Category Archives: My struggles

healing, My struggles, Poetry

Another Notch on the Belt

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By: Maham Abid

The creaky office felt sterile and cold.

My brimming anxiety grew into something bold.

One more visit down—another notch on the belt,

What’s wrong isn’t always clear to see, but it is deeply felt.

It keeps being suggested that it is “all in my head.”

But if that’s really so, why is my body responding with distress?

I admit I can be neurotic and full of unnecessary fear,

But I’ve lived most of my life with anxiety looming near.

That’s precisely how I identified these new symptoms as severe.

I am no stranger to silently analyzing the absurdity of my worry.

So, how ironic is it that when I finally speak up, I’m dismissed in such a hurry?

Why won’t someone validate the sensations that I feel?

I have no ulterior motive; I just want to heal.

So today, as I sit stiffly in yet another sterile waiting room,

My mind can’t help but wander off to similar memories of gloom.

This doctor, too, shall say that he can’t specify what’s wrong.

And refer me for more poking & prodding–which will only prolong–

–me suffering silently, trying to make sense of what is really going on.

This entire process has felt like crazy-making at its worst,

The constant dismissal of my symptoms feels like a curse.

Is it ungrateful of me to almost hope they find something soon?

So I can finally get some reprieve from the sense of impending doom?

Of course, I don’t want it to be something that doesn’t have a cure.

What I desire is external proof to validate my intuition for sure.

At any point now, another physician will walk in.

He will talk at me in medical jargon that’ll make my head spin.

I know our dear doctors see innumerable patients every day,

but communicating genuine care is not an ethic to be pushed away.

I understand that sometimes answers are complex and hard to find,

But perhaps being transparent with me won’t leave me feeling as resigned.

How is it that the people with the most knowledge of all,

–are the very ones that leave so many feeling unheard and small?

“Something is wrong!”, my intuition cries.

“I’m truly not here based on fabricated lies.”

It is okay for professionals to not have all the answers quite yet,

but empathy and care are traits that no human should forget.

If we continue to view our patients as “just another one”,

We will, carelessly, add more damage to what was already done.

#NotAnotherNotchOnTheBelt

Love you always, all ways

IG: @mahamabidtalent

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@mahamabidtalent

My struggles, psychology, Trauma, Uncategorized

Unpacking “Self-compassion”

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Understanding Self-Compassion

“Unpacking WHAT?” I blurted out aloud, years ago. I was in the middle of attending a continuing teaching certification course.

“Unpacking standards,” the speaker repeated, much slower, almost to be clapping out the syllables.

Judging by the blank stare on my early teacher face, she looked up to my Bambi, doe-eyed self, and repeated, once again, “yes–really figuring out how you measure the things we ask you to measure.”

Floored. I was floored. My brain had never thought that far.

We have these objectives–these assessment tools–“points of relativity” from which we are supposed to evaluate humans…in comparison to how they are doing to other humans. 💁‍♀️

Each educator at every level has seen them, heard of them and even had them beat into their nightmares.

Yet so few times do we have John Maxwell type “leaders” who truly take time to explain what these subjectively defined target points mean. In my 8 years of teaching, I’ve seldom had someone really break down what each objective means– into real world, observable, measurable examples I could observe in the classroom.

How am I supposed to know what a 5 year old looks like when they are “applying knowledge of structure and phonics to decode text?” That sentence alone makes my own head explode 🤯

So here is a blog post about unpacking self-compassion.

~Self Compassion: What it is it about?~

Self-compassion, as defined by researcher Dr. Kristin Neff, involves treating yourself with the same kindness, care, and understanding that you would extend to a loved one in distress. The three core components are:

1. Mindfulness

Observing your feelings without judgment or over-identification.

This is the one with whom I continue to wrestle a challenging relationship with. WE have a lot to learn about one another (which means…I have a lot of surrendering to do #nottodaysatan

2. Common Humanity

Realizing that suffering and imperfection are shared human experiences.

Curiosity is a safer friend to sit with alone; sometimes the daunting intonations of its’ companions, shame and hope, are more arduous to sit with together.

Realizing that suffering and imperfection are shared human experiences.

3. Self-Kindness

Acknowledging your pain with warmth and understanding, rather than criticism.

Self-compassion isn’t self-pity, passivity, or a lack of accountability. Instead, it’s a powerful tool to support “emotional well-being”, especially for individuals processing trauma or working toward healing:

Why Self-Compassion Matters

When life’s challenges become overwhelming (and they will), self-compassion serves, as an anchor. Research shows that compassion-focused practices can reduce anxiety, depression, and feelings of shame, key obstacles for those healing from PTSD or cPTSD. A lack of self-compassion amplifies self-criticism and isolation, leaving many trapped in cycles of guilt or fear. Embracing self-compassion creates a foundation for healing and reconnecting with yourself.

In a fast-paced world that values hustle, achievement, and productivity, self-compassion often takes a backseat. For many—including those dealing with trauma, PTSD, cPTSD, or the aftermath of difficult experiences like assault—

Practicing kindness toward yourself can feel foreign, or even impossible. However, self-compassion is a vital step toward healing and empowerment.

In the next informative blog post, you’ll discover 10 simple yet transformative ways to cultivate self-compassion, backed by mindfulness, presence, and gentle practices you can integrate into everyday life.

Love you always, ALL ways!

IG: @mahamabidtalent

healing, My struggles, psychology, Trauma

Finding Strength in the Storm

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Navigating Life Immediately After Trauma

Trauma has a way of upending our world in an instant. For women who have bravely endured rape, abuse, or assault, the initial aftermath can feel like standing in most turbulent part of a hurricane—overwhelmed, shaken, unsure where to turn.

While the emotional chaos may feel insurmountable, it’s important to know this: healing is possible, and you don’t have to navigate this journey alone. How do I know this? Because you’re proof. You merely reading this blog post by some random stranger shows me that despite how I may feel at times, I’m not actually alone.

My goal for this blog post is to offer insights, actionable steps, and compassionate guidance to help us begin the process of recovery, no matter the crisis. We have already shown extraordinary strength by surviving. Now, let’s focus on taking the first steps toward healing.

1. Acknowledge the Overwhelm: You are not broken.

The days immediately following trauma are often filled with a tangle of emotions—shock, guilt, anger, sadness, and fear. These feelings are not a sign of weakness or failure. They are a normal response to an abnormal event. Trauma impacts both the mind and body, and understanding this can be the first step toward regaining control.

Take a moment to remind yourself that what happened to you does not define who you are. You are not broken. If you take anything away from this pedantic blog, please let it be this: you are not broken. We are simply responding to a devastating experience, and that, in itself, is a reflection of your humanity.

ACTIONABLE STEP: Begin by naming your emotions. Journaling, voice recording, or even speaking aloud to yourself can help you identify and process these feelings. This first step is vital in beginning to untangle the emotional storm inside.

2. Prioritize Your Safety and Basic Needs

The immediate aftermath of trauma can leave you feeling unsafe in your own skin. Reestablishing a sense of security, both physically and emotionally, is crucial. That might mean creating boundaries with people who don’t support your recovery or avoiding places that trigger painful memories.

