Mariyam Mohamed

Tonight, as I opened my chat log, I noticed yet another message promising financial freedom: “Don’t depend on monthly income. Make MVR 100,000.” Messages like this arrive almost daily. Different wording, same promise. Over time, instead of reacting with irritation or dismissal, I began to wonder about something deeper:  what kind of mind creates these messages, and what kind of thinking sustains them?   As someone interested in understanding the human mind, particularly criminal thinking patterns, this moment felt worth reflecting on. Criminal Thinking Beyond Violence When we speak of criminal minds, we often imagine violence, coercion, or visible wrongdoing. Yet much of modern criminal behaviour operates quietly, psychologically, and often invisibly. These messages are not acts of physical force; they are acts of influence. They rely on persuasion, misdirection, and an understanding of how people think under pressure. This form of behaviour tells us that criminality today ...

This morning, I woke up with a realisation that felt simple, yet deeply unsettling: we naturally affirm negativity far more often than we realise. Not because we want to, but because repetition quietly trains the mind. The mind listens without argument. It does not evaluate fairness, context, or intention—it absorbs, records, and responds. Over time, what we repeatedly hear becomes what we repeatedly think, feel, and eventually experience. We often believe negativity enters our lives from external circumstances. But more often, it enters through language. What is spoken to us and what we repeat within us. A Personal Awakening: When “Not” Becomes the Problem For years, after facing repeated challenges, I was told something that stayed with me: “You are bitter and angry.” At the time, I rejected it strongly. I kept saying to myself, “I am not a bitter person. I am not an angry person.” I believed I was defending myself. What I did not realise was that the mind does not register t...

After years, I realised something that fundamentally changed how I see relationships, strength, and femininity. I spent last year giving myself the space to heal, reflect, and observe, without rushing to attach meaning or outcomes. That season was not about waiting for love, nor about proving independence; it was about learning how to stand alone without hardening my heart.  Many women are forced to step into roles that were never meant to be carried alone; it does not mean they have lost their femininity. It means they adapted. It means they survived. It means they became their own saviour when no one else could meet them at their level. Strength, in this context, is not a personality trait. It is a response to absence. A woman does not lose her femininity by becoming competent, assertive, or independent. Femininity is not weakness. It is depth, intuition, and emotional intelligence. What truly happens is that femininity goes into self-protection mode . Softness requires safety. ...

One of the most common and painful questions couples ask is not why things went wrong, but how to reconnect after everything that has happened . After conflict, betrayal, disappointment, or prolonged emotional distance, the relationship no longer feels the same. Conversations become shallow, silence becomes normal, and the emotional closeness that once felt effortless now feels unfamiliar. What hurts most is not always the problem itself, but the feeling of being disconnected from the person who once felt like home. We Forget How the Relationship Began When relationships struggle, couples often forget how they started. In the beginning, there was curiosity, patience, and genuine interest. We listened without interrupting. We made time without being asked. We were intentional. Over time, life takes over—responsibilities increase, stress builds, and familiarity replaces effort. Slowly, we stop relating to our partner as someone we are choosing and start relating to them as someone who...

Ramadan is not just a month of fasting; it is a return. A return to family, to shared worship, to the innocence of competing in goodness. Those early mornings, the sound of the Quran filling the house, and the quiet joy of praying together shape how we experience faith as adults. When I reflect on those moments, I realise that Surah Al-Fatiha was always there—recited daily, yet still unfolding new meanings each time life changes us. It is not only the opening of the Quran, but the opening of our inner world. What Is Surah Al-Fatiha? Surah Al-Fatiha, the first chapter of the Quran , consists of seven verses and is recited in every unit of prayer. Scholars describe it as Umm al-Kitab (the Mother of the Book) because it summarises the entire message of Islam: who Allah is, who we are, and how we should walk through life. Without Al-Fatiha, prayer is incomplete—just as without awareness, faith becomes routine. Knowing Allah Before Knowing Yourself The surah begins by grounding us in rec...

In a recent session, a client (identity protected) shared something that many people feel but rarely say out loud. They said, “Every time I give something to someone—even a simple gift—I walk away feeling like I did something wrong.” What struck me was not the act of giving itself, but the emotional weight that followed it. This feeling did not exist earlier in their life. It began after a second divorce from the same partner, this time due to infidelity. Since then, the discomfort appears not just with one person, but with   anyone . This pattern tells us something important about how the mind and body respond after betrayal. As we spoke, it became clear that the feeling was not guilt in the moral sense. The client was not regretting generosity. Instead, their nervous system was reacting as if giving automatically meant danger. In the past relationship, giving had become intertwined with self-abandonment—giving trust again after it was broken, giving chances when boundaries should...

I recently had a conversation with Shihab about action—real action, not the kind we talk about to sound motivated. We spoke about walking the talk . Almost everyone agrees that learning is important. Everyone says they want growth, change, and better outcomes. But the moment learning requires investment —time, money, energy, discomfort—resistance shows up. That conversation stayed with me and led me to one question I couldn’t ignore: Why are we so afraid to take action even when we know it’s good for us? From a psychological perspective, the mind is designed more for survival than growth . Change, even positive change, is interpreted by the brain as uncertainty. Uncertainty triggers the threat system. The brain doesn’t ask, Will this help me grow? It asks, Will this keep me safe right now? So when action requires investment, the mind automatically looks for reasons to delay, rationalise, or avoid. This is not laziness—it’s conditioning. There is also a chemical side to this. When w...

