‘Be true to yourself’ and ‘stay true to who you are’ are platitudes of social media’s self-appointed sages and celebrity role models. But for those who derive from a culture where speaking plainly has been stifled, there comes a point where you are no longer sure of what is your truth and authenticity. It has taken me decades and continues to require from me a labour of love to excavate my ‘truth’ from my very own self. So much of one’s identity can be inextricably linked to parental, familial and societal wants and needs – in the end one wonders what is left underneath all that camouflage.

As we keep moving through life’s exhilaratingly tragic and beautiful fluctuations, I have realised that one of my life’s greatest ‘truth-teacher’ is my pain. Whatever that hurts me, is the source of my search for a higher self. From my bereavement, I learned that love and sacrifice for family and true friends is a luxury to nourish while it still exists. From my disappointment of being totally taken for granted, I learned that the purpose of giving is only to endear myself to my Creator, and not for human recognition. From my envy, I learned that I wanted to have a life rich with effort, hope and contribution. From my humiliation at rejection, I learned that true acceptance needed to come from inside of me. From my failures, I learned that it’s the getting up from a fall than the actual fall itself, which defines our trajectory.

And so now, at each interval of emotional discomfort, I appreciate that the moment has come to sit with myself and query upon my truth. As Rumi told us once, ‘the wound is where the Light enters you’.