Coming from a culture in which we aren’t to date, it is so easy to pin any sort of negative domestic exchange on the women. The dissolution of a marriage? a woman’s fault. The husband cheating? it’s the woman’s fault. Assault, abuse, rape? No brainer. WOMAN’S FAULT.

And honestly, I don’t think it’s an exclusively cultural thing. I see it everywhere–in every continent; that makes my heart very sad.

If I had a penny for every time I’ve sought out support and understanding in contemporary culture and heard the statements above instead, I would be a millionaire—

“See, this is why Allah swt told you not to date–He knew these things would happen (which to some extent, I agree), –so it is your fault. If you hadn’t dated, you wouldn’t have suffered ______”

I digress.

In the aftermath of a crisis, it is equally important to tend to your physical needs as well, such as adequate sleep, nourishing food, and hydration. These seem like small tasks, but they lay the foundation for emotional healing.

ACTIONABLE STEP: If safe, reach out to a trusted support system, whether it’s a friend, family member, hotline, or therapist. Convey your need for safety and begin to design a personal plan to help you feel grounded.

3. Give Yourself Permission to Feel

Survivors of rape and abuse often try to suppress their feelings, either out of fear of being judged or because the feelings are too hard to face. However, bottling up your emotions will only prolong your pain. It’s okay to cry, yell, rest, or express your emotions in a way that feels safe for you.

One of the most painful consequences of trauma is feeling invalidated—whether that’s by others or your own inner critic. You may hear thoughts like:

  • it was my fault
  • it was because i wore that
  • it was because I drank too much
  • it was because I was vulnerable. I knew I shouldn’t have gone.
  • it was because I dated.
  • it was because I asked for it.
  • it was because I don’t remember it.

The list goes ON and ON. But you know what I find to be the motif among the list….

“It was because I deserved it'”.

ACTIONABLE STEP- Try journaling as a form of release. Write without censuring yourself—this is a space just for you. Putting your feelings into words can help you process what happened and regain some sense of control. Remember, feelings are not right or wrong; they are simply part of your healing process.

For me, writing poetry is such a cathartic experience. When I’m flooded with intrusive thoughts, I start finding words that rhyme in my head. Honestly, as a kindergarten teacher, it works. It takes quite a bit of brain power to generate words that rhyme–much less, string them together in a sentence that abstractly captures my feelings.

Understand the Immediate Aftermath of Trauma

When trauma occurs, your body and mind react instinctively to process what happened. These reactions—whether they manifest as numbness, fear, anger, guilt, or disbelief—are completely normal. Your brain is trying to make sense of something senseless and figure out how to protect you moving forward.

Many survivors describe feeling like they’re in a fog or like life has suddenly changed in an instant. After a sexual assault or act of abuse, the fight-or-flight response remains heightened, leading to physical and emotional exhaustion. The first step in addressing these overwhelming reactions is to remind yourself: everything you’re feeling right now is a valid response to trauma.

Our journey to healing starts with self-compassion.

And that’s what we’ll dive deeper into in my next post–practicing self-compassion.

But for now…

ACTIONABLE STEP: Start practicing and incorporating self-compassion.

Love you, all ways, always.

IG: @mahamabidtalent

My struggles, Poetry, Trauma

Fragments

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April 19th, 2025

Most days, I feel as if I’m grasping at straws,

like a cat gripping the edge of a well with all her claws.

But, unlike her, if I manage to get out–

I can’t trek this Earth without fear and doubt.

It feels as if someone swirled a ladle inside my brain.

The memories–cracked and fragmented–yet the pain remains the same.

The resourceful rescuer that lives in my head–

–has tried its hardest to put the tormenting thoughts to rest.

But the benevolent body–it never forgets.

It may silence the screams, but it stores them as stress.

Version 1.0.0

Then, one day, when nothing seems to have gone awry at all–

–as the trees shed what is dead, and autumn leaves begin to fall.

A piercing cry echoes through the crisp air.

The horror in her howling is almost too much to bear.

“Someone needs my help!”; so I search frantically around to see–

–only to find that the bleeding bellow escaped from none other than me.

My struggles, Poetry, Trauma

Softness

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By: Maham Abid Written: 04/21/2025

Perhaps, it’s finally time to let my guards down.

When you’re hurting alone, it doesn’t matter if you have a crown. 

How can I easily fool myself this well?

I can easily camouflage as “sunshine” to those going through hell.

It’s all a facade, and I know you can see right through.

It’s me who has been unwilling to look at the pain that’s clearly true.

The type of strife that you will get to hear, 

might bring even the “strongest ones” of you to tears. 

Some may think this isn’t an appropriate story to share.

But selfishly, sharing with you all makes me feel a little less scared.

The parts of my story that seem too daunting to bear–

Suddenly don’t appear clouded with fear, all because I dared to share.

Maybe doing it “alone” is not the way to go…

It’s equal parts petrifying to let the real “me” finally show.

Rejection, and judgement are not at all what I need right now.

I need a place to process this grief, to feel, and let it all out.

But, being judged, ostracized, and the things I fear most—

—are ironically the ones I’ve experienced the most up-close.

It’s irrelevant because I already feel unworthy of belonging and love,

but maybe human connection is my “prayer answered” from above.

What if, little by little, I begin to let others in?

Perhaps, I won’t feel like such an unforgivable sin.

So when I begin to ponder about my roller-coaster of a life,

My assuming the role of the “black sheep” doesn’t come as a surprise.

Sure, there are benefits to being “big, bad, and bold..”

Yet, softness can warm up crumpled crevices

that fickle fear won’t ever have the privilege to hold.

Love you all ways, always ❤

IG: @mahamabidtalent

motherhood, My struggles, Uncategorized

Last name: Ever; First name: Worst

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Hello my friends,

I know I’ve been posting a lot about the “highlights” of my journey. However, I don’t want to promote toxic positivity; in reality, my journey really has been a roller coaster ride; ever since I found out that I had PCOS, which naturally perpetuated insulin resistance, my world and body have made a complete 180.

Or that’s what I’d ideally like to think.

I have made some serious changes to my diet and exercise. The amount of discipline I’ve dedicated to restoring my health has been somewhat of a shock to me. Honestly, at the beginning of April, I wondered if I’d ever be able to stick with a routine.

Don’t get me wrong. I AM proud of myself.

But, today is just not one of those days I feel that way.

Have you ever cued into your body’s messages and realized that something feels off–like you’re off-centered, or off-balance?

Yet, for the life of it, you cannot seem to pinpoint the concrete event that triggered that feeling in the first place.

Today, I’ve been experiencing unsettling sensations in my body. I can feel, intuitively, that something has triggered me; however, I can’t seem to place my thumb on what that trigger was. These icky sensations have started to manifest themselves physiologically as well.

I feel like I got hit by a train today. That’s especially strange since yesterday was a rest day; my body “should” be feeling rejuvenated but it doesn’t. I’ve felt more fatigued today than I have in the last 30 days. So much so that I had to call out of work as I was barely able to wake up.

