At some point in our lives, we all pause and ask ourselves, “What is life all about?”
For me, that question wasn’t just a passing thought — it was a constant echo growing up.

I spent much of my childhood feeling like a burden. My parents were unhappy in their marriage, and many of their conflicts came from my mum’s difficult relationship with my grandmother. My grandmother didn’t like my mum — and having me, a daughter, as her first child gave her one more reason to blame her. I didn’t get it at the time, but I could feel it. I could feel that somehow, just being born made things worse.

When I was ten, my mother made the bold decision to send me to New Zealand to study — something she had always dreamed of doing herself. Despite our financial struggles, she pushed for it, hoping I’d have a better future. But that decision came with a silent burden: I had to make it all worth it. I had to succeed — not just for myself, but for them. I convinced myself that if I could just make them proud, maybe it would ease the pain in our family. So I set aside what I truly wanted and chased the dreams they valued.

I didn’t enjoy what I was studying. I wasn’t passionate about pharmacy, but I kept going. I told myself, “Just hold on. One day, this will all be over, and you’ll finally get to live your life the way you want. You’re doing this for your own good.” I repeated those words like a mantra, trying to find purpose in the pressure.

But the question — What is life? — only grew louder.

It hit me hardest when I finally became a pharmacist. I thought I’d feel free. I thought I’d feel proud, fulfilled, maybe even happy. But nothing changed. My parents were still unhappy, and so was I.

One day, I called my dad and poured my heart out. I told him how much I had sacrificed, how I did everything to make them proud. His response stunned me: “I never asked you to do this.”

That moment shook me. I had always seen myself as a prisoner — shackled by expectations. But suddenly, I realized I had been the one holding the key all along. It was my choice. Maybe I felt like I had no other option at the time, but deep down, I was the one who said yes to the path I took. And if I were to go back in time, I’d probably still make the same decision — not because it was perfect, but because I did the best I could with what I knew.

That realization was strangely liberating. For the first time, I felt like I was standing alone in an open field, free to walk in any direction I chose. I was holding the wheel. I had always been.

Sometimes, the people around us — parents, friends, even society — try to steer us toward what they think is best. They push their own dreams and expectations onto us. But here’s the truth: you don’t have to follow their map. They might be disappointed, sure. But the next day, they’ll go back to dealing with their own lives, their own struggles, their own unhappiness. Meanwhile, you’re the one who has to live with your choices.

And if you make decisions based on what others want — and those choices leave you feeling empty — you’re the one who carries that weight. Not them.

Even after this realization, I felt lost. I had never done anything just for me. I didn’t know what I wanted, or what happiness even looked like. But I began to believe something important: it’s okay not to have it all figured out right away. Healing takes time. Finding yourself takes time.

So, if you’re stuck in a life that doesn’t feel like yours — keep fighting for yourself. Start small. Explore what brings you joy, what excites you, what gives you peace. You deserve that. You deserve happiness. You deserve to live a life that feels like yours — not one built on guilt, fear, or obligation.

Because for me, the meaning of life isn’t about doing everything right or making everyone else happy. It’s about becoming someone I can live with. Someone I respect. It’s about learning to choose myself, even when it’s hard — and trusting that I’m worth choosing.

That’s what life means to me now:
To live with myself, not against myself.
To live honestly.
To live freely.
To finally live as me.