Wasifreflects

Tag: mental-health

  • Home Essentials for a Peaceful Life: Beyond Furniture and Things

    Photo by Leyla Ku0131lu0131u00e7 on Pexels.com

    Most people think a good home means having the right furniture, appliances, and kitchen items. But once those basics are covered, something still often feels missing. The house is full, yet the heart sometimes feels empty.

    A home becomes truly alive when it supports peace, clarity, and connection — not just daily function.

    This guide is about the invisible essentials a home needs to feel like a sanctuary.

    1. Create a Gentle Daily Rhythm

    Life becomes calm when repeated patterns exist. Not strict routines, just a simple flow:

    • Wake up → drink water → pray → breathe or stretch for 2 minutes
    • Share a few words during breakfast
    • Work or study with purpose
    • In the evening, slow down — tea, family talk, quietness
    • Sleep at a consistent time

    When time is regular, the mind stops fighting itself.

    Rhythm is peace.

    2. Make a Calm Corner

    Every home needs one place that feels like a return to the soul.

    It doesn’t have to be a room. Even a small corner can hold peace:

    • A cushion or small chair
    • A soft light or lamp
    • A Quran or a book
    • No phone, no clutter

    This is where you sit when your mind feels heavy or overwhelmed — a safe space to come back to yourself.

    3. Protect Family Connection

    Connection doesn’t happen automatically. It must be built intentionally.

    Once a day, take 10 minutes together:

    • No phone
    • No TV
    • Just talk

    Ask:

    • What made you happy today?
    • What felt difficult?
    • What would you like tomorrow to feel like?

    This small practice shapes confident, emotionally strong children—and a warm home.

    4. Keep Food Simple and Nourishing

    A peaceful home has a simple kitchen rhythm:

    • One proper home-cooked meal daily
    • Light meals the rest of the day
    • Tea shared slowly
    • Avoid eating late at night

    Eating with gratitude nourishes more than the body — it nourishes the heart.

    5. Simplicity in Finances

    Money stress can destroy peace. But peace can return with simplicity:

    • Use one account for daily expenses
    • A second for saving (even small amounts matter)
    • Track expenses on just one notebook page

    Not to restrict life — but to stay awake inside it.

    6. A Weekly One-Hour Clean Reset

    Dedicate just one hour each week to refresh the home:

    • Change bedding
    • Clean bathroom surfaces
    • Remove unnecessary items from tables and counters

    A clean environment clears the mind.

    7. Set the House Culture

    Every home has a culture, whether chosen or accidental.

    Choose one intentionally:

    • Speak softly
    • No shouting
    • No backbiting
    • When someone is stressed → offer tea, not arguments
    • Honor each other’s silence

    A peaceful home is built moment by moment, word by word.

    8. Everyone Should Be Growing Slowly

    Growth doesn’t have to be fast. Just steady.

    • Parents: learning, building, reflecting
    • Children: reading, exploring, expressing
    • As a family: supporting and uplifting each other

    Progress is not measured in achievements — it’s measured in direction.

    9. Remember the Purpose

    A home is successful when it grows:

    • Peaceful hearts
    • Grateful minds
    • Honest character
    • A sense of closeness with Allah

    This is the true wealth of a household.

    Everything else is temporary.

    Final Thought

    The home is not the walls.
    The home is the atmosphere.
    The home is the hearts inside the walls.

    If we nurture peace, presence, and gentle care — the home becomes a garden of tranquility in a noisy world.

  • The Heart of Innovation: Why I’m Learning Medical Diagnostics

    Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

    Why a Researcher Should Understand More Than Just Their Own Device

    As a PhD researcher working on next-generation polymeric heart valves, I spend most of my days buried in data: tensile curves, SEM images, dip-coating parameters, FTIR peaks, and cyclic loading behavior. I engineer membranes, optimize composite formulations, and test fatigue life. But recently, I’ve come to realize — all this knowledge isn’t enough.