WHAT IS GOING ON WITH ME!?

It’s so strange because if I witness my mind, I can catch myself wandering towards self-sabotage. An odd feeling; I encourage everyone to try it. It’s like having an out-of-body experience. You start having thoughts like:

Whoa! “Maham” really wants to act on the urge to self sabotage. “Maham” is feeling really upset. “Maham is wanting to act out.”…

Speaking of acting out, I ate all the carbs I could today.

Even though, I knew they would make me feel horrible. And they did.

My body literally sent them right back up, and out. And you know what I did afterwards?

EAT MORE CARBS.

WTF

So with that knowledge, most would find it reasonable to go on a run, take a good pilates class, or engage in some HIIT; most would move towards the direction of improving their present situation.

But not me.

I have continued lying in bed, in and out of sleep, literally paralyzed with this insidious feeling of unease.

And it’s not because I have no one to share these painful feelings with. It’s more of an inability to ACTUALLY get myself to a place where I feel courageous enough to be seen & heard.

It feels like crazymaking when you can acknowledge the support system around you, and STILL not utilize it.

This “off” feeling is undoubtedly affecting my relationship with Ayrah– which honestly leads tomy feeling even more worthless.

I swear, children are so intuitive; nothing gets past them. I’ve seen it happen with infants, toddlers, elementary school children and even our middle schoolers. Similarly, I can try and put on my best facade for Ayrah, but she can read right through the BS to my true energy.

The million dollar question…

WHY has some part of me become hellbent on destroying the progress I’ve made?

I…don’t know.

that is the most authentic answer I can give to all of you and myself right now.

I don’t know about yall, but not “knowing” makes me feel even more nervous. Uncertainty and I still are building a relationship. On my best days, I’m able to tolerate it. That’s it though.

There has been no embracing it with open arms or making it an ally 🚫

and then I get so HARD on myself….!

I “should” know right? I “should” be able to pick myself up out of this one random overcast day, right?

I should–especially because I have a Masters in this “mind stuff”. I’ve been taught the stuff to say, the interventions to use, given the worksheets to utilize and skills to practice….

If I was trained & entrusted with helping others walk through their uncertainty & triggers, shouldn’t i just be able do it for myself???

……

But I can’t.

THAT is the confounding paradox.

Something is wrong. I don’t know what it is. But, I feel it with such a powerful intuition! For my yogis, and reiki companions, I feel a palpable blockage in my throat and heart chakras. It’s like there’s a disruption between what my heart is feeling and my ability to communicate it to my environment 🌏

It feels like there is a frog in my throat. Like each time I attempt to speak up, the “cat gets my tongue” and I’m left a blubbering mess.

I feel similar to what Hansel & Gretel might’ve felt–I’m trying to find my way to a specific, concrete destination while not knowing where/what it is.

It’s interesting becauseI can tell my body is trying to communicate with me. I find the unsettling somatic sensations analogous to the bread-crumbs that Hansel and Gretel dropped on their path. They are clues that are meant to lead me back home. These visit sensations are trying, relentlessly, to communicate with me. They are constantly alerting me of the deviation from our natural emotional homeostasis.

I don’t know about you, but I often find myself starting to let shame slip through the doors during times like this. It’s hard not to.

The inner critic takes center stage and starts declaring these statements that sound ludicrous, that are ludicrous, and yet somehow…they still affect me.

“Omg! You ate a mini can of Pringles today…all your progress is ruined.! You’re a failure. Save yourself the dissapointment of keeping up with a healthy diet or workout routine, because we both know you’re going to fail. Do you want to feel that worthless again? So stop while youre ahead.”

When I type it out, it sounds crazy; I know it does.

What’s even crazier is that when it’s not typed out–and instead, fired directly from my brain to my body, without enough time for reflection, I actually start to BELIEVE the unreasonable monologue.

I know that a lot of people who have experienced trauma go through similar experiences. Trauma tends to fragment our thoughts, emotions and sensations in an attempt to protect us from overwhelming pain. The final part of trauma recovery involves the integration of these “compartments” and I can’t honestly say that I have completed full reintegration. Sure, there are times when I feel more integrated than others. however, at times like this…I feel at a loss

.

Many trauma researchers have theorized that painful emotions during a traumatic event usually get stored in the body as tension and pain. If not treated, these may lead to the onset of physical diseases.

Consequently, it makes perfect sense that the body could experience discomfort long before the mind can subconsciously pull out, and identify the focalized trigger or cascade of events that caused the unsettling sensations in the first place.

If you haven’t already, I highly recommend my friends undergoing trauma recovery to pick this book up. It is a life changer!

Sigh– since I’m at a loss, I’m going to throw it out to you guys!

What do you do if/when you feel this way?

I am trying to practice self-compassion but I feel so much shame—especially in the motherhood arena.

I get Ayrah only during the holidays so I put this extra pressure on myself to ENJOY and spend every single moment with her. It’s unrealistic.

and when I’m unable to do so, I feel like I’m a horrible mother. i feel like a failure. I feel like I’m inflicting these massive, irreversible wounds of abandonment or trauma in my child. But I KNOW that children are resilient. I KNOW that you don’t have to be the perfect parent; you just have to be ENOUGH. But KNOWING those things is not enough to stop the distorted thoughts from morphing into deep shame.

“Look at you…”, my mind snarls, “you go teach other parents’ kids all day long–you give them your best, only to come home to your child completely depleted, drained, and grumpy. She gets to have ethe worst of you. Great job, Maham.”

“And oh yeah, let’s not forget that you don’t even get for the whole year. She’ll be gone by the end of the summer, probably thanking God that she doesn’t have to be around a wreck of a mother.”

Thoughts like these create that dreaded negative feedback loop, where my belief of failing keeps me from being authentic and present with my child. When I’m not transparent with Ayrah, she can sense it and I know she can sense it. That just results in my confirming the “belief” that I’m a “failure”. And round and round we go…

till it bleeds into every and ANY interaction I have with my wonderful, magnificent daughter.

For now, I’m going to ride this wave out, let the emotions move through me, deliver their messages and move OUT of me. I want to keep you all updated as it helps me stay accountable.

In the meantime, I’d really appreciate any advice, ideas or suggestions about how you’ve managed to stay “relatively” sane through these ” emotional ruts”. And if you don’t have any, it would mean so much to me if you could practice enough vulnerability and share similar struggles that you may have had. Brene Brown, renowned author and sociologist, states that the most POWERFUL words we can communicate to one another during a time of pain or shame are “Me too”. I believe this is because it helps normalize the icky feelings we all may feel from time to time. For me, it lets me know that I’m not crazy or alone in feeling these ways at times. I hope its okay to KNOW what to do yet still not quite have mustered the motivation to actually implement it.

Would ❤️ to hear from you,

Till tomorrow—here is to hoping I don’t eat the entire Costco box of all the Pringles containers by the AM 😉

Love you, all ways, always.

