One day, I came home clutching a math paper marked 3 out of 10. To my young mind, it felt like the world was crashing down around me. I knew I had to get the paper signed by my parents, or my teacher would call them, and it would bear more significant consequences. That paper felt like a ticking time bomb, and I clung to it like it was my lifeline. As panic took over, I crumpled it tightly, my sweaty palms smearing the pencil marks into a dull, grey blur. Hours passed in dread, and when my father finally arrived home, he was greeted by the sight of my tear-streaked face and the sad, crumpled mess of that paper. He didn’t raise his voice or scold me (which is scarier). Instead, he sat down beside me, and that evening, we had a conversation—a conversation that would go on to define something significant in my life.
When my father asked why I had scored so poorly, I replied hesitantly, barely above a whisper, “This part of the material is challenging. I can’t understand anything it’s trying to teach me.” He frowned, puzzled. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed help? We could’ve gotten a tutor or worked on it together.”
Staring at the crumpled paper, I muttered, “I didn’t have the time. The day before the exam, I was too tired to study; I came home late after playing with my friends.” He responded firmly, “Eva, we don’t have the privilege of time.”
I stared at him, confused by his words. Sensing my uncertainty, he softened and added, “For people like us, time is incredibly precious, and we are only borrowing it.”
Borrowing The Time
When I typed this blog, it was 3 a.m. on the night of Isra Mi’raj commemoration. This night has special meaning for my family. We do not reflect on our life purpose during the first of January; it is during this night.
When Prophet Muhammad ﷺ ascended to meet God, he had just endured one of the most challenging years of his life—and the lives of his followers. He had lost his beloved wife and uncle, and he faced extreme-relentless persecution. Not only did he bear these personal trials, but he also witnessed the same suffering inflicted on those who placed their trust in him. In that era, people could not simply escape persecution. Most lacked the means of long-distance transportation and lived in the same place from the moment they were born until the day they died. During this sacred night, when his heart was heaviest, God granted him the miraculous journey of Isra Mi’raj. This was a divine recognition—a medal of honor and a seal of completion for him and his companions after such immense trials—and an act of unparalleled mercy.
Yet, the significance of this night extends beyond that. The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ ascended with one condition: that his ummah would share in the benefits of his journey. In this grand meeting, God gifted Muslims the five daily prayers—a direct connection to Him, a spiritual lifeline accessible to us in the intimacy of our own homes. But to me, the main story is not about the prayers; it is about the hope that, to achieve growth, I must endure trials that provide the opportunity for elevation. This brought me to the meaning of this year’s Isra Wal Mi’raj commemoration. I’m still working on applying this meaning, but in light of Isra Mi’raj, I want to make self-respect the guiding principle for my actions this year.
Self Respect
I define self-respect as an act that shows a true understanding the price of everything, the value of being alive, cared for, and blessed.
Joan Didion wrote in her essay:
In brief, people with self-respect exhibit a certain toughness, a kind of moral nerve; they display what was once called character,a quality which, although approved in the abstract, sometimes loses ground to other, more instantly negotiable virtues.
In Hidden Potential, Adam Grant explains that character determines success and is a learned capacity to live by our principles. This quality equips individuals to achieve seemingly impossible goals. Echoing Joan Didion, Grant highlights that character includes discipline, determination, and proactiveness. Developing these traits often requires embracing discomfort as part of achieving intangible comforts. For me, self-respect—the foundation of these traits—determines whether we grow into tall, flourishing character trees or remain stunted and stuck.
Self-respect means seeing every aspect of life as essential and treating each one as something that can contribute to our growth and success. It’s about being mindful of the choices we make and the habits we form.
For instance, I want to take better care of myself. I’ve realized I haven’t been doing well with my body. I’ve gained weight, fallen back into unhealthy habits, and lacked a consistent workout routine. My lifestyle has been, at best, sedentary. And no, this isn’t a matter of limitation or lack of time—it’s a clear example of misplaced self-respect.
I also want to be more mindful of what I consume. I’d like to reduce my habit of watching mindless horror movies (or any pseudo-porn masquerading as a Netflix must-watch). I will steer clear of contemporary romance books, sad stories, and too much thriller. These choices do not align with the values I want to cultivate—neither challenge my mind nor contribute to my growth. Instead, they leave me feeling empty, offering little more than a fleeting distraction.
Waking up early is a form of self-respect, as is getting enough sleep, eating cleaner, and maintaining a regular workout routine. Picking up my own mess is an act of self-respect, as is not leaving things on the floor or neglecting to care for my belongings, especially when in someone else’s space. Self-respect is a sign that I value myself and will value others. Telling people that I genuinely can’t do something because I am already overwhelmed is self-respect, as is doing something important even though I am not in the mood.
Setting boundaries and honoring my commitments to myself are forms of self-respect. Working on the difficult essay, studying for the GRE, and enduring the painful scholarship process—because I promised myself I would—without constantly retreating into countless “healing” breaks is self-respect.
Saying no to people-pleasing is self-respect, as is stepping up to meet responsibilities even when they feel daunting. Keeping my space organized and intentional is self-respect, as is making time to do the things that bring me joy and fulfillment. Self-respect reflects how much I care about my well-being and how much I am willing to show up for others healthily.
Self-respect is not about being comfortable; it will usually challenge me to move out of my comfort zone. This discomfort is where growth begins. Self-respect often asks me to face truths I’d rather ignore, make choices that require discipline, and embrace the vulnerability of not having all the answers. It’s about choosing the more challenging but meaningful path, prioritizing long-term growth over immediate gratification.
Improvement should center on the core value of self-respect—not rooted in pride or the desire to appear different, but in a genuine commitment to growth. It means being willing to be misunderstood on this path, letting go of self-judgment, and holding tightly to discipline.
A (V) in Writing: 