    To truly innovate, especially in the medical device field, you have to look beyond your own bench. That’s why I’ve been taking time to understand the diagnostic and interventional procedures used in cardiovascular care, such as angiography, angioplasty, stenting, and echocardiography.

    This isn’t just intellectual curiosity. It’s about context — the clinical picture in which my device will live and (hopefully) save lives.

    From Bench to Bedside: The Clinical Gap

    Most engineering PhDs focus on materials, testing, and fabrication. But if you’re designing a heart valve — or any life-critical implant — it doesn’t exist in isolation. It enters a complex, fast-moving, clinical world.

    I realized that if I don’t understand how doctors diagnose aortic stenosis, how they visualize valve dysfunction using angiography, or how they decide between transcatheter vs surgical interventions, I can’t claim to know whether my device is truly fit for purpose.

    The doctor isn’t thinking about my fracture toughness graphs. They’re thinking about access routes, fluoroscopic visibility, deployment risks, and backup strategies if the leaflet doesn’t coapt properly.

    That gap between lab and hospital can’t be bridged by data alone. It needs insight.

    Why I’m Studying Angiography, Echocardiography & More

    So yes, I’m now brushing up on angiography — how contrast dye reveals arterial blockages, how balloon catheters dilate vessels, and when a stent becomes necessary. I’m reviewing echocardiography — how sonographers assess leaflet mobility and regurgitation severity.

    It might not be in my thesis, but it’s essential for what comes after the PhD:
    👉 Bringing my valve to clinical trials.
    👉 Supporting our startup “Syntex” as we develop regulatory dossiers.
    👉 Collaborating with interventional cardiologists.
    👉 Responding to FDA and MHRA reviewers.
    👉 Designing something that integrates, not disrupts, the clinical workflow.

    Engineering in the Real World Means Understanding the Human World

    What I’m learning is bigger than medicine. It’s about becoming a holistic innovator — one who respects the system they’re entering.

    Too often, we engineers build in a vacuum. We assume the world will adjust around our invention. It rarely does.

    When you want to build a real-world device, you need real-world empathy. That includes the people using it, the systems managing it, and the patients trusting it.

    My Advice to Other Researchers

    If you’re a researcher like me, building medical devices or anything user-facing, ask yourself:

    • Do I know how my product is currently used in the field?
    • Do I understand the pain points of clinicians, not just the performance metrics?
    • Have I ever watched a live procedure where my device might one day be deployed?
    • Am I designing with awareness — or in academic isolation?

    If not, take some time to study the systems your invention must integrate with. Read clinical case studies. Watch interventional videos. Talk to nurses, surgeons, and technicians. Attend a medical conference.

    It won’t just make you a better inventor. It’ll make your device more likely to survive the journey to market — and do what it was meant to do: help people.

    Wasif Reflects: Where Engineering Meets Meaning

    At this stage in life, I’m no longer chasing wealth or titles. I’m chasing meaningful contribution. That means being honest with myself about where I lack perspective and actively working to fill those gaps.

    Learning how the heart is imaged, diagnosed, and treated has humbled me. And it’s reminded me that innovation isn’t always about novelty — sometimes it’s about understanding what already exists, deeply and respectfully.

    Because only then can you truly build something better.

    —
    Wasif

  • The “Term Time” Puzzle – Life as a PhD Student in the UK

    Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels.com

    When you’re doing a PhD in the UK, your life doesn’t run on the neat calendar blocks of undergrad life. There’s no “September to December term” followed by a long winter break, then “January to March” with another big gap in between.

    Nope.
    For most of us, it’s research all year round.

    Recently, I had an email from Sainsbury’s (my weekend job) asking for my term dates for 2024–2025. Simple enough, right? Except… as a PhD student, I don’t really have “term dates” in the same way. My only official breaks are Christmas, Easter, and the odd bank holiday. The rest of the year, I’m “in term” even if I’m taking a short holiday, it’s something I apply for through my department, not an automatic university break.

