully, without drowning in it.

When I was around twelve, I had already drifted into nihilism. by fifteen, I had hit what felt like rock bottom. the loud negativity and sarcasm that once defined me slowly transformed into something quieter. I stopped being openly furious and toxic. I became silent instead. from the outside, it might have looked like healing. in reality, I was simply retreating deeper into myself.

I forgot how to interact with people. I did not listen when they spoke. I did not care what they said. my words hurt others, and I was mean in subtle ways. I was filled with pessimism, but I no longer expressed it loudly. I just carried it quietly. no matter how much I distracted myself with online games or learning how to edit videos, the heaviness did not disappear.

The moment that woke me up came unexpectedly. we were in Sudan, returning from a wedding, and my brother’s wife, who was always kind to me, Mihad, asked me gently if something was wrong. she said I looked low in energy. she reminded me that I used to be talkative and now I barely spoke. her words struck me. for a second I felt sorry for myself, not in self pity, but in recognition. I realized I was no longer the version of myself I remembered.

I do not remember the exact catalyst after that, but I know I began reading obsessively. I was searching for something, though I did not yet know it was myself. I did not have anyone to guide me, so I turned to books. some were optimistic. others explored theology, philosophy, or the state of mind. I clung to them as if they were lifelines.

One book in particular stayed with me, the habits of highly effective teenagers. I remember enjoying every page. without realizing it, I began integrating its principles into my daily life. small habits. small shifts in perspective. it was the first form of therapy I ever experienced, even if I did not call it that. slowly, I managed to bring color back into my grey days.

I did not transform overnight. it was gradual. but I drifted away from that dark chapter little by little. I began functioning again. I began participating in life instead of observing it from behind a wall. the misery softened. the numbness eased. something vibrant started to return.

This is the beginning of a series I call Lessons That Healed Me Then. it is not about dramatic breakthroughs. it is about the mindsets and small disciplines that carried me from fifteen to seventeen, when I finally felt able to function again. I will revisit those lessons one by one. I will ask whether they were true healing or simply coping mechanisms. and I will try to understand what part of that teenage boy still lives inside me today.