View this post on Instagram

 

I was not supposed to make it here—and that is exactly why I did.

I grew up in Chicago, where it was not always easy to fit in. My parents are from Iraq, and they raised us with one mission: to build the life they never had.

That meant sacrifice. That meant pressure. That meant I always felt a little different, like I was walking two tightropes at once—one for who I was expected to become and one for who I wanted to be.

Nobody in my family was an engineer. I did not have a roadmap, but I still broke the mold.

At 23, I work full-time on complex mechanical projects serving a large pharmaceutical company in Indianapolis. I am proud of the title. But that is not the whole story.

What most people do not see is the version of me that spent weekends, nights, and early mornings chasing something bigger. Something I have wanted since I was a kid: to be an author.

Ever since I was little, writing gave me clarity. I used to dream about seeing my name in print. But life gets busy, and technical writing, the kind that lands in journals, is not the kind of thing you just do. Still, one professor saw something in me when no one else did, and it lit a fire.

So, I started writing a research paper. I worked on it while managing a full-time career. I spent hours revising, citing, and defending my work against feedback that made me question everything. I submitted the paper. Got hit with major revisions. Twice.

The pressure was real. But the self-doubt was worse.

I made every revision they asked for and still got told it was not enough. I felt defeated—but I did not give up. I revised it again, submitted it to a new journal (the International Journal for Research in Applied Science and Engineering Technology), and this time I got the message I had dreamed of: my paper was officially accepted and published.

I remember staring at my screen thinking maybe I was not meant to do this. Maybe this dream was not for me after all.

But I did not stop.

Because the truth is, the waiting, the rejection, and the silence did not kill the dream. It made it matter more.

And it made me realize something I wish someone had told me at 18:

Admire your struggles. They are what make this thing called life so beautiful.

I gave up a lot to get here—nights out, free weekends, even moments with family. But I do not regret it. Chasing this dream taught me how much I am capable of, and for that, I am grateful.

I am not here because things were easy. I am here because I kept going when they were not.

Because I learned that our dreams are not supposed to come without resistance. They are supposed to transform us.

This is not just a story. It is proof that I kept going, and maybe you can too.

~