    I explained that I’m getting a letter from my university to confirm this. But the request got me thinking… it’s funny how small admin details like this can remind you how different a PhD is from other courses.

    When people ask me, “When’s your next holiday from uni?” I almost laugh. The truth is, the research doesn’t stop experiments, writing, and deadlines don’t follow the public school calendar. If I want a break, I plan it, request it, and then go straight back to the lab or my thesis.

    It’s not a complaint — it’s just the reality. Doing a PhD is a bit like having a long-term job where the boss is your research question, and it doesn’t take days off.

    So yes, I’ll get the letter for Sainsbury’s. But deep down, I know the real “term” for me is every single day until I hand in that thesis.

  • My Digital Peace Pact: Choosing Peace Over Past

    Photo by Miray Bostancu0131 on Pexels.com

    There’s a quiet kind of pain that comes from opening an app and being pulled back into a world you’ve tried to move on from.

    You open WhatsApp and see statuses from people you once knew—some who hold beautiful memories, others who remind you of rivalry, envy, or a version of yourself you no longer want to revisit. You scroll through Facebook and see highlight reels of other people’s lives—career wins, travel, relationships, success.

    And somewhere in your heart, you feel… something heavy.

    You don’t want to compare. You don’t want to care. But your peace is disturbed anyway.

    🔁 What Social Media Was Supposed to Be

    Social media promised connection.
    But what I’ve felt, more often than not, is:

    • Disconnection from my present
    • Comparison with lives I don’t truly know
    • Regret over memories I can’t or don’t want to relive
    • A whisper of unworthiness

    I want to live my life, not keep watching someone else’s unfold like a never-ending slideshow.

    📿 What I Truly Want

    I want:

    • Silence from the past that no longer serves me
    • Freedom from subconscious competitions
    • A space where I can breathe, reflect, and move forward
    • Peace—not performance

    This is not bitterness. It’s clarity.
    This is not running away. It’s walking home to myself.

    📱 My Digital Peace Pact

    Here’s what I’m doing:

    1. Muting WhatsApp Statuses that don’t bring me peace
    2. Unfollowing people on Facebook who stir up unhealthy feelings
    3. Opening apps with intention, not out of habit
    4. Replacing noise with nourishment—Islamic reflections, writing, nature, and silence
    5. Noticing how I feel after using an app, and adjusting accordingly

    💭 My Life Is Not a Race

    We all bloom in different seasons.
    Some people may look “ahead,” but I’ve realized this: I am not behind. I’m just on my own path.

    And that path deserves presence.
    It deserves protection.
    It deserves peace.

    🌙 Final Words

    So this is my pact. My Digital Peace Pact.
    To mute the past when necessary.
    To stay present.
    And to live my life—not theirs.

  • Maybe I Wasn’t Meant to Lead—and That’s Okay

    Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels.com

    For most of my life, I’ve been doing what I was told. Study hard. Follow the path. Get the degree. Chase the respectable life.

    And I did.

    But somewhere along the way, I started to feel something heavy:
    What if I’ve spent so many years learning what others expected—
    that I never learned what I truly want?

    People talk about leadership like it’s the highest goal. Be bold. Be seen. Lead the way.

    But here’s my truth:
    I’m not cut out to be a leader.

    Not because I lack intelligence. Not because I don’t care about the world.
    But because I know myself now.

    I don’t thrive in the spotlight. I don’t enjoy managing people’s opinions.
    I’m not built to carry others’ expectations on my shoulders.

    And maybe that’s not weakness. Maybe that’s clarity.

    I Take Negativity and Turn It Into Peace

    That’s who I am. When things go wrong, I don’t explode—I reflect.
    I try to find meaning, to find healing, to make something better out of something broken.

    I don’t want power. I want peace.
    I don’t want followers. I want freedom.

    And strangely, the more I walk this quiet path, the more alive I feel.

    What If We’re Not All Meant to Lead?