🅜🅐🅗🅐🅜 🅐🅑🅘🅓

My struggles

Returning to Myself (Part II)

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If you have found yourself stumbling on my blog, the first thing I want you to know is that I have no idea what I’m doing. The second thing I want to share with you, in an attempt to tease out my own narrative from others, is MY story.

After almost 3 decades of dissociation, I am exhausted.

It’s not a matter of whether or not I want to be the “bubbly, outgoing” Mrs. Sunshine anymore.

Because trust me, I do

—that “facet” of me is far more…personable. It’s more cheerful & loveable.

The problem is that no matter how hard I try, I simply CANNOT maintain it any longer.  I have lost my ability to dissociate.

I have been “too strong” for “too long”.

It’s ironic, though, because I’ve never felt weaker.

My “functionality” if measured by productivity and performance has plummeted severely, and yet–mental health professionals seem to agree that this is the “best” I’ve been doing in decades.

Why?

Because after decades, I have started to FEEL again.

“In my 40 years of practice,” an esteemed psychiatrist stated, “your case is one of the most compelling and confounding cases I’ve encountered.”

“With the intensity and frequency of traumas that you have experienced, I would expect you to be curled up in a mental health facility for life—probably, on the verge of psychosis.”  

To them, “these darker components” of me are completely congruent with the horrific experiences I’ve gone through.

The problem, they declare IS the façade.

That ditzy, bubbly, “happy-go-lucky” persona does not accurately reflect the life I’ve lived; It does not reveal the struggles I face or do justice in celebrating the adversities I’ve overcome.

For so long, I viewed my ability to get everything “done” in a tormenting environment as my greatest strength. Being able to “detach myself from my feelings” has been the key to all my successes.

Or so I thought.

When we cut ourselves off from our “feelings”, we aren’t just blocking out the negative emotions; We, inadvertently, also lock our hearts from experiencing joy, intimacy, love, and connection.

It isn’t normal to get beaten brutally at 5 am, letting myself cry for about 5 minutes, and then forcing myself to shut down and “get my sh*t together”.

I remember walking to the library in the early hours of the morning, completely numb–absolutely oblivious to what had just happened. I studied for a few hours—only to arrive at my 8 am organic chemistry class to ace exam after exam.

It’s as nothing even happened. I didn’t feel pain. I didn’t feel sad. I didn’t feel at all.

I remember noticing the odd glances, the hushed whispers, and the puzzled expressions of my classmates, as I pranced into the auditorium covered in bruises.

At the time, I thought there was something wrong with everyone else. Why were they staring at me?

The day of my final exam was no different. I walked in at 8 am; I recall my professor pulling me aside; I remember studying him curiously as he tried not to glare at the blue-black bruises that were now forming around my eye sockets.

He empathically offered to arrange for me to take the exam another day, however, just like every other time, I resisted his offer. Instead, I marched vehemently to my seat to ace the exam.

& I did. I graduated with summa cum laude; what i didn’t realize was that the cost of those “perfect 4.0’s” would eventually catch up to me.

You see…my professor had seen me throughout the year, pulling off these dissociative stunts nearly every week.

& as the semester continued, his growing suspicions became more and more plausible. It is saddening now as I think about it–

— because I know that he “knew” what was going on. His hands were tied because I denied everything.

Every week, it was a new excuse, “oh I ran into a blunt tree branch because I wasn’t looking”, “I accidentally fell and hit my cheekbones against the console”, “Besides, I have anemia and tend to bruise really easily..”

“It’s really nothing” I said over and over again–until I accidentally started believing it.

In retrospect, I think ANYONE with half a brain probably “knew” what was going on at the time.

The problem was that I had shunned that “half of MY brain” deep into ignorant oblivion.

Recently…I’ve realized I’m doing something similar again.

I’ve been utilizing my social media platforms as a way to convince MYSELF that I’m “okay”.

Maybe if I just manufacture a life that FEELS good on Instagram, I might feel “okay”….

However, the truth is… I am not okay.

I don’t think I’ve ever experienced what “okay” actually feels like…

 I haven’t been even close to being “okay” for the last 7 months.

 I haven’t driven my car in 7 months because I’m terrified.

I haven’t gone to a single modeling shoot in 7 months.

I haven’t applied to a single casting call in 7 months.

I’ve barely left the house for 7 months.

I haven’t hung out with anyone I consider a friend for 7 months.

I’ve finally crashed.

What I HAVE done in the last 7 months is hide behind my phone –

I’ve wasted countless hours laboring over Instagram algorithms, hashtags, and engagement strategies in an attempt to gain external validation from all of you because I loathe myself.

I dove headfirst into trying to portray a life that “looked good” on the surface because, in my heart of hearts, I felt so hopeless, sad, and repulsed by myself.

— but what I’ve noticed is…

…the more adamant I become about my attempts to “fake it”, the more drained, lost, and depleted I feel at the end of the day.   

And the vicious cycle of distracting myself from the self-hatred goes on and on.

The truth is…

that through social media, I was being inauthentic with myself…with God…and with all of you.

& it’s ironic because in my heart of hearts, I truly believe that connection and community are byproducts of authenticity and vulnerability—two things I am fatally afraid of actually practicing.

Despite how much I crave connection and belonging, I haven’t allowed myself to be vulnerable or authentic—in a very long time.

In my adolescent days, when I did practice vulnerability–when I did truly let someone in— I nearly lost my life to their abuse.

However, advanced medicine and meticulously trained doctors helped revive & restore my physical body to health.

But who do you go to help you revive your soul? How do you restore someone’s sense of safety in the world after it’s been taken away?

The truth is…I had stopped “living” long before my heart ever gave out.

I don’t know where to begin my story.

I haven’t come up with a strategy to tell it. There is no rhyme or reason.

& for the first time, there are no angles.

I don’t even know if sharing the ENTIRETY of all the horrific details surrounding these incidents is even helpful to me or you.  

I don’t want to trigger you or re-traumatize me.

& these blog posts take a lot out of me.

Honestly, I don’t know much at all right now.

What I DO know is—I have to start somewhere.

I have to start— because I want to live.

I want to connect.

I want to move and be moved by people.

I want to feel like I’m worthy enough to take space in this world.

I want to feel like I’m worthy of being Ayrah’s mother.

I know that I eventually want to use my experiences to help elucidate the hope, resilience, and relentless will to survive that lies dormant within each of us.

How curious it is that the words of a stranger online—some that I’ve never even met—help to feel more understood than some of my closest confidantes.

I posted, authentically, for the first time on Instagram a few days ago—

& the responses I received from you all—your messages glowing with genuine care—

I cant disregard or downplay how much they meant to me.

They bring me to tears even now.

How is it that mere acquaintances and even strangers can communicate such a piercingly deep empathy for another?

And what’s more confounding is that they can do it over an impersonal digital platform.

What a puzzling and powerful world we live in…

So…for those of you who are willing to walk alongside me in this journey…

Please know that it is going to be the furthest thing from perfect; In fact, it’s probably going to be a very messy ride.

I wanted to thank YOU

For caring. For existing. For reaching out.

–for helping me get to a point where I am willing to myself be seen.

