A poem about finding friendship, oneself, and God.
Over the years, I became accustomed to a lonely life inside my shell– It had become my second-nature to retreat when all just felt unwell. I felt dejected because like other creatures, I couldn’t run, climb or fly. So much so, in challenging times, I didn’t even give it an honest try. Instead, I crawled back into the confines of my boxed, bosomed shell– choosing to survive day by day, with not a single adventurous tale to tell.
One day in jaded June, I basked under the searing sun. I drifted off for a moment, only to awake next to someone! I peered timidly at the stranger, resting quietly beside me– Her pleasant patterned carapace was quite the sight to see! I wondered if she knew just how perfect and polished she seemed, The sun’s radiant rays made her soft leathery skin glitter and gleam.
Her whimsical webbed-feet were unlike anything else I’d seen before. I pondered silently to myself about what she might use them for. Without a warning, she opened up her glassy, jewel-toned eyes. She dove fearlessly into the opaque pond, much to my surprise! My heart fluttered restlessly, as I feared for her safety below. How could she simply jump in, without letting anyone else know? What if she drowns dismally or gets stuck in murky mudflow?
I shook inside my shell, anxiously waiting for her emerald head to emerge The water’s surface stayed silently still while my panic began to surge. “Please, God,” I prayed passionately, “please let her be alright.” “I’ve waited so long for any sign of Your eternal loving Light.” The sun’s final rays danced daintily across the lulling lake, in the midst of their beams–I finally saw a reflection I couldn’t mistake!
Her intricate shell appeared iridescent just below the serene surface; She gracefully glided to the top, and took a deep breath in with purpose. Following her lead, I remembered to finally let out my stifled exhale. Sighing with relief, I watched in awe, as she fearlessly sailed.
She played peacefully in the welcoming water, confident and headstrong. Oh, how desperately I, too, wished to find somewhere to belong. It became clear to me that the wonderous water was unmistakably her home. I realized that the very shell offering me shelter had also left me feeling secluded & alone.
Feeling ashamed, yet again, I retracted back into my comfortable cage. This time, however, its darkness left me brimming with rage. My mind became a roaring arena full of angry, self-loathing talk. Mindfulness slipped away, and her presence was something I forgot.
Suddenly, I felt a powerful push–followed by a startling splash! I found myself in whirling waters, and began to helplessly thrash. I saw her silhouette near the shore, crawling carefree as could be, “Swim!”, she urged spiritedly, “You are a lot like me!”
ME?!” I thought, restlessly, “she must not be able to see.” “Just focus on your breath”, she said “and you, too, will feel free” “You’re wrong!”, I gasped between plunges, “I can’t do this at all!” She reminded me so sweetly, “but, you’ve already survived the fall.”
I watched the wholesome water warmly wrap itself around me, like it was awaiting my return. It enveloped me into its eager embrace; reminding me I was no unfamiliar extern. The familiar fear I lived with everyday with felt frivolous once I could see– –the dreary decades drifting away simply reflected my faithlessness in its steadfast security.
The comforting current cradled me, for the water had constantly carried me along. Surrendering to its steady support helped me to feel that I was inherently strong. I cried; I laughed—because I hadn’t felt much of anything in so long. But most of all, in that moment, I finally felt what its like to truly belong.
The majestic creature dove back into the water, and helped me swim back to shore. “Look!”, she declared, as we crawled out, pointing towards the lake’s alluring floor. I turned around trying to find what it was she wanted me to look for. Once I finally caught a glimpse of it, it was a sight too spellbinding to ignore.
I peered timidly into the water, marveling at a reflection I did not recognize. I stared at its perfectly patterned-shell, and soft skin with awe and surprise. “Wow”, I whispered, “It’s breathtaking–especially in the water’s blue hue.” “Of course she is,” smiled the truthful turtle, “because that, my friend, is you.”
“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 assessmenttools–“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.
First and foremost, happy full moon in Scorpio! Yes it’s happening today!
April’s full moon rises on April 23 at 7:49 p.m. ET; it will stay true to its full shape for three days.
For those of you who are familiar with the significance of 3-6-9, take note of the fact that the full moon will reign the skies for three days.
Full moons have a tendency to illuminate the darker aspects of our selves that we usually tend to ignore. They are commonly associated with overwhelming feelings of upheaval, change and transformation. This full moon in Scorpio is no different; in fact, it is probably going to feel even MORE “heavy” for those of us who tend to be energetically sensitive; Scorpio full moons are especially known for their fervor and intensity.
Therefore, it is reasonable to expect heightened emotions during this time. My first suggestion is to please be gentle with yourself. It can feel disconcerting to lean into these amplified “darker” feelings; but, try not to be fearful of the shadows that emerge underneath this full moon. Offer yourself an overwhelming amount of compassion and grace as we all move through this astrological shift.
