Restored by grace

A STEP TOWARD HEALING

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of Nandi’s dorm room, casting a soft glow across the walls. She stirred beneath the covers, her eyes fluttering open to the sound of birds chirping outside her window. For a moment, she lay still, letting the warmth of the sunlight seep into her skin, and tried to anchor herself in the present.

The events of Family Day lingered in her mind like the remnants of a bad dream. Her chest tightened as the memories played back—her father’s drunken slur, her mother’s scathing remarks, and the pitying looks from strangers. She let out a long, shaky sigh, willing herself to push it all aside.

Nandi sat up slowly, glancing at the clock on her desk. 7:45 a.m. The familiar buzz of campus life had already begun outside. Students hurried past her window, chatting about classes and assignments, their footsteps echoing against the pavement.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and rubbed her eyes. It had been two days since Family Day, but the emotional weight of it still clung to her. Sleep had been elusive, her mind replaying every painful detail.

“Two days,” she whispered to herself, as if saying it aloud would make it easier to process. She had spent the time avoiding her classmates, staying cooped up in her room with her books and Bible, trying to make sense of her emotions.

Her stomach growled, pulling her out of her thoughts. With a resigned sigh, she shuffled to the small kitchenette to make herself a cup of tea. The routine was comforting, grounding her in the present. As the water boiled, she opened her Bible to the verse she had read on Family Day, Psalm 34:18.

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

She traced the words with her finger, finding solace in their promise.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, interrupting her reflection. It was a calendar notification: Therapy Appointment – Today at 2:00 p.m.

Her stomach flipped. The moment she had dreaded was here.Nandi stared at her phone screen, her tea forgotten as a wave of anxiety coursed through her. Therapy. The word alone made her feel exposed, like someone might peer into the deepest parts of her that she had worked so hard to keep hidden.

She wrapped her hands around her steaming cup, letting the warmth soothe her trembling fingers. “You need this,” she whispered, trying to convince herself. “It’s just talking. Nothing bad will happen.”

The hours passed in a blur of half-hearted attempts at studying, her thoughts drifting repeatedly to the appointment. By 1:30 p.m., she found herself standing in front of the mirror, adjusting her braids nervously. Her outfit—a plain white blouse and dark blue jeans—felt both too casual and too formal for the occasion.

Finally, with one last glance at her reflection, she grabbed her bag and headed out the door.

---

The counseling center was located on the far side of campus, nestled between a row of tall jacaranda trees. The path leading up to it was dappled with sunlight streaming through the branches, but the beauty of the scenery did little to calm Nandi’s nerves.

Her footsteps faltered as she reached the door, her hand hovering over the handle. She could hear the faint hum of voices from inside, a reminder that she wasn’t the only one seeking help.

With a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

The waiting room was quiet, save for the soft instrumental music playing through hidden speakers. Students sat scattered across the couches, their faces varying shades of nervous, tired, or resigned. The earthy tones of the room, accented with soft cushions and a few abstract paintings, created a welcoming atmosphere, but Nandi felt like an outsider.

“Miss Mwale?”

The receptionist’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up to see a young woman with a friendly smile standing behind the desk.

“Yes, that’s me,” Nandi replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You can head down the hall to room three. Mrs. Tembo is ready for you.”

Nandi’s heart thudded as she made her way down the hallway. Each step felt heavier than the last. Room three had an open door, and standing in the threshold was a woman with a warm smile and braided hair pulled back into a neat bun.

“Hello, Nandi. I’m Mrs. Tembo,” she said, her tone soothing. “Come on in.”

The office was cozy, with sunlight streaming through a single window framed by cream-colored curtains. A small potted plant sat on the windowsill, and the walls were lined with shelves filled with books and framed photographs of serene landscapes. A pair of armchairs faced each other near the center of the room, separated by a small wooden coffee table.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Mrs. Tembo said, gesturing to one of the chairs as she settled into the other.

Nandi sat stiffly, clutching her bag in her lap. She glanced around the room, noting the small details: the faint scent of lavender, the ticking of a clock on the wall, the softness of the chair beneath her.

“How are you feeling today?” Mrs. Tembo asked, her voice gentle.

Nandi hesitated, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “Nervous, I guess.”

“That’s perfectly normal. This is your first session, so we’ll take it slow. There’s no pressure to share anything you’re not ready to.”

Nandi nodded, though her chest felt tight.

“Let’s start with something simple. What brought you here today?”

For a moment, Nandi was silent, staring at her hands. The words felt heavy on her tongue, but she forced herself to speak.

“I... I’ve been struggling,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “With school, with my family... with everything.”

Mrs. Tembo nodded, her expression understanding. “That sounds like a lot to carry. Can you tell me more about what’s been going on?”

Nandi hesitated, the memories of Family Day flashing in her mind. “My parents... they’re not exactly supportive. My dad drinks a lot, and my mom—she’s... she’s just angry all the time. They came for Family Day, and it was a disaster. My dad showed up drunk, and they fought in front of everyone. It was humiliating.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Mrs. Tembo said sincerely. “It sounds like your family dynamic has been very challenging for you.”

“It has,” Nandi said, her voice trembling. “I try to focus on school, but it’s hard. Sometimes it feels like... like I’m drowning.”

Mrs. Tembo leaned forward slightly, her gaze compassionate. “That’s a powerful way to describe it. Feeling like you’re drowning—it speaks to how overwhelmed you are. Have you had moments where it felt like too much to handle?”

Nandi swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes. “Yes. All the time. I even started... I started cutting myself.” The words came out in a rush, and she looked down, ashamed.

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” Mrs. Tembo said gently. “That must have been incredibly difficult to share.”

Nandi nodded, blinking back tears.

“I want you to know that you’re not alone in this,” Mrs. Tembo continued. “Many people struggle with self-harm as a way to cope with overwhelming emotions. It doesn’t mean you’re weak or broken—it means you’ve been trying to survive in the only way you knew how. But now, we’re going to work on finding healthier ways to cope. Does that sound okay?”

“Yes,” Nandi whispered.

For the rest of the session, they delved into her feelings and experiences. Mrs. Tembo asked questions that made Nandi think deeply about her emotions, her fears, and the patterns in her life. It was exhausting, but it also felt like a small weight had been lifted.

By the time the session ended, the sun was beginning to dip in the sky, casting a golden glow over the campus as Nandi walked back to her dorm. Her mind was swirling with thoughts, but for the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Back in her room, she sat on her bed and opened her Bible to Psalm 34:18. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer, her words trembling but sincere. “God, I don’t know how to fix this, but I know You do. Please help me.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Nandi felt a small flicker of peace. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep her going.