Azmat Roman ✨
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Stories (158)
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Therapy Didn’t Heal Me — It Helped Me Start Over
I used to believe that healing meant going back to who I was before everything broke. That somehow, through therapy, I would find a way to become her again—the girl who laughed easily, trusted quickly, and didn’t wake up every morning with a knot in her stomach.
By Azmat Roman ✨6 months ago in Psyche
I Didn’t Know It Was Trauma Until I Couldn’t Breathe
I used to think trauma looked like something dramatic. A car crash. A violent assault. War. The kind of stuff you see in movies, raw and loud. I didn’t know trauma could sit quietly inside you, like a sleeping dog. Until one day, it wakes up, snarling.
By Azmat Roman ✨7 months ago in Psyche
I Don’t Want to Be Brave Anymore. I just want to be okay.
I Don’t Want to Be Brave Anymore They call me strong. They say I’m resilient. They admire how I “always bounce back.” But here’s the thing they don’t see: I’m exhausted. And I don’t want to be brave anymore. I just want to be okay.
By Azmat Roman ✨7 months ago in Humans
Being the ‘Strong One’ Nearly Destroyed Me
They called me the “strong one.” It was meant as a compliment, I think. I was the one everyone leaned on. The one who stayed calm in a crisis. The one who didn’t cry at funerals. The one who offered advice, gave rides, picked up the pieces. I was the dependable one. The helper. The fixer.
By Azmat Roman ✨7 months ago in Confessions
They Still Don’t Know Who I Really Am — And I’m Done Explaining
I spent most of my life explaining myself. Justifying my decisions. Smoothing over my rough edges to keep everyone comfortable. I’d rehearse conversations in my head before speaking — making sure my tone wasn’t too sharp, my words not too bold, and my presence not too much.
By Azmat Roman ✨7 months ago in Confessions
How Vocal Media Helped Me Find My Voice in a World That Keeps Telling Us to Be Quiet
In a world full of noise, algorithms, and “content creation” pressure, finding a place where your authentic voice is actually valued—without compromise—feels almost impossible.
By Azmat Roman ✨7 months ago in Motivation
The Secret I Carried for 20 Years Almost Killed Me
They say time heals all wounds, but whoever said that never carried a secret so heavy it suffocated them for two decades. For 20 years, I walked around like a ghost—smiling in pictures, laughing at the right moments, showing up at work, raising a family. On the outside, I was the definition of stability. Inside? I was crumbling. Because every day I woke up with the weight of a lie that clawed at my chest, begging to be let out.
By Azmat Roman ✨7 months ago in Confessions
I Didn’t Burn Bridges — I Just Stopped Crossing Them
There’s a certain strength in silence. Not the kind that shrinks in fear or hides from confrontation, but the kind that says, I’ve had enough, and chooses peace over chaos. That’s what I did. I didn’t scream, I didn’t cause a scene, and I didn’t burn the bridges behind me. I simply stopped crossing them.
By Azmat Roman ✨7 months ago in Motivation
Letting Go Didn’t Break Me — Holding On Did
I used to think that letting go was the ultimate form of defeat. That if I walked away—from a person, a situation, or a version of myself—I was somehow giving up. That strength looked like staying. That love meant holding on, even if my hands were bleeding from the grip.
By Azmat Roman ✨7 months ago in Confessions
I Left the Life Everyone Else Wanted for Me
There was a version of my life that looked perfect from the outside—until I realized it wasn’t mine. I used to think fulfillment came from checking boxes. Get good grades. Land a “safe” job. Settle down with the right person. Buy a house. Maybe have kids. These weren’t just ideas—I had absorbed them like gospel, passed down from family, society, even friends who were all quietly marching to the same beat. And for a while, I marched too.
By Azmat Roman ✨7 months ago in Motivation
Grief Didn’t Shatter Me—It Hollowed Me Out Slowly
Grief Didn’t Shatter Me—It Hollowed Me Out Slowly There’s a lie we often tell ourselves about grief. That it’s a single, explosive moment—a violent wave that crashes into us, breaks us open, and then recedes. But that wasn’t my experience. Grief didn’t shatter me in some cinematic burst of emotion. It didn’t arrive with sobbing in the shower or screaming at the sky. It came slowly. Quietly. Like a whisper that never stopped. Like erosion.
By Azmat Roman ✨7 months ago in Humans
