SaadAs years pass and our roles and paths multiply, we often find ourselves drifting. Our priority matrix becomes blurred, and we fall prey to the crushing weight of work and self-reproach. A bitter question lingers: “Am I falling short, or am I simply overwhelmed? Is work truly devouring my time, or am I escaping from real achievement by wasting hours on trivialities?”
This was the conversation I had with myself as I looked back with a heavy heart at my books, my library, my blog, and my old interests. To be fair, I am not who I used to be. My PhD journey has taken a rugged turn; weekly meetings with my supervisory team demand a constant flow of results, and with each passing week, the tasks grow more complex. Add to that the burden of teaching يعف in a distant region that consumes entire days, alongside side projects that must be completed.
These paths do not just drain my time—they drain my focus. And that is the crux of the matter. Whatever time remains is left with almost zero mental clarity. I found myself in desperate need of a flexible psychological and mental management strategy to navigate this overwhelming number of “open doors.”
Recently, a breakthrough occurred. I joined a reading challenge that brought me back to my old passion with a “minimum viable goal”—one book a month. In my current stage, I consider this a sufficient and satisfying achievement. Oh, the beauty of reading and its profound rewards! The first book, The Alchemist, mended my resolve and renewed my energy to pursue my dreams. The second, Atomic Habits, was the sword that shattered the myth of “not having enough time.”
This book instilled in me a conviction that everything is possible through consistency and starting with calm, balanced, “tiny” habits. The greatest killer of our resolve is often our excessive expectations and the fleeting fever of initial enthusiasm. Consequently, I decided to abandon the exhausting “sprint” mode—like preparing for a PhD meeting in one long, grueling day—and replaced it with allocating daily hours spread over several days with ease and balance. Instead of devouring half a book in two days then stopping for weeks, I now choose to read just a few pages daily.
Even this blog, which I almost abandoned and thought of closing despite the years of memories it holds, I have decided to revive with a weekly post whenever possible. These are simple steps, yet they achieve progress and reconcile me with myself. It is a journey of staying mindful of “surplus time,” protecting it from the furnace of smartphones that consume our lives without us realizing.
I have begun to feel the shadows of a profound truth: life is made of seasons. Age leaves an inevitable mark on our souls, our energy, our thinking, and our priorities. When one leaves their twenties and thirties—the prime of life—and becomes bound by the responsibilities of home, family, and career, the matter becomes even more complex if they decide to climb the academic ladder toward higher studies.
To be honest, there is no feeling more difficult than playing the role of a “student” again after having surpassed that stage, especially when you are simultaneously a teacher or a professional. You find yourself slipping away from a social gathering to finish a late assignment, or losing sleep over a grade, or perhaps dreading a certain professor and avoiding their class. These are scenes you thought were folded away with your undergraduate degree, yet they return to haunt your reality during graduate school.
Although I have—thankfully—covered most of the distance and am nearing the finish line, I record everything I have faced today for the sake of memory, and as a reference for anyone walking this rugged path; a path that begins with pain and bitterness but ends—God willing—in achievement and pride.
Ultimately, life’s ambitions will always be greater than our years; we will never grasp the full extent of our hopes, no matter how long we live. Every stage has its dreams, and every station its aspirations. But what is essential at this stage of life is to set the compass with precision and verify every path before walking it. Time is limited, life is fast, and energy and focus are resources that quickly deplete—and the hammer of regret is merciless.
I advise myself—in the midst of this self-awakening and attempt to mend past mistakes—to be content with the minimum for the sake of consistency, and to embrace calm and patience without rushing results. I advise myself not to care for the opinions of others when the price is your own peace of mind, and to build convictions based on your inner vision rather than the fleeting impressions of passersby. Finally, never miss an opportunity for a new experience or to step out of your comfort zone out of fear; for every opportunity you say “no” to today out of fear, you may regret tomorrow.
These are not merely polished words, but the features of a journey in which I am trying not to lose my compass and to make peace with my steps, no matter how small they may seem.
May you always live with renewed passion.
