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@mental-muslim
My past is done
After the last guy (who was also the first) I liked moved on and got married... everything is now int he past. This is closure and it’s time to heal. I have so much going on for me that I should focus on improving them... these are crucial years in my education, crucial years in my personal development, and crucial years in repairing my relationship with God.
“It’s going to be fine”
People who’ve heard those words said to them over and over again would rather wallow in their depression than reach out for help again.
I have intense anxiety going to mosque.
“It’s going to be fine, you’ll be fine!”
Yes, it’ll be fine after I finish my panic attack.
Or if I say I don’t want to do anything because I feel like a failure.
“Just do it and you’ll be fine”
THat’s the problem... I cant even get myself to do it in the first place. WHy would I need your help if I could just _do_ it. I want to sleep and cry all day.
it’s not going to be _fine_ It won’t ever be fine. and I guess that’s fine then. Just validating how difficult it is what I’m asking for. I don’t want you to sugar coat or lie to me that it will all be fine because it makes me think i wont have the support when things are not fine.
and when things are not fine... will you sai “it’s going to be fine”, again? I’m sleeping all day, getting no work done, watching tv, eating unhealthy, gaining a lot of weight, and crying... it’s going to be fine is all you can say to me?
The pain in my legs
What I used to be able to do... leg press 100lbs, at least, is a far truth for me now. I can barely do 15lbs.
So when my physiotherapist had me work out today, with the lightest of weights, pain came rushing in like a wave. Afterwards she performed acupuncture and stuck me to the TENS machine. To finish off, she massaged me. I didn’t stretch.. i was done with the session and just wanted to go home.
But as soon as I got home I was just so tired and fell asleep so my bpdy could rebuild itself. But hours later, I woke up crying for my deceased grandfather.
The pain in my legs, the pain that was buried in my legs, when released, released the pain I felt for my grandfather. I didn’t know why I suddenly missed him. Why it’s still so hard to accept and even now I’m crying it out.
Only now did I realize the pain in my body is directly linked to the traumas I buried deep within me. by releasing the pain from my body, I release the traumas. Trying to read my homework, I can’t stop thinking about the time I was on the Executive Committee, and how it led to me quitting. I’m crying about the traumas I buried in my legs now. I already know, that when I have thoughts of no confidence in myself, my legs freeze. I wonder what else lies buried beneath my skin.
Being cherished
I walked into the school today to print something, I felt good. I felt content. And then I saw her - she’s talented, hardworking, and amiable. She’s one of the best. Once your in the elitist club, you can be everywhere - you have authority to be everywhere. She’s humble about it, but it brought back feelings of incapacity. How is it that the good feelings I’ve worked towards this summer could be wiped away by a mere second when I saw her. My heart dropped and I wanted to escape. Why was I happy that my cane wasn’t in my hand? Because I didn’t want to appear even lesser than her to her? She doesn’t even care. Being accepted and cherished at work brought the best out of me. How do I transfer those feelings to school?
August 14
August 14, 2016 - I had just graduated, returned from a cruise trip with my sister whom I had a toxic relationship with, and carried two jobs. Panic attacks were regular and the pain in my ribs were excruciating that in the middle of the day I would drop to the floor in agony. At this point paralysis was normal. One of the jobs I held would pave the path for my future. August 14, 2017 - I didn’t know if I would be accepted to enter into my Masters program, held 4 jobs of which one of them was so stressful I was losing myself. My nephew was born that day, and I was in the hospital for a 14 hour long paralysis. I didn’t see the crisis counselor. August 14, 2018 - paralysis, pain, seizures were normal. Earlier that summer I was invited for an interview for a job i applied for. On my way home I called my brother to pick me up and he rushed me to the hospital because what was normal for me, wasn’t for him. After a panic attack in the hospital, i saw a crisis counselor. My journey to healing began. I went for ziyarah in a wheelchair with chronic pain and inflammation. I did many tests. Found nothing that helped what I already knew. I had also applied for a job that would later save me. August 14, 2019 - with a cane in my hand i sit here writing after coming back from work at the place I applied for last year. It did in fact save me. This morning I had gone to a psychotherapist that has taught me how to be kind to myself - we are wrapping up our sessions now. This evening I went back to the place I worked in 2016 after graduating and greeted my old supervisor. It’s where I officially started. I am happy I am here.
On August 14, 2017 i was admitted to the hospital for a paralysis lasting 14 hours. While they were not the most difficult 14 hours because it’s not the first time I’ve experienced such symptoms, it was the first time my family decided they would insert themselves into my life more - that was difficult.
With my hands on the arms of the doctor, he helped me walk. it’s been a crazy 2 years being in the arms of many people, and allowing myself to be supported. What a shattering two years for my ego and a building up of my courage. I’m walking on my own now. Please, God, support me to support myself.
To change history: Day 1
Tomorrow is day 1. In my program, architecture, we have unique projects and classes that don’t need note takers or extra time to rest exams as other students registered with accessibility services need. We need physical support to print, model, and pin up. Tomorrow I’ll be talking to a new accessibility advisor about how to begin the steps to acquire that assistance while being accepted as help and not just someone you’re hiring to do the work. Life with fibromyalgia is a challenge but I want my illness paired with my fortitude to make it easier for students with disabilities to come.