    What if some of us are here to:

    • Walk the forest path while others chase the road?
    • Raise kind children while others lead big crowds?
    • Heal silently while others speak loudly?

    Not everyone needs to change the world in the public eye.
    Some of us change the world by changing ourselves.
    By choosing calm over chaos. Stillness over struggle. Truth over performance.

    This Is Me Now

    I’m still figuring it out.
    But for the first time, I’m not rushing.

    I’m learning that my value isn’t in how loud I am—
    but in how true I’m willing to be.

    I may not be a leader.
    But I’m no longer lost either.

    And that, for me, is enough.

  • When Help Isn’t Mutual: A Reflection on Expectations and Boundaries

    Photo by Pavel Danilyuk on Pexels.com

    Today wasn’t an easy day.

    From the moment I woke up, I wasn’t in the best mood. I had a small task that needed doing — nothing complicated, just a simple favor. I asked a colleague I spend most of my time with at university to collect a delivery from the office and leave it in our shared space. It was just from the ground floor to the first — no timing pressure, no complicated process.

    His response? “I’m busy.”
    So I asked another colleague. Same story.

    It stung.

    Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

    I’ve often gone above and beyond for these same people — solving their issues, making time, going the extra mile. But today, when I asked for something small, they couldn’t reciprocate. I tried to justify it — maybe they were really busy. But the truth is, when someone accepts a responsibility and then simply doesn’t follow through, it’s more than inconvenience — it’s a breach of trust.

    One of them even said “I’ll do it,” but didn’t bother and just went home. That left me stuck. I ended up coming to the university — though I hadn’t planned to — just to ensure my own work didn’t suffer. And I was right: no one had done what they said they would.

    So what does that mean?

    It means I need to reassess where I put my energy.
    It means I need to protect my time and my mental peace.
    It means help should never be one-sided.

    Sometimes, silence says enough. I don’t need to lash out or confront them angrily. But I do need to set quiet boundaries — not out of spite, but out of self-respect.

    To everyone reading this:
    If someone consistently shows up for you, value them.
    And if you can’t help, it’s okay — but be honest about it.

    I’m learning not to expect everyone to match the way I show up for them. And maybe that’s the lesson today was meant to teach me.

  • Showing Up — Even When It Hurts

    Photo by Yelena from Pexels on Pexels.com

    Today’s therapy session didn’t go as I hoped.

    I was 15 minutes late — not out of carelessness, but because life has a way of throwing delays when you’re already carrying so much. It was supposed to be a one-hour talking therapy session, but the therapist told me we couldn’t do much now because of the reduced time.

    What hurt most wasn’t just the policy. It was the feeling of being shut down — of driving all the way there, battling my own thoughts and exhaustion, just to be told there wasn’t enough time to talk.

    And I felt vulnerable — not because of what we discussed, but because opening up itself felt like handing over my weaknesses. These things I carry as shame, I placed in the hands of someone who knows much about me… while I know almost nothing about him. That imbalance shook me.

    Therapy, I’m learning, is a one-way street. You give your truth. You give your pain. You hand over your fears. And sometimes, you wonder if that trust could be misused — not necessarily by malice, but simply by misunderstanding or indifference.

    As an overthinker, the whole experience drained me instead of offering peace. I walked away feeling heavier than when I arrived.

    But here’s what matters: I still showed up.
    Even when the odds were against me.
    Even when I was late.
    Even when fear and doubt whispered, “What’s the point?”

    Maybe the session wasn’t fruitful. Maybe there’s a policy to uphold. But I believe there’s something sacred about showing up — for yourself — especially when it’s hard.

    And that, I choose to hold on to today.

    This post is for anyone who’s ever felt dismissed, unheard, or rushed. For anyone who struggled just to get out of bed and go face the world — and did it anyway.

    You matter. Your effort matters. And your journey, however quiet or messy, is still worthy.

    Thanks for being here with me.

    – Wasif