Bismillah ir Rahman ir Raheem
Assalam alaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatahu!
I’ve been putting off posting this because this is markedly more vulnerable than I usually am. And then I figured – what the heck?
There are many different kinds of pain in the world, but my particular brand is anxiety.
Anxiety flowers in my chest like a firework, spiking every nerve in my upper body. Anxiety immobilizes my brain and my legs because even the slightest movement, even the slightest thought, will let the predator know I’m here. Anxiety makes me feel like a toothless herbivore in the brush waiting to be hunted. Anxiety builds in the sides of my cheeks – as if screaming would help me. Anxiety cancels out my complexity, the strength that hides underneath my vulnerability.
I used to be crippled by these feelings. Like literally. I would lie under my blanket praying for death from the pain. I would weep incessantly.
But they got better over time.
I’ve gotten clearer-headed. I tried delving into my emotions. That works. After wallowing in them, I’m less frightened of drowning in anxiety. I’m less self-conscious about saying or doing or being stupid while I’m in this state.
Lately I’ve started noticing my triggers. When I say lately, I mean literally yesterday when I read an article on the same.
My triggers are situations in which I have no idea what’s going to happen.
Like job interviews. I can read every website in the universe. But I have no idea who’s on the other side of those doors. I have no idea how anything will turn out.
I can prepare myself for a job interview but really it’s a lot like dating. I go in there and I just talk. There has to be chemistry. And I try to connect and try to understand whether I would fit into this family. And really these people become like family. I have a choice about who I work with. And I should make it a good one. All the prep in the world won’t tell you how to manufacture that chemistry.
And here I am trying so desperately yet again – why is my life marked by desperation? When it’s not that, it’s anger. When it’s not that, it’s despair. Or depression. Or frustration.
And I am trying so desperately now to control. To maximize chances of success. To win. Pushed even to give up who I am. For a trifle. But I can’t do that.
In fact from years with anxiety disorder, I know what panicking does to me.
Anxiety saps energy.
Anxiety makes me forget that God has a plan.
Anxiety makes me avoid situations that’ll help me grow.
Anxiety keeps me small and hunted.
Anxiety is my friend.
It tells me that this situation is new. And exciting. And that I should embrace it for what it is. Just as I should embrace me, with all my weirdness and fragility and strength.
I keep telling myself it’s all going to be fine. And it’s working.
I’m living life on my own terms and it’s fine if this experiment goes belly up. It’s fine if I never achieve anything in a worldly sense. I did what I thought was right in the face of nearly unbearable opposition. I bore it. I’ve borne a lot of things. I’m really strong Alhamdulillah (by God’s grace).
But I am also sensitive. And I will expect strong emotions in my life. And I know I’ll be fine.
I want to go outside and look at that beautiful blue sky again. And those pink trees outside my home. I could really stare at them for days.
Love and peace. Wassalam and Fee Amanillah,
The Happy (and okay) Muslimah