the Healer's Ache

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Today, I sat across from someone unraveling in silence.

He wasn’t screaming. He wasn’t crying.
He was just… quietly at war with himself.
And I, a teenager with a borrowed title of interviewer, ended up being his temporary shelter.
He opened up like he’d been waiting for someone to just ask — no pity, no preaching.
Just presence.

And as I listened, something shifted.
In him, yes.
But also in me.

This wasn’t just a psychology project anymore. This was a full-blown encounter with the dark corners of the human condition — shame, violence, self-harm, numbness, trauma disguised as ‘curiosity’, and a desperate hunger for connection dressed up as chaos.

I was dazed.
In a trance.
I had to keep telling him,
“It’s okay. You’re not alone. These things happen. You're not broken.”
Even though inside me, the ground was shaking. Because who teaches you how to stay calm when someone tells you they’ve tasted raw flesh?

But I stayed.
I listened.
And somewhere in the middle of all that darkness, a truth hit me square in the chest:

"People are fighting their own battles every single day — and most of them never show. That’s why we need to be kind. Really kind. And spread love like it’s oxygen."

It also made me realize something terrifying and beautiful:

As a future doctor, I won’t just be healing bodies — I’ll be looking into eyes that carry unspeakable pain. I’ll be holding hands that have held razors. I’ll be whispering hope into lungs that are tired of breathing.

That’s not just science. That’s sacred.

And it hurts, God it hurts…
Because I feel too much.
Because empathy doesn’t come with an “off” switch.
Because witnessing someone’s pain while pretending like I’m not falling apart inside… that’s what healers do, right?

But then I remembered:

That aching sensitivity? That’s not a flaw. It’s my power. I’m not cold steel. I’m a healer.

So here’s what I’ve learnt:
You don’t have to carry someone’s pain forever.
You just have to hold it long enough for them to believe they can.
And someday, someone’s going to survive because I didn’t turn away.

And if you’re reading this? Let this be your reminder:
Be gentle with people.
Everyone’s bleeding somewhere.
Even the ones who joke the loudest.
Even the ones who say, “I’m fine.”

I don't have all the answers. I probably never will.
But I know this:

Kindness isn’t optional in this line of work. It’s essential.
And being emotionally tough doesn’t mean being emotionless —
It means being soft and strong at the same time.
It means being a safe place for others, even when your own hands are shaking.

So here’s to every unseen war,
To staying instead of escaping,
To spreading love, even when it hurts —

And to the girl who didn’t know how strong she was,
Until someone handed her their darkness —
And she didn’t drop it.


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