If I’m honest with myself at this point in time… Life is shit.
And I mean that in a.. ‘I’m not in a good place mentally’ kind of way.
The past few months have been the worst for my mental health ever. I’ve never thought about suicide more in my life. I’ve just been unhappy..Unhappy, being more like a descriptive placeholder word umtil I can better describe the mad depressive periods where getting out of bed took too much energy, and was punctuated with cycles of incredible anxiety that would send me into a spiral of crying that would not stop.
I was tired of living, and I so desperately was waging a battle in my own head that I wished someone could pull me out of. I needed my friends. I needed to feel human and worth something. When you doubt your own actual self-worth that you deem yourself unworthy of existing.. there’s a lot of pain there. Deep emotional pain that feels like someone branded you with a hot iron that never healed.
Pain. Let’s talk about pain. That horrible anxiety that tightened my chest so much it hurt to breathe, making me feel that it was easier to send the 2000 kg vehicle in my hands careening off the road to my inevitable end rather than have to deal another minute with that incredible pain.. pain that hurt me physically all the way to the edges of my soul. Dear God, please don’t let me experience that again. I’ve had enough.
I think what makes this all worse is that all of this is coming from within.. That it’s no longer external stimuli, it’s a battle being waged in my own head. To the rest of the world, I’m being happy-go-lucky kitty… but those who can see past the chipped paint facade and smiles that never reach the corners, they can see the tracks of tears and the aching to die.
And those that do see it, the few that are let in.. are those who bolster what little faith I have, who give me the strength that I so desperately need. The hugs have come few and far between.. but they have meant something.
What I needed has been seriously lacking from the people who mean the most. But perhaps that is my own fault. I expected a level of friendship from that I myself extended, but like most things, high expectations lead to mighty disappointments. If they have failed, it is only because what they don’t know is not their fault. Friendship is not about expectations.. so they who I want to lean on, I think we’ll revisit our friendship when I am better. Maybe.
For now, I’ve made the decision to heal myself. To fill the empty spaces in my heart and mind, and to heal my soul and spiritual self. Also to heal my life.
This is why I have chosen to do 100 days of hustle. 100 days of doing something everyday with full intention. To be fully present in my life, to be appreciative of what I have and am capable of and to try to have better religious practice. I need to make that personal one to one phone call to God, and make it a regular thing.
I also need to forgive myself. I need to acknowledge that the walls of mistrust I have, that the constant anger and fury that I whip up to protect myself from being hurt… is a product of the fact that I have not absolved or forgiven myself. That the 7 year old girl, and the 22 year old woman, who suffered sexual violence and mistreatment at the hands of others is not to blame, and is very much a worthy person. You, Aliya, are worthy of life and love. You are not damaged goods that deserves to be vilified and punished for something you did not wish for or have done to you. Every inch of you is blessed, and is not a canvas for knives, nails and permanent cuts and injuries. You, Aliya, are a person capable of beautiful things. You are not tissue paper… You are not used up and tossed aside waiting to be digested in the soil of the earth… You are a person who is lost in the woods, and can’t see the forest for the trees. You can love and you need to be loved, and the person who needs to love you is yourself. These are some of the hardest words to write and acknowledge, but everyday, you are going to look in the mirror and tell yourself.. “I am not damaged goods. I am a person worthy of love, and I love myself.”
Today, I watched a video that spread a powerful message :
Life is like going the wrong way on a moving walkway. Stand still and you go backwards. Walk and you stay put. Gotta hustle to get ahead.
I was walking too slow on the moving walkway of life.. Moving backwards instead of forwards, despite trying to get somewhere. Today that changes. Today marks the first day in #onehundreddaysofhustle.