For the past week, one thought has stayed with me:  your struggle makes you stronger . Not as a quote to feel good about, but as a truth you grow into through pain, loss, and lived experience. Pain is not random. Pain is a lesson. And once you understand that, struggle stops feeling like punishment and starts feeling like training. Step 1: Name the Struggle Without Hiding The first mistake people make is pretending they are fine. Growth begins with honesty. Say what hurts. Say what you lost. Say where you feel stuck. The brain cannot process what the mind refuses to admit. When you name the struggle, you stop fighting reality and start working with it. Step 2: Stop Giving Your Power Away One of the biggest lessons I am learning is this: I am no longer allowed to say  he did it  or  they did it . Blame keeps you emotionally dependent on the past. Ownership gives you control over the future. Taking responsibility does not mean what happened was right—it means you choos...

  This Friday, I sat with individuals with great minds, people who have been in service for over two decades. As I listened to them, one thing became very clear to me: despite the hardships they went through, they all found themselves. Each individual carried a story. Not just experiences, but moments that shaped the way they think, feel, and respond to life. These stories taught me more about life than about any single person. They showed how our belief systems are not fixed; they are built, challenged, and rewritten through experience. When life tests us, the mind either adapts or resists. Some people get stuck in old patterns, while most learn to outgrow them. From a psychological perspective, this is how the mind protects us. When we face prolonged hardship, the brain learns survival. It builds beliefs that once kept us safe, but over time, those same beliefs can limit growth. Outgrowing them requires awareness. It requires noticing when a belief no longer serves who we are b...

How I learned to master my thoughts is a question people ask me often. The assumption is usually that I no longer slip into old patterns or that I do not spiral when something difficult happens. That is not true. I still experience moments where my mind goes back to familiar responses, especially during emotionally challenging situations. The difference is that the moment I become aware of my thoughts, I discipline them. That awareness creates a pause, and within that pause, I choose how I respond rather than allowing my mind to run unchecked. What I later realised is that I had been practising this for years without knowing there was a formal term for it. In 2020, I learned that this process is known as forced repetition or autosuggestion. Giving it a name helped me understand that what I had been doing was not accidental. It was a learned psychological process where the mind is trained through consistent repetition of deliberate thoughts. Most people believe that situations directly ...

Your results are a reflection of your effort. It sounds simple, almost obvious. But when you live it, you understand the weight of that truth. When I first started my work, I had no idea the impact it would have on people. I did not begin with applause. I began with doubt — not my own alone, but from others. I remember clearly the voices that said,   “This is not going to work.”   I remember being told,   “What you are doing will make a fool out of you.”   And yet, today I see many people confidently speaking in front of a camera, sharing ideas, expressing perspectives, passing their message forward. What once felt unconventional is now common. What once felt risky is now replicated. It did not start with confidence. It started with one word: discipline. Discipline is not glamorous. It does not come with instant validation. It is repetitive. It is quiet. It asks you to show up when you do not feel like showing up. It demands consistency when your emotions fluctuate. ...

Yesterday, while filming upcoming Ramadan episodes, a casual conversation turned into an unexpected mirror. We were speaking about work, about life priorities, about our non-negotiables. Health. Travel. Freedom to choose how we live. One person looked at me and said, “At least you can travel abroad.” That sentence stayed with me longer than the cameras did. It struck me how easily we overlook what once felt like a dream. The ability to travel, to board a plane, to experience another country, to have a passport that moves — these are privileges many quietly pray for. Yet when something painful happens in our lives, our minds zoom in on the wound. Gratitude fades into the background. We begin narrating life from the lens of what is missing instead of what is present. Psychologically, this tendency is not random. The brain is wired with what researchers call a negativity bias. From an evolutionary perspective, the human mind scans for threats to keep us safe. The amygdala becomes highly...

I still remember a time when I would read the Qur’an simply to complete my recitation. The rhythm was beautiful, the Arabic soothing, but my heart often stood outside the meaning. I did not pause. I did not question. I did not seek to understand. I thought reading was enough.  But growth has a quiet way of changing us. Lately, I have built a habit of reading the tafseer alongside the Qur’an. And I have come to realize that knowing what we read is not an optional luxury—it is nourishment. The Qur’an is not merely sound; it is guidance. It is not just reward in recitation; it is clarity in confusion, structure in chaos, and truth in a world of illusions. As I was reading Surah Ash-Shura, I paused at the verses that speak about harvest. Allah says that whoever desires the harvest of the Hereafter, He increases for them in that harvest. But whoever desires only the harvest of this world may be given something of it—yet they will have no share in the Hereafter. That verse felt like an a...

Picture: training program conducted to HDC  (Confidential case. Client details are hidden, and approval has been obtained for educational purposes.) Trusting again after loss is not a simple decision; it is a psychological negotiation between past pain and present hope. Divorce, in particular, challenges not only relational stability but also one’s internal sense of safety and belonging. Recently, a client shared an experience that reflects this emotional tension. Following his divorce, he expected emotional support from his family. Instead, he found himself becoming the subject of subtle mockery and dismissal. Ironically, he remained the dependable one — the person they called when they needed help. Yet, when he required emotional or practical support, it was rarely offered. I remember sitting there quietly while he spoke about expectations and perception. As I listened, a thought formed in my mind: He has already given the answers. Yet we often fail to see them. Not because t...