Becoming the Woman I Needed: A Birthday Reflection for Every Soul Still Becoming

Today is more than a birthday. It is a celebration of the woman I have become, and the woman I continue to grow into. This message is not only for me. It is for you — for the women and men who are silently carrying battles the world never sees. Some of us smile while carrying invisible weight. This is for those hearts, and also for those who speak without knowing what others are going through. Let this be a lesson to pause, to listen, and to choose kindness.

I grew up without a father figure. That absence created a gap, but my mother filled it with her strength. She was both mother and father. Her resilience shaped me. She taught me that love and responsibility are not about roles, but about action. Watching her lead our lives gave me the foundation to walk tall, even when my knees felt weak.

In 2012, I made a painful decision. I was just four months away from completing my degree when my baby became critically unwell. There was no one else to care for the child, so I stepped back from education to do what mattered most — show up as a mother. It was not the end of my dreams, just a delay. Seven years later, I started again. During COVID-19 in 2019, while the world was shutting down, I reopened a door to my education and completed what I had once paused. It was not easy. Motherhood, stress, study, and uncertainty all lived under the same roof.

Despite finishing my degree and having seven years of experience, I faced rejection after rejection. One interview, in particular, left a mark. A woman from a well-known telecom company in the Maldives questioned if I even knew how to use a computer. Her words came not from concern, but from condescension. As a mother, and as a woman, I was dismissed before I could even begin. That moment did not break me. It woke me up.

The question I began asking myself was, “Who am I, really?” That search led me to voices that helped me shift — mentors like Bob Proctor, Jack Canfield, Lisa Nichols, Tony Robbins, and Dean Graziosi. I stopped trying to fit into places where I was not seen. I started building my own space. In 2021, I launched a business in my own name — Mariyam Mohamed. From there, I built Coaching Studio and Personal Development Training Institute. These were not just brands. They were answers to the question I had once whispered: “Can I really do this?” The answer was yes.

In 2023, life shook me once more. I lost my 21-year-old brother. No words fully capture what that kind of loss does. Grief does not pass; it transforms. It becomes part of your breath, your thinking, your walk. It makes joy feel sacred and sorrow feel deeper than before.

Then in 2024, I faced another life-changing event — divorce. What few people know is that on the same day, I got divorced, I was scheduled to deliver a six-hour training session. I did it. I smiled, I spoke, and I showed up as if my life wasn’t quietly falling apart. No one knew. That’s the kind of strength many of us carry — the kind no one sees, yet it holds up entire lives.

At one point in my journey, I changed how I wore my hijab. This was a personal shift linked to panic attacks. The decision was for my healing, not for appearance. People talked. Some mocked. Still, I continued, because my relationship with my faith is between me and Allah. No public opinion gets to define the depth of that bond. It is sacred, and it is personal.

I am still evolving. I am still learning about who I am and what I am capable of. New people, new lessons, and new challenges continue to shape me. This journey is not about having it all figured out. It is about showing up honestly, even when life feels uncertain.

If you are reading this while going through your own quiet battles, I want you to know this — you are not alone. You are already rising. Every step you take, even the small ones, is a victory. Please remember that your story is still unfolding. Your strength may not always be loud, but it is real.

To those who rush to judge, who speak without thinking, let this serve as a reminder. You never know what someone is going through. One word can lift or wound. Choose kindness.

Today, I do not just celebrate my birthday. I celebrate every person who keeps going when the world gives them reasons to stop. I celebrate the quiet courage, the unseen tears, the invisible victories. We are not broken — we are becoming. If you are still in that process, you are not late. You are right on time.