If there is one thing I want to make abundantly clear through my blog, it’s this—

The EFFECT that even ONE person, like you, can have on another’s life is immeasurable.

Your responses led me to question the unchallenged abusive & demeaning narratives I’ve been repeating to myself for years.

Because…

WHAT IF those people were wrong?

What if I do share myself openly with you—with the world—and I discover that I AM actually worthy of love and belonging?

What if I hush the voices that tell me that I will be rejected, ostracized, and ridiculed again just long enough to be seen for who I am?

Even though, this may be the scariest endeavor of my life—

What if, to my surprise, I find that the world loves me back just as deeply as I love it?

What if all the “sunshine” I’ve tried to sprinkle in the lives of so many is finally returned to me?

What if I’m not a waste of space? Or a burden to this earth?

What if I’m not “damaged goods” that no one will want after being raped?

And the biggest “What if?”

What if there ISN’T anything inherently wrong with me?

Or even better—

What if there is SO much wrong with me…

— & yet still, I am met with acceptance & love despite my numerous imperfections.

Here is to having enough courage to wonder….

What if…?

My struggles, Relationships

Returning to Myself (Part I)

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To the person I have loved the most—-

They say it is better to have “loved and lost” than to never have loved at all.

 I disagree.

I lost myself in you.

I almost lost myself TO you, literally.

You killed me once.

 The problem, you see, is that I followed faithfully in your footsteps.

I chose to stay.

I chose to retell, repeat, and relive the tormenting narrative you created for me.

I chose to kill myself, slowly—arduously—painfully—every single day—for decades.

Until now.

For as long as I can remember–my life, both figuratively and literally, has been in your hands.

As I sit here, sifting through the decades of dejection, I can wholeheartedly tell you that no person is worth sacrificing your sanity.

Day one or “one day…”?

Its finally day one.

Today is the day I finally let go.

I am shakily, and finally choosing differently.

& do you know the most pathetic part?

I am so scared.

Believing the delusion that your violence might have been “love” is far easier than accepting the fact that the “love” I romanticized was never there at all.   

I am so deathly afraid to let you go—

—even though you have been the most toxic, unhelpful relationship in my life…

I feel fear.

& it’s not because of the alternating black eyes, hushed bruises, or broken bones…

Those heal.

I’ve watched too many of them fade from my body like mirages on a hot day.

I trace my fingers over the ever-so-familiar, black-blue spots I’ve, now, come to find disturbing comfort in.

But they’re gone—

All that remains is the eerie echoes of your query whispers.

“If you looked like (her) _____, or carried yourself like (her)_______, then I wouldn’t be beating you…” you echo menacingly through time, “the reason I’m doing this is because there is something INHERENTLY wrong with you. You deserve this.”

Your words ring in my brain– taunting me, haunting me— till the singular motivation becomes about escape—

I must outrun the crippling hatred erupting relentlessly within me.  

And over decades of deterioration…I have tried to “escape”.

But I have no room to talk. You were right–

 I couldn’t even succeed at the one thing you’ve told me I should have always done.

The truth is, as you say, I am a coward.

I am spineless, identity-less, and lower than the scum on the bottom of the pond..

I couldn’t do it successfully. I came very close.

But “almost” doesn’t cut it.

Who expected a service dog to lounging silently on a neighbor’s porch on a freezing December night?

2020—

I ran 5 miles at my fastest pace–

My avid runners–ya’ll would be so proud of my splits!!!

I even beat my PR (personal [best] record)

& after approaching fatigue…I looked around to double check that no one was within sight.

& in the deafening silence of the night…

I carefully wrapped the ankle weights I use for strength training around my weary legs…

And I….jumped…into the deepest pond I had scouted out a few weeks before.

The clock had struck midnight—it was finally my birth “day”…December 4th.

The paralyzing pressure of the water, the languish in my legs, and the curling coldness enveloped me as I was unable to swim to the surface.

And the last thought I remember thinking, as I sank slowly to the bottom

—was tragically about you.

I thought about your cruel words.

“If you want to do the world a favor, Maham…”, you snarled in my slowing brain “just go ahead and do what is needed to be done”

And…. I couldn’t do it.

But I tried.

That damn service dog had alerted his owner with his incessant barking–causing a complete stranger to walk out–and see what was happening. 911.

“Just do it! kill yourself.” I heard under the murky, dark water.

My arms, naturally, fought to try to get to the surface.

But I couldn’t.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

I could feel my my lungs give out.

…and I fought—when it came down to it–I FOUGHT to try to get back up to the surface….

Until I heard the final echo of your voice that night….

“Everything you touch turns to misery anyway.”

I heard those last demeaning words…and I stopped fighting.

In that moment, I made the decision to let go.

I let flailing arms fall to my side and closed my eyes as I sunk towards the bottom.

& that was my last thought before losing consciousness.

The next thing I remember is waking up on the grass, on a stretcher, surrounded by EMTs pressing on me—and there it was—OUCH!!!!

All of a sudden, I was yanked back into reality—

–I was choking on the water that was, then, fervently flooding out of my mouth and nose at an unbearable pressure.

I have a momentary snapshot of me wrapped in a bright silver insulating blanket.

& I lost consciousness again…

I was struggling with hypothermia…[as I would come to find out later’

And finally…

I awoke in the ER..

I looked around, absolutely bewildered and puzzled.

& before I could fully become aware of what had happened, a deeper realization struck a chord so deep in my heart.

‘I am a failure’–I thought to myself. And I was. And I may still be. I was a failure in every sense of the word—.

I couldn’t even kill myself “right”.

But neither could YOU.

“I wish he had taken away your life when he ‘allegedly’ took your virginity,” I hear you screaming in my mind.

If anything, you have made it painfully clear that your life (and the lives of many others) would be a lot “bit brighter” without my presence.

“If you weren’t such a whore…then maybe you wouldn’t have gotten raped,”…

–at 14 years old—-with a knife–

Yes. The knife was utilized to “pop” my cherry.

To you, however, that’s irrelevant. It’s impertinent.

It is always my fault.

It has to be.

If I want to keep you in my life, I must always “dim” my light so you can shine brighter.

and so it begins…yet again…

An assortment of your agonizing remarks cycle through my head—at a merciless speed—

—over and over again—

My brain gets stuck on repeat like a broken record playing the same few tunes repetitively.

The tunes of my record are the stuff of nightmares.

The torment of your insidious insults continues till I want to rip my own head out of my body.

HELP!!!!!!

No human can stay immune to the missiles of such fiery self-hatred forever…

So what does one do when that unrelenting, merciless abuse starts to come from their own brain?

& just like that–

—I find myself thrust into the 9th circle of hell from Dante’s Inferno.

& so…I do what I’ve always done…

I dissociate.

 I leave my body.

and for a few fleeting moments, everything…feels… a little bit ‘lighter’—a little bit further.

As your ridiculing remarks become more muffled and harder to decipher,

the ominous panic boiling inside of me steadily slows to a soft, sufferable simmer.

and there “I” am…soaring…above it “all”.

