“I have carried pain, humiliation, burdens, and battles that the world may never understand. Yet I remain in enthusiastic motion—not because my journey has been easy, but because my purpose is greater than everything that tried to stop me.”
— Bidita Rahman
An Unbroken Journey of Purpose, Pain, and Possibility
By Bidita Rahman
I have wandered through nameless storms,
Carried wounds that spoke in silence,
Endured the weight of shame.
Humiliation rapped at the door of my soul,
Yet never conquered my ultimate goal.
I have tasted pain that words cannot define,
Embraced heavy burdens and claimed them as my own.
I have watched my dreams drift beneath darkened skies,
Yet kept a thousand suns blazing inside my mind.
Some days, my energy flickered, barely a flame,
Some nights, my heart wandered, forgetting its own name.
But even when the world appeared still,
My purpose whispered softly, urging me to rise.
I do not walk to escape my past,
Nor chase a victory meant to last.
I move because my soul still knows
That even in suffering, something beautiful grows.
My scars are chapters, not my chains,
My losses are lessons, not simply pains.
Every rejection, every closed door,
Has taught my spirit to become more.
I carry possibilities within my chest,
A restless hope that never sleeps.
With zeal, courage, and grace,
I keep moving forward at my own steady pace.
I am not untouched by sorrow or fear,
I have simply learned the art of perseverance.
I may grow weary, I may bend,
But my unfinished story refuses to end.
For I was never promised an easy road,
Only the strength to carry my load.
And although the journey has wounded me deep,
There are sacred promises to myself I must keep.
I am still here. I am still becoming.
My heart beats alive, my spirit keeps running.
Not every battle has been won,
Not every dream has seen the sun.
But I have a purpose beyond my pain,
A thousand reasons urging me to rise again.
And while life moves through shade and light,
I will keep my vision fiercely burning bright.
I am not finished. I am not done.
I am the journey itself, not just the one who has won.
With every breath, through all I endure,
I remain in motion, determined and sure.
© 2026 Bidita Rahman · All Rights Reserved
By Bidita Rahman
Some nights
sleep stands outside my door
and refuses to come in.
The clock keeps moving,
but I remain awake—
counting unfinished thoughts,
replaying conversations,
carrying tomorrow
before tomorrow even arrives.
My mind becomes a crowded room.
What if I fail?
What if I am too late?
What if everything I have worked for
slips quietly from my hands?
Anxiety knows how to speak loudly
when the world becomes silent.
It turns small worries into storms,
uncertainty into mountains,
and every unanswered question
into another reason to stay awake.
Yet morning always finds me.
Sometimes exhausted.
Sometimes uncertain.
Sometimes carrying a heart
heavier than anyone can see.
But still—
I get up.
I gather the scattered pieces
of courage left from the night,
put my feet back on the ground,
and face another day.
I have learned
that strength does not always roar.
Sometimes strength is simply
washing your face after a sleepless night,
showing up with tired eyes,
and whispering,
Keep going.
Challenges have stood before me
like locked doors.
Some opened.
Some did not.
Some forced me
to find another road.
And perhaps that is what becoming is—
not living without fear,
not escaping every storm,
not winning every battle,
but learning to walk
while your hands are trembling.
I still have questions.
I still have difficult nights.
I still meet versions of myself
that are afraid of what comes next.
But fear no longer decides
where my story ends.
I may walk slowly.
I may stop to gather strength.
I may carry scars
from roads no one knows I traveled.
But I am still moving.
And tonight,
if sleep forgets my name again,
I will remind myself:
I have survived nights
I once thought would break me.
I have crossed storms
I could not see beyond.
And even when
I cannot see the whole road ahead,
I can still take
one more step.
The night may keep me awake,
anxiety may shake my heart,
and life may test every part of me—
but I am still here.
Still becoming.
Still moving.
Still going.
— Bidita Rahman
THE ART OF RISING
My solitude, my battles, my hidden strength, my hard-won success
Bidita Rahman
I have wandered unseen roads,
Carried invisible burdens on my shoulders.
Smiled through tempests, swallowed my worries whole,
And waged silent wars deep inside.
There were nights when my thoughts thundered louder
Than the restless world beyond my door.
When I questioned the very shape of my existence,
And wondered what cause kept me fighting.
I’ve felt the heavy weight of solitude,
Of holding dreams too vast for my surroundings.
Of giving my all in silence, without applause,
Of building hope atop uncertain ground.
Yet solitude revealed something beautiful to me:
Not every empty room echoes with loss.
Sometimes, when the world hushes to silence,
You can finally hear the voice that lives within your soul.
I’ve stumbled, yes,
I’ve failed, yes,
I’ve watched golden chances slip through my fingers.
I’ve faced disappointments that almost convinced me
That tomorrow would mirror the shadows of yesterday.
But my darkest chapter does not define me,
Nor am I measured by the times I fell.
I am the courage that carried me forward,
The silent strength no one could see.
I have shaped my pain into purpose,
My struggles into stepping stones beneath my feet,
My disappointments into fierce determination,
And my loneliness into a strength that is wholly mine.
I no longer run after applause.
I no longer plead to be understood.
I am learning to trust the winding path of my journey,
Even when the road twists away from what I imagined.
Let them misjudge the power in my silence.
Let them misread the rhythm of my pace.
I am not racing against anyone else;
I am determined to arrive at my own place.
One day, these sleepless nights will reveal their meaning.
These sacrifices will become the story I tell.
The doors that closed will stand as reminders
That rejection was only a bend in my journey.
And when success finally discovers me,
I will remember the person I once was,
The one who held nothing but a dream,
A wounded heart and the courage to believe.
I will celebrate, not for an easy life,
But because I never surrendered.
Because even as the fire circled me,
I found a reason to rise from the glowing embers.
I am still in the making.
Still fighting on.
Still learning,
Still growing into myself.
My solitude is not a weakness.
My challenges do not define my identity.
My failures are not where I am headed.
And my success will never be an accident.
I was forged in silence,
Strengthened by every struggle,
Driven by a purpose that burns,
And destined always to rise.
My journey is far from over.
My greatest chapter waits to be written.
— And this time, I am writing it myself.
Humans are the best thinkers. No other creation can think like humans. That is the source of their power because their development is tremendously remarkable. But on the other hand, humans can overthink, making their lives miserable. If somebody does wrong to you, it is their deeds, not yours. When you react to that behavior now, it counts your deeds. You have the power to change your behavior, not theirs. If you allow yourself to take their behavior, you will continuously think about it, and you will make your karmic account heavy, and it will become your destiny, and you might have a physical sickness. If you have a genetic memory of sadness, a traumatic situation, or depleting your energy, then it might harm you subconsciously, but you can change it. You are human; you have the power to win the war within yourself. You need to figure out the trigger and remove the harmful radiation. Again, you need to recognize what you already allow from people; taking everything personally is sickness. Proper knowledge, the right direction, the right activity, and the right surroundings can help you live well.
Stay well.
Bidita Rahman
The moment you decide to change the momentum of your life, your life changes.
