Meera used to believe that strength meant never needing anyone. That belief nearly cost her the life she now protects with both hands.
Her turning toward help included a trusted doctor, a support group, and a neighbour who brought extra tea without asking for explanations. Healing was not instant. It was appointments kept, sleep rebuilt, and a notebook of reasons to stay: her niece’s laugh, monsoon evenings, unfinished paintings.
Today she volunteers with youth wellness workshops. She does not romanticise pain. She talks about hope as a practice: one message sent, one meal eaten, one night survived.
“If you are reading this in the dark,” she writes, “borrow my morning until yours returns.”