There I am– simply watching a homosapien named “Maham” go through some not-so-cute stuff.

I watch my body curiously as it floats above me—

and “I” become lifeless.

& just like that—

All the pieces of my fragile psyche shatter into sharp, serrated fragments once again–

But

–at least–

I finally feel cold amidst the fire.

Gratitude Experiment, I ponder about life..., My struggles, Pregnancy, Uncategorized

The Gratitude Experiment: Week 2

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02/15/2016

I am so so thankful that my cousin’s surgery was successful! It went even better than the medical team had predicted. His chemotherapy had helped shrink the tumor to a miniscule amount, so it was quite easy to remove; the surgeons didn’t have to become too invasive and his diaphragm was left untouched! Consequently, the procedure was short and afterwards, Shuji was transferred directly to a hospital room. Yay! He had to spend no time in the ICU! And, guess what? He’s cancer-free!!!!! If that isn’t cause to celebrate, then I don’t know what is!

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I’m also feeling particularly thankful for such loving in-laws. I know many people have horror stories about “monster-in-laws”, but by the grace of God, I have been spared from the challenging trial; My in-laws are so sweet, and I really respect, admire and look up to them. I tell my mother-in-law that if I can raise my daughter to be half the person she raised ALL of her children to be, I’ll be pleased. I’m really thankful for the fact that I will be able to seek her advice as I raise my own daughter. I love how much my in-laws, and the entire extended family love me and care about me. I have never felt like they treated me any differently from their own. Even the extended family has accepted me with arms and hearts wide-open; now, I feel as if they are more like my OWN cousins rather than my husband’s. I am grateful that we live in proximity to the entire family; this gives me the opportunity to interact with them more often!

You know who my heart is especially grateful for recently? My sister-in-law.

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She is literally a ray of sunshine in the family, and in my own life. Through her silly imitations, to her cute little antics, she is consistently making everyone around her laugh and smile. Saman is one of the most caring people I’ve ever met; it’s really rare to find a person who is so balanced in terms of being cognitive, and being sentimental. She is a tigress—she has iron-clad strength and a will that is indomitable, but somehow, there is this undeniable softness about her too. Even though she is younger than me, I look up to her so much! Every time I see her, I’m so thankful for her. She protects, and loves me like I’m her own child.

Speaking of children, there is one aspect of interacting with my sister-in-law that I am so utterly thankful for. I don’t even know if my words will do an equitable job of capturing how grateful I feel about this—I am absolutely in awe of the continual excitement she expresses for her coming niece. I can’t even tell you how excited she is, lol. She is a akin to a cat around catnip every time there is any talk of her precious “niece-to-come!” Even if it’s something as ordinary as normal results from routine blood work, ultrasound images, or just chats about baby clothes…she becomes beyond ENTHUSED! Having that sort of powerful positive energy around me is SO beneficial. On some days, when I feel bloated, sick and irritated with pregnancy changes, I literally bring to mind HER excitement; her eagerness to meet my daughter rubs off on me, and starts to make me really excited once more. On some days, it is solely her pure-hearted joy and love for our daughter that recharges me, and inspires me to keep on persevering.

When my own motherly love gets clouded with the discomforts of the pregnancy process, it is HER love that floods in through my heart and fills in the gaps. My daughter is going to be so lucky to have her as an aunt; to be honest, I’m kinda jealous! 😛 The other day,  I was driving home after visiting my in-laws, and I literally turned to my husband and declared: “I have to DELIVER this child safely and soundly for Saman.” Her unwavering joy is such a motivating force for me. The fact that she is so excited for our daughter makes this process so much more appealing for us. Saman, you have always been such a source of joy, but I can’t even tell you how much my love has compounded for you throughout my pregnancy experience.

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02/16/2016

To tell you the truth, today was a really rough day. My self-image was distortedly horrible. I felt really terrible about myself, and this only led to me feeling more and more unlovable. What’s more is that when I’m feeling entrenched in the grips of depression, I feel like a burden to those around me. I feel like my sadness might be “contagious” and bring them down , so it becomes really hard for me to seek out support. It becomes hard to let others in, especially those whom I care about the most. I don’t want an ounce of negativity to scathe the ones I love–not even mine. But that’s a double edged sword, because my not reaching out leaves me feeling lonely and and rejected. This feeling of isolation only makes these days more unbearable.

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Being the kind, protecting, and caring soul that he is, I know that my husband will want to stay with me and do everything in his power to try to make me feel better. Unfortunately, sometimes there is nothing that he (or anyone else) can do in the immediate future to make it better. You know the kind of days I’m talking about? The only thing that makes these days okay again is time. Much like a virus, we have to sometimes let these emotional disturbances arise, let them take their course, and minimize the lingering effects they leave behind. At the same time, however, I recognize and appreciate how blessed I am that there are people in my life that WANT to help so eagerly. Today, I am grateful for the support that I always have available (regardless of my receptivity to it). I realize that it is such a huge blessing, and I feel so humbled that there is someone out there who is trying to help, even though I’m sure it is much easier to let the storm pass, and return when things are brighter!

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On days like today, I can see why the gratitude practice is so necessary. Today, I am finding that I’m more thankful for what didn’t absolutely go wrong, rather than all the wonderful things that happened. So, I’m thankful for time, and the fact that it is always passing; this makes it to where even the worst days can only last for a maximum of 24 hours. I’m thankful that I wasn’t hurt physically today, and that my health is still unimpaired; I am thankful for my limbs that allowed me to work out, and my mind that really shone through with its unwavering work ethic and discipline, (because trust me, what I really wanted to do was just lay in bed and mope all day). I am thankful for my family and friends, and their kind loving interactions with me. I’m thankful for all the things that could have gone wrong today, but didn’t—the weather was beautiful; the people in my life are safe and healthy; I am physically capable etc. But a part of me feels like I’m phony in writing these things; i feel like I’m not really connecting to them as I write them, and solely writing them because they are “the right things” to say.

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Let’s get honest. You know what I’m really thankful for? I’m really thankful that today is about to be over, and that tomorrow is a new day. I’m utterly grateful for hope, new beginnings and the fact that things can change. I’m thankful that, even though I have no guarantees, I have HOPE for a better day tomorrow, and you know what? I will cling to that today. I am thankful for sleep, because it is a time machine to get through tough times! I can’t wait to get some zZzzZz in soon. I’m thankful that I am partaking in this gratitude practice, and that I get a chance to write out my thoughts and feelings. I’m grateful for the possibility that once I publish this, even ONE of you might be able to relate to it and find some solace in this entry. I’m grateful for Netflix, and warm baths, and massages that seem to make days like today more manageable. And lastly, I am immensely immensely immensely thankful that this is only temporary. I am grateful for the knowledge that our minds are not always 100% honest with us. Just because I feel like I’m a crummy being doesn’t mean that I really am. My perception can be distorted. Thank GOD for that. I’m thankful for prayer and for the ability to be optimistic about the future. Ugh! and for heating pads…I have one wrapped around my lower back as I type this up and it is ever so soothing!

