By Naazi Morad
There comes a moment in every healing journey when the mind grows tired of searching for answers and the heart longs for direction. For a long time, I lived inside the question why. Why did this happen? Why did love hurt so deeply? Why did things fall apart? My thoughts circled endlessly, replaying conversations and revisiting memories, believing that if I could just understand the reason behind the pain, it would finally loosen its grip on me.
Instead, the more I asked why, the more stuck I became. Why anchored me to the past. It trapped me in loops of analysis, regret, and quiet despair. It asked me to negotiate with outcomes that were already complete and to relive moments that could not be changed. The answers I wanted never truly came, and even if they had, they could not undo what was lost or rewrite what had already unfolded.
One day, something shifted. I realised that the question I was asking was not leading me forward — it was holding me still. So I asked a different question: What now? That small shift changed everything.
What now is not a question of blame or explanation. It is a question of presence and agency. It asks, What can I do in this moment? How can I care for myself here? Where can I place my energy so that it moves me forward instead of pulling me back?
What now opens a door where the mind once built a wall. It invites participation instead of paralysis. It allows reflection without stagnation and transforms suffering into a place of response rather than retreat. Asking what now does not deny pain, and it does not bypass grief. It simply refuses to live entirely inside it.
I began asking what now in small, deliberate ways. It meant resting when I was exhausted instead of proving endurance. It meant setting boundaries when I felt overwhelmed rather than defaulting to people-pleasing. It meant speaking honestly instead of staying silent for comfort and seeking support instead of carrying everything alone. Each time I asked what now, I reclaimed a measure of agency. I shifted from explanation to engagement, from helplessness to choice.
Slowly, pain became information rather than identity. Grief became something I could walk with instead of something that stopped me completely. I came to understand this truth: Why may teach us, but what now shapes us. Why looks backward, searching for reasons. What now looks forward, creating direction. Why can become a circle. What now becomes a doorway.
When I stopped asking why, I stopped chasing answers that kept me bound to the past. When I started asking what now, I stepped back into my life. And for the first time in a long while, I began to live again — not because the pain disappeared, but because I chose movement over stagnation and presence over fear.
If you find yourself trapped in the question of why, gently invite yourself into a new one. Ask, What now? What is one small step you can take today toward care, clarity, or peace? Healing does not begin with perfect understanding. It begins with a choice to move forward, one moment at a time.
