One Day At A Time: Book Excerpt From Malala Yousafzai's 'Finding My Way'

(Excerpted from ‘Finding My Way’ by Malala Yousafzai with permission from Hachette India)

The first time I went to therapy, I imagined it would be like tightening a screw—a quick fix for the bad thoughts rattling in my brain. When I started to feel better, I put the flashbacks and panic attacks behind me, not wanting to dwell on terrible times when there was so much happiness in my life. 

After Johannesburg, though, I called Evelyn and made an appointment. I didn’t want to wait like I had in college, hoping it would resolve on its own. I knew I needed to face the problem be- fore it got worse. 

When I stepped into her office, I felt at peace in the familiar setting. There was the same sofa, the side table with a glass of water waiting for me, the soft lighting. I remembered the first time I saw this room—how I was desperate for help, but skeptical and nervous about therapy; how much I eventually learned from it. 

“Malala, it’s good to see you again,” Evelyn began. “I’m glad you called. How can I help?” 

I recounted my recent panic attack, the way it caught me off guard, the intensity of it. The breathing exercises hadn’t worked, and I didn’t understand how I could’ve gone to sleep feeling con-tent, only to wake up in such overwhelming terror. “It’s like I’ve lost control again,” I said. “I mean, I feel fine now, but I don’t like knowing that this could happen at any moment.” 

“I’m very sorry to hear this, but not surprised,” Evelyn said. “Mental health is a journey—certain times are easy and others more challenging, just like the rest of our lives. Were you feeling a lot of stress on the trip to Johannesburg?” 

“I wasn’t stressed at all. My speech went well, and Asser and I were going on a beach vacation the next day. I was happy.” 

“Can you think of any other triggers that might have been present for you at that time?” 

My stomach lurched, and I realized I’d have to say it out loud: “It’s Afghanistan. And it’s the shooting. My shooting.” 

Evelyn folded her hands and leaned toward me. “Do you remember several years ago when we spoke about PTSD?” I nodded. “In this case, we have to treat the source, not the symptoms. Breathing exercises and learning to recognize triggers can help manage anxiety and, sometimes, interrupt panic attacks. But those are symptoms of PTSD, not the cause. 

“Trauma lives in our bodies, and it stays there until we process it,” she continued. “Our brains work hard to keep us from reliving a difficult experience, using disassociation and repression to try to protect us. Unfortunately, that gets in the way of healing. We have to acknowledge and understand our pain before we can move past it. 

“The good news is that there are several types of treatment. Before you leave today, I’m going to give you some information to read on EMDR, somatic therapy, and trauma-focused cognitive therapy. We can talk about the options in our next session.” 

“Will I ever get rid of PTSD? Will I be ‘cured’ at some point?” I asked. My old resistance to therapy welled up in me. Maybe I’d prefer to take my chances with an occasional panic attack than spend an hour every week talking about my past. 

“That’s a great question, but not one I can answer, I’m afraid,” Evelyn replied. “Recovery is certainly possible, but the timeline can vary from person to person. And some people will have symptoms throughout their lives, though treatment can help to reduce them.” 

“My life is so happy now—and it’s hard to look back.” 

“Processing does not mean constantly dwelling on painful memories. But when we acknowledge trauma in a safe environment, it helps us to regulate our nervous system and stress responses, leading to better physical and mental health. The goal is to build resilience and give you more freedom to fully experience all the wonderful things in your life.” 

I thought of Asser and how frightened we both had been in that hotel room. If there was something I could do to get better, I knew I had to try. 

****

Talking with Evelyn became part of my weekly routine, no matter where I was in the world. We didn’t always discuss trauma, as I learned that therapy is for more than healing old wounds, more than a fire alarm to be pulled in emergencies. Evelyn also helped me with the day-to-day stresses that piled up in my life. Through our sessions, I got better at setting boundaries with my family, recognizing when I needed some alone time, and communicating my needs to the people in my life. 

A few years earlier, I’d rolled my eyes anytime someone mentioned self-care. To me, it seemed self-indulgent and silly, a hobby for people who didn’t have any real problems. But the longer I spent in therapy, the more I realized how my physical and emotional well-being affected my mental health and ability to function in my daily life. 

Evelyn might say I became “proactive” about taking care of myself; my friends would call it “nerdy.” I started tracking my sleep every night—not just total hours, but efficiency, heart rate, and body temperature. A nutritionist helped me balance my diet, swapping out french fries and pad thai for fresh fish and vegetables. I’ll admit, I was pouty at mealtimes for a while, but noticed I felt less sluggish and irritable throughout the day. When I looked in the mirror one morning and saw that my skin was clear and glowing, I knew I could learn to love salmon. 

In January last year, I set a secret goal of running on the treadmill for an hour without stopping. At first I could only make it two or three minutes. But I kept showing up at the gym, trying to increase my stamina a little bit each time. One morning in September, I got on the treadmill and just kept going—fifty minutes, one hour, an hour and five minutes. This is incredible! How far can I go? I wondered.