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So here’s to hoping for a better tomorrow, and for a big dollop of gratitude for the little things that went right/didn’t go wrong today!

02/17/16

Today was a beautiful day—one of those days that makes you sigh in peace as you rest your head to sleep. It’s not even like something astoundingly magical happened; rather, I think it was magical that I was aware enough to recognize the extraordinary in the ordinary moments. I’m so full of gratitude today and I’m so thankful to be feeling this way. Through this daily practice, I’ve come to realize that there is a natural rhythm/fluctuation in my relationship with gratitude; on some days, my heart is so full and content, and other days, it is more restless and dissatisfied. So above all, I am grateful for being able to notice and feel the beauty of the little things.

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I flew back home today to visit my family; I am thankful for a safe flight, and for the fact that we have accommodations that can allow us to visit loved ones and stay in touch. I’m thankful for my mom, and how she always has my favorite foods ready; I’m thankful for the burst of joy that I feel when I see my little sister for the first time; I’m grateful for my dad’s comforting embrace that just makes me feel like everything is right in the world again.

There’s something really lovely about being in your childhood room again—to lay in the same bed in which you used to dream about the things you have now. I can’t remember how many times I wished to find a loving, stable, and caring partner as I fell asleep here. I giggle as I recall how “being a mom one day” seemed like such a distant desire just a few years ago. Ah.

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I am also grateful for this really sweet interaction I had on the way home; in between my flights, I stopped by to use the restroom. The lady that was working there to maintain and upkeep the condition of the facility was so unbelievably sweet. It’s not so much what she did or didn’t do; it was her presence and demeanor that made the interaction. Her friendly tone and welcoming smile was enough to make my drowsy self feel more happy, simply by being around her.

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I am also really grateful for a simple exchange via Instagram. I reached out to an old high school friend and asked her what it felt like to be a mother; she responded enthusiastically, saying it was such a sweet experience! I could sense the genuineness in her response, and it made me eager to meet my own daughter!

You know what else I am so, over the moon, grateful for? The love that I feel from my husband’s family. The extended family is such a tight-knit support system and I’m so blessed to know them, and to be loved by them. Sweet little chats with them are such a breath of fresh air; I love that they tolerate my crazy cat lady memes, and forgive me so generously for my shortcomings. I truly have found new meaning to what it means to be a family after being married to Faraz. The way everyone watches out for one another, and cares for each other is downright inspiring. I love that we live so close to them; it gives me a first class seat to observe and experience the generosity, love and compassion they employ in their interactions.

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Speaking of extended families…I’m so utterly grateful to his cousins (which I lovingly claim as all mine now). Seriously though, each one of them…they are mine now. I am so grateful that for two twin cousins, alongside my sister-in-law, who are so eager to help plan out my baby shower!!! Sugar or spice? These girls are everything nice! From coming up with themes, to suggesting wall décor and party favors, I can tell that they are really trying to make this a special experience for me. And you know what?…it already is! I feel so loved, cared for and special already! Themes and colors aside…it is their eager desire for involvement that has had me floored and speechless. The fact that there are people in my life that want to make this a special occasion for me is so incomparably special! I don’t want to take that type of love for granted; I realize how blessed I am to share my life with angels who desire to see me smile and to experience my happiness, right next to me!

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02/18/2016

Today was a great day! I am thankful for sleep. I slept in till 12 pm today, and trust me, it was glorious. I’ve had interrupted sleep for a few days now and so something as simple as getting a good night (and day) sleep was a lovely blessing.

I am also really grateful for the ability to “show up” for my life. Recently, I’ve been repeating that statement quite a lot to myself. “Maham, all you have to do is get dressed and show up.” What do I mean by that? On the days I find a lot of resistance in my mind to working out or doing another task, I repeat that statement countless times. It’s been really beneficial because it forces me to go into an experience without any performance-oriented expectations. All I have to do is literally get dressed, and show up. What happens after is not my battle; it is God’s. I’ve done what I can do, and the rest is up to Him. And you know what? I can certainly attest to the fact that He has not been stingy with infusing His mercy and strength into my life. I’m truly grateful. I find myself telling God the following often: “I’m not much. My motivation is at best, wavering. I get carried away easily. My emotions often control me and I really don’t have much to offer you. But if you want to use me to do something, I’m all yours.” It’s ironic because after saying that prayer, I’ve noticed, many times, that He will allow me to accomplish things beyond what I expected from myself!

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Another thing I’m really grateful for is being able to spend time with my parents. I love watching the people they’ve grown up to become; they are such amazing, dynamic individuals. As I’ve gotten older, they’ve become less and less “my parents who do things for me” and more and more seperate “people with their own set of hopes and dreams.” I love hearing about their dreams, goals and reflections upon their lives. Over the years, I’ve seen them grow together as each one of the birds leaves the nest. First, I got married and left. Then, Ahad went to medical school a few hours away, and now they have Anu going to college. These human beings I call “Mama” and “Baba”,  who dedicated so much of their time and energy into raising us, are now finding themselves with abundant gaps of emptiness.

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The way they have started to fill these gaps is through developing beneficial routines. They sit together and watch certain TV shows; they pray together; they memorize the Quran together, and practice their recitations on one another. But, one of the activities they partake in really softens my heart. And, it is their nightly “exercise hour.” After praying maghrib, they both put on old music and my mom gets a workout on the elliptical while my dad lifts. You need to watch them during this exercise hour to understand what I feel. It’s like they go into their own little world, where they are fully entrenched in helping support each other’s goals and wellbeing. As they get older, I’ve watched them morph into strong sturdy pillars of companionship for one another; it really brings about a heart-tugging sensation within me. Watching my aged parents find solace in routine and relentlessly support  one another in something like “an exercise hour” makes my heart tender, soft and full of love towards them. I watch as they attempt to cope with the aging process, and the natural sadness that arises from their once-full nest, now getting emptier and emptier. I have boundless mercy in my hearts for them.

Finally, I am also really thankful today for… CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES! My little sister and I were craving a batch of freshly made cookies, so we literally ran out to the grocery store at 10 pm to gather our supplies. And we baked it off, talked and laughed until the most buttery, warm, gooey, savory, delectable, mouth-watering, tender-to-touch cookies were baked. Oh my goodness! They were so warm and soft–so appetizing! I love how their delectable aroma fills the entire home and makes it seem like you’re living in a delicious gingerbread house! and of course—I was grateful to be able to enjoy a sweet treat with my sweet sister!

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02/19/2016

Today was a challenging day. I haven’t been as regimented on my diet as I usually am; coming home to all this delicious food made with mama’s love and care has certainly been savory, however, it has thrown off my routine nutritional intake. And though my routine has only been disrupted for all but two to three days, it is certainly making me feel like I’m losing self-control. I feel anxious. This is a really scary place for me to be in. I like to do things a certain way, and prefer to have some sense of predictability to almost all aspects of my life. So today—I am trying to be grateful that life has provided me the opposite of that! I’m pretty sure this challenge is an opportunity to break out of stringent, rigid routines, and experience some level of spontaneity. Despite the feelings of anxiety and worry that uncertainty brings about, it is necessary to be flexible in life. I’m grateful for life repeating a lesson that I really need to learn; I need to realize that if I’m not micro-managing every little aspect of my life, things still turn out relatively okay. Nothing catastrophic happens; the plate tectonics beneath my feet do not suddenly shift. A few changes in routine are healthy and okay.