My second suggestion is to really allow yourself to FEEL the depth, height and width of your experience; immerse yourself wholly while challenging yourself not to REACT in spite of the discomfort. I’d like to remind us all that we are still amidst a Mercury retrograde in Aries that will wrap up on April 25th.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with the effects of Mercury retrogrades, I encourage you to do your own research in an attempt to tease out where your life may be affected. In general, retrogrades are associated with confusion, delays, and miscommunication. During these times, people are warned to NOT make any major life decisions or changes. Important decisions should be delayed till our deepest selves feel more astrologically aligned; that is because mercury retrogrades are linked to a jarring disruption in logic, rationality and effective interpersonal communication.
So what does this all mean for us?
It is wise to expect a proclivity towards impulsive outbursts, emotional upheavals and sudden changes of the mind and heart. If the combination of a mercury retrograde and full moon in Scorpio aren’t overwhelming enough, the fact that this full moon squares itself in Pluto makes it all the more engulfing. Pluto is the planetary ruler of Scorpio so the darker motifs associated with this scorpion moon are even more amplified.
Pluto aims to shatter existing constructs only to rebuild them in a way that is more conducive to our life path. The parts that feel really “bad” can be attributed to Pluto’s aggressive nature of intervention; shifts in Pluto are usually sudden, and piercing; They often leave us feeling like we are out of control.
Please remember though, this is all temporary; we are in the middle of a transition. In the moment, it may feel like things are “falling apart”, and that is okay. If we stay grounded, and practice patience, most of us will find that things are are actually coming together. The Universe is simply deconstructing unhelpful parts of our lives that are no longer serving us; in time, we will witness these constructs reassembled in a way that feels more congruent & aligned with our Highest Selves.
To reap the benefits of this transformative shift, we must refrain from reactivity; we must think (A LOT MORE than we usually do) before we act. Some would say inaction may be the best path for now. There is a time for potential growth and a time for kinetic growth. This full moon in Scorpio is definitely one that focuses more on increasing our potential energy. This feels like intense feelings brewing within–almost as if our psyches are in a pressure cooker. Oftentimes, panic and fear resurface–urging us to ACT, right then and there–just so we can reduce the discomfort in the “here and now”.
However, this is not the time to move or act. This is the time to let ourselves be moved by the Universe’s actions; it is about sitting back, and allowing the discordant sensations to move within us. It’s about tolerating stressful emotions without reacting impulsively.
Yes, the Universe is kind and loving, but ultimately our experience of its “goodness” is limited by how much space we create for it inside of ourselves. Oftentimes, we unknowingly keep parts of the Universe “out” because we WANT to portray ourselves in the best light; we do not want to uncover the darker, primal parts of our selves, and that is okay. It is completely natural for human beings to avoid painful realizations about themselves.
However, this does cause a “blindness” of sorts because “we” tend to recall memories & events in a way that makes us the “good guy”, freeing us of culpability. It is human nature to deflect blame on everyone else and anything else. It takes courage and time before we can acknowledge the “miniscule”, very “tiny” role we may have played in a destructive situation. The Universe, however, does not have a bias. It sees us for exactly what and who we are. It know all parts of us–even the ones we try to so desperately to repress. The cosmos never fails to rectify the skewed narratives we tell ourselves; It is not afraid to illuminate the parts of our stories that blind us to our own accountability.
At this full moon, lean into the darker aspects of yourself; become willing and open to see those parts of you that haunt you–the parts of yourself that you fear, despise or want to damage. Try and LOOK at the obsessive patterns that keep manifesting the same undesired outcomes in your life.
Avoid shame, and blame because both cripple us from objectively analyzing ourselves. This very introspection is what will ultimately help remove blocks to our growth. As Carl Rogers eloquently stated: “The curious paradox is that when I accept myself, just as I am, only, then I can change.”
Practice radical acceptance of all parts of yourself. Foster forgiveness for the parts that are not fully in alignment with your highest self. No matter the compulsion to do harm, practice non-maleficence. Let the darkness pass through, reminding yourself with each breath, that this is only temporary. All feelings are energetic “waves” that flow through us as if we are a medium. No emotion is there to take permanent residence.
So in the phase of this full moon, I dare you to endure the heavy emotional fog without trying to escape it.
Because you can.
You were genetically engineered to survive.
Let the Universe reveal to you where work needs to be done. Remain teachable. You don’t know it all. Instead of resisting it this time, I encourage you to join the Universe in this emotional journey. Walk with It–let it illuminate parts of you that have become estranged. What’s the worst that can happen? It’s just pain. You’ve experienced it a million times before.
Let’s allow this new moon in Scorpio to push us into the pilgrimage of processing, and purging our shadows so that we can contribute to creating a more loving, evolved world.
I encourage all of you to reflect on the following prompts!
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.
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–
abidmaham 