I want to give up, I want to give up so bad. You hear that world? I’m in so much pain I want to give up. The reason I can’t give up is if I do, I’ll be in more pain and so I have to keep going. What a life. Why can’t the amount of oxygen in my lungs satisfy me?
I hadn’t touched charcoal in quite some time but my hands remembered what I taught them many years ago:
1. To forgive myself for my mistakes and to make those mistakes work to my advantage.
2. To have patience and faith because it’ll get better the more I work on it.
3. To enjoy the process because my mood reflects in everything I do. If I’m angry, it’ll show.
4. To build myself when no one is looking because that’s when I’ll be true to God.
My hands remembered, but I did not. The tables have turned and I must now listen to my body.
I erased the swear words. I’m upset but I’m not crude... anymore.
I’ll blame my body and my cane as I watch my peers climb the ladders, learn, and really develop themselves. I’ll blame my race and my inabilities. But I know that I just suck and that’s an awful feeling. I’m sure I’m being unfair to myself.
I’m Muslim, a lover of God and His chosen ones, and I don’t let a day pass without knowing this.
Yes I’ve failed at a lot in this dunya. But maybe God will have mercy and help me get through this world.
I need to be myself. The artist I am. The Muslim I am. The disabled body I am. Why am I pretending to be someone else?
I learned something about myself when I went to the library near my home. I didn’t think I would run into anyone I knew but I did one coworker. And it reminded me that I used to play push and pull with the guys of my past. Part of me still wanted to but he didn’t. It seems he moved on and has no reason to reach into his past while I’m still here trying to hold onto who I used to be/
I’m not who I was. Firstly, physically I am not capable of doing many things I used to do. Mentally I am able to do more but there are days when I need a break. Lastly, I thought I was looking for marriage but here I am trying to play around again - I don’t want to be that kid anymore. I was mean, angry, and inconsiderate. I am not those things anymore (I can’t be).
I wanted to study at the library because I dont have a bed here to distract me but I cant even sit in these chairs since theyre not ergonomic. It hurts so much... my body hurts and I want to cry all over again. I want to go home but I know I’ll sleep!
My hands don’t work the same way they used to... how do you tell people that? It’s like I have to relearn how to write, draw, and paint.
If you just want to talk to someone but too tired to speak. Or you want to write it out but your fingers and hands hurt how do you ask for help?
Slm i just want to say that i am bipolar with a humungus sex drive. I am married now and husband is overseas. Now i have these urges to masturbate although i know its wrong but i cant help it. It just makes me so at ease
Wsalaam,I can understand how difficult it is for you constantly being pushed and pulled in different directions.Taking this step to prioritize yourself - to care for yourself - already proves you are a strong individual. I know it is a difficult time for you but I want to remind you of all the times you didn’t feel this way, and you won’t always feel this way. I still don’t know how to use all the functions of Tumblr so I only learned you messaged today. I used to masturbate for several years - it took over my adolescence. It’s still so traumatic to remember. It took me 40 days to stop and I’ve been close to doing it a few times after that. Alhamdulillah, I haven’t done it for maybe 2 years now.
How are you and how can I support you?
Something needs to be said for these aching arms of mine.
I had been building myself for today for the last 2 weeks only to have intense anxiety at the door... my parents think its easy for me to just “go to mosque”. I’m laughing because I’ve told them I have severe anxiety especially because I need a cane to walk.
I am laughing.
and I am crying.
and I am breaking.
They ask me why I don’t tell them anything. How am I supposed to explain to them that I already do and that I don’t have the answers they want - I can’t give them scientific proof or reasoning for pain. And I don’t want to search for it... I have a whole life ahead of me and I refuse to continuously look back for the reasonining behind things that have happened to me and I have no control over. I have a life.
How am I supposed to explain to them when they already hate my cane. They’ve hated in the day a got it. They’ve hated that I “think” I need it.
I can’t walk. I am in pain. I tell them these things but they said I have to “fight it”. They say I shouldn’t use my cane to “show off” that I’m disabled. To tell someone who is disabled not to show off is laughable. Am I weak, then, because I need a mobility device? AM I FUCKING WEAK?
They question why I stay in my room all day or why I’m always on my phone, or why I stay late downtown and go on the weekends. How am I supposed to tell them that I have anxiety with them because they don’t trust me when I say I need support. I need the support for decisions I make. I need support to hold a cane and face the world and not feel ashamed of my body. I need support to take my medication. I need support when I say I want to go to graduate school.
I am not laughing anymore.
I am sobbing.
And I’m broken as hell.
I don’t know what to title this because any title I can think of has been said before.
Living your life the way you are expected to is disabling. They expect me to be home on the weekends but I’m expected to be at school. They expect me to be happy but no matter how hard I try I have to cry some times. They expect me to follow my religion but I’m not even sure if I can make it to the next day with sanity.
And after writing just three lines I realize they are right to expect these things from me. Except my priorities are different than theirs - my priorities put me in danger. Why do I value putting myself in danger?