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Simultaneously, however, even though I was able to indulge in a few “cheat days”, I am grateful that I possess the necessary insight to monitor things before they spiral out of moderation. It is glaring that I work very hard on my physical fitness, and I don’t want to continue on this cycle…before I know it, “a few days” may turn into “a few months”; I work tenaciously to train myself. I fuel myself with conscious foods so that my body performs at its optimal. I don’t want to toss dirt all over my efforts…and I don’t have to. That is why I am so immensely thankful that I am under no obligation to be the same person I was just five seconds ago. Sure, I can accept the things that I cannot change BUT I can also change the things that I accept. I’m thankful for new beginnings, the courage to start again, and the fact that every moment passing by has the inherent potential to change our lives forever. I’m thankful for choices and self-control; I am grateful that I can choose to no longer keep indulging, and operate life from a more cognitive mindset.

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Speaking of making changes, I am thankful for the realization that I have to start incorporating more strength training into my regimen—especially given my pregnancy. Pregnancy hormones have a tendency to make joints lax, and strength training is beneficial to help prevent injury and promote an easier delivery/recovery. I have a sporadic relationship with strength training, as it is not my favorite thing to do! However, again, I can choose to consciously start to incorporate it at more timely intervals, because it will not only help my body do the things that it loves more efficiently (cardio), but also enable a speedier labor and delivery!

Lastly, I was really thankful today for a moment with my sister. As we were driving around to pick up new headphones, we started to listen to old songs; the Hannah Montana soundtrack emerged from the dust, and we literally fell back into childhood mode. We laughed, and sang along at the top of our lungs—not a care in the world as to who was watching, or what was happening around us. It was a moment lavished with 100% spontaneity, and no cognitive interruptions. I’m really grateful for moments like that—the moments that your heart is so full of joy in the littlest things, and you are fully emerged in the present. You are alive.

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02/20/2016

Walking is such a blessing. Since I’m visiting my parents, the nearest gym is 3 miles away; because of the proximity, I have made it a point to walk there and back every time I intend to workout. It’s a great way to warm up, and it places me in the arms of nature. I love watching the trees, weather, and birds; on my way, I say “hi” to the adored neighborhood alligator that hangs out outside the pond on warm days like today. I’m grateful for the experience of walking, and how it is an activity that is slow enough to connect with, both, mind and body. As you probably know, I love fast-paced cardiovascular activities; they leave me feeling empowered, capable, and strong! Walking is different. It feels unfamiliar, but in the most beautiful way. I’m intrigued by it, and what it brings out of me. I’m grateful, curious, and excited for the new relationship I’m building with it.

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I’m really grateful for Audible, and other technology that allows me to listen to words of wisdom from so many different books as I workout, get dressed or just hang out! I love hearing the stories and experiences of others; it’s beautiful, because in the moment that their words resonate with me, the lives of those authors and my journey crossover for a second. When they say something that just hits my heart, they make me feel connected to them and the rest of the world.

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So, do you want to hear about a really exciting experience? I’m now able to SEE my daughter kick underneath my stomach!!! You guys, when I’m laying flat on the ground, breathing deeply and evenly, I can definitely see a rise in my abdomen where she kicks. Its too soon to tell whether it’s her little footsie or her hand, but there is definitely a distinct and momentary rise and fall.  I showed my little sister, and I’m pretty sure she is convinced that I’m harboring ET in my tummy; it’s funny creeping her out!

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I’m very grateful for friendship. I’m so blessed to know loving friends, who graciously forgive my shortcomings, and love me regardless of the fact that I’m imperfect. I’m grateful for good conversations and great pizza at Mellow Mushroom.

02/21/2016

Today, I am grateful for forgiveness and mercy. I’m grateful, that if we choose, we have the ability move on from feelings of shame, guilt, and fear. We have all done or said things in our lives that we would take back, if given the chance. I know I certainly have. Sometimes, I let the weight of previous mistakes hunker me down. I become so weighed down with my own guilt and shame, and find myself asking: “what if I haven’t been forgiven?” I have this unrelenting fear that if haven’t been “forgiven”, there is a looming punishment around the bend, just waiting to hit me. It’s almost as if I expect something really terrible to happen, and  when it does, I’ll feel like I deserve it—because of my past mistakes. That’s a terribly excruciating burden to carry around. To think that I don’t deserve happiness, fulfillment, and love because of mistakes I’ve made in the past is a distorted and crippling belief. Thank God that it’s a belief that I can choose to reject.

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I’m grateful for this insight, and for other self-discoveries. I know that I tend to assume a lot more guilt and shame than I probably deserve; simultaneously, I’m hesitant to allocate culpability to others. This makes me a prime candidate for negative self-talk, feelings of low self-worth, and just feeling like I’m not good enough or deserving. I think one of my greatest fears in life is that I’m inherently unlovable; oftentimes, I feel like I don’t deserve the love I have. In my human journey, I somehow equated my self-worth with performance and accomplishments. It seems as if my “loveability” is contingent on what I do/don’t do rather than who I am/am not. Over time, I’ve come to realize that my worth is is unchanging. It is present because of who I inherently am, not what what I do/don’t do; but it’s been hard to integrate this new belief into my preexisting cognitive schema. I am thankful, however, that I’m much closer to believing this now than I was in previous years.

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God, I am so utterly grateful that my actual self-worth is a quantity that does not change with my wavering self-concept—that my worth remains the same, whether or not I choose to recognize and acknowledge it. I am grateful that God and the universe are more forgiving towards me than I am towards myself. I’m thankful that despite my beliefs about whether or not I deserve love, I am given love. I am grateful that my thoughts about myself and the world are not 100% foolproof correct; I am also simultaneously thankful for the ability to recognize these distortions when they arise.

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On a different note, I am so excited that I got to run outside today! Initially, I was so scared; every thought in my mind was telling me I won’t be able to do it; “it’s going to be so hard, and your body is going to feel so miserable” my brain repeated, “you’re going to be so slow, and it’s going to feel agonizing.” But, I hesitantly mustered up the courage to get outside, start, and next thing I know…I was just putting one foot in front of the other. Yes, I was slower than usual. Yes, I could tell that it was harder on my body than it would be if I were running on a treadmill. I want you guys to imagine carrying a cantaloupe and running long-distances with it. (That’s literally how big my baby is right now!) It felt different, for sure. But I was happy that I got out there and showed myself that I can handle tough workouts. It was just another opportunity to reaffirm that my brain does not always tell the truth; I don’t have to listen to every single thought that runs through it. Some thoughts are better left discarded. I realized, again, today that the voices that say “I can’t do it” are usually not mine. It was also very much a blessing to be able to run the last mile with my sister!

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