Reaching Out: The Pain and Purpose in Helping Others

Reaching Out: The Pain and Purpose in Helping Others Recently, Maahir told me that a friend of his had reached out, worried about her roommate—a young woman from Pakistan who’s been struggling with depression and anxiety. In her pain, she’s turned to alcohol, and Maahir’s friend was genuinely concerned for her well-being. As he told me her story, it stirred something in me. I knew I wanted to help. Without hesitation, I reached out to her parents, hoping to connect them with what was happening in their daughter’s life. They shared their own heartache; they’d been trying to bring her back home to Pakistan for some time. Her father even traveled to the U.S. once to bring her back, but she refused, determined to stay, convinced that leaving would mean giving up on her independence. This resonated deeply with me because it reminded me so much of our journey with Sana’s mental health. Sana, too, struggled with depression and anxiety, and living alone in New York didn’t make it easier. But like so many of her generation, she was driven by a desire to stand on her own, to live independently. No matter how much we wanted her close, she needed to feel she was on her own two feet. And while I would have moved mountains to help her, I also respected her need to try things her way. It was a constant push and pull between wanting to protect her and giving her space to grow. Talking to this young woman on the phone was a bittersweet experience. Her voice held a familiar tone—perhaps a touch of the same evasiveness Sana used to have when discussing her struggles. The pain she was holding close mirrored Sana’s, and as we spoke, memories I thought I’d buried came flooding back. It was like opening a Pandora’s box of our journey with Sana: the phone calls, the sleepless nights, the deep ache of watching a loved one struggle from afar. Yet, amid this flood of memories, there was also a quiet sense of relief. In reaching out to her family, I felt a connection to our own story, a reminder of how fragile mental health can be and how vital it is for those in pain to have support. It was as if, in a small way, I was able to do something that might make a difference—even if only to remind this young woman that she’s not alone, and there are people who care deeply for her. This experience has made me more certain that I want to do something meaningful in this space. I am ready to be there for anyone else who might need a lifeline, to use the knowledge and understanding I gained through our journey with Sana to bring hope to others. The pain of our memories will always linger, but in the midst of it, there is also a sense of purpose—a purpose I believe Sana would be proud of.