Maybe ten minutes of a stream of consciousness on the blog will help me get out of the funk I've been in the whole day.
A low mood. I walked for 40 minutes, that didn't help. I sat in the library among other people; that didn't help. I even bumped into Carra and Amanda. Talked. That didn't help. I mean it did; but only sporadically.
I guess it's good that I'm stuck between a rock and a hard, hard place. It means God will have to move mountains for me to be able to get un-stuck.
Oh well. I made the most of last week's good feelings and karma.
I really need a session with Sidra. Am just not getting it. Mind is a funk. I'll tap the SAD out of my system.
There's something very interesting I am reading right now. Not all of our anger is ours. Especially women. If we have men in our lives who repress their emotions, their anger, their fears, their grief, their insecurities: it can pass on to us as energy in our auras and we feel irrational emotions.
To know the difference, if we are unable to control the emotions, or if they prevail in circumstances whereby nothing's really wrong, it's someone else's energy in our aura.
I think this explains a lot of things. About my own actions. My own depression. My own rage. The uncontrollable aspects of it. But, of course, rationally, I am accountable for all my actions.
There's a saying by Imam Ali (a.s.): Unfortunate is he who cannot acquire a few sincere friends during his lifetime. Even more unfortunate is he who has friends, but then drives them away through his actions.
Imran ain't never coming back. Maybe he never was there in the first place. Well, it's not the first time my bud akhlaqi has cost me a relationship. It really sucks.
*taps wrist affirming "Even though I am obsessed, I choose to release this energy from my body and aura."*
I didn't want to go to the mosque tonight. Too tired; too down. As I told Meryam, three days of Khoja-ness is enough. Trust me to only be able to make friends with a bubbly 15 year-old. Sometimes, I feel as though I am trying to reconnect and live out my lost childhood and adolescence.
But most of the time I'm a lump. Aimless. Tries to get the motors started, the wheels turning. But cannot. Tries. Tries hard. But cannot.
Oh Allah. Ya Emaada manlla Emaada lahu. Ya Sanada manlla Sanada lahu.
You need to help me. Continuously. Daily. Now.
The pit is very dark. The pit is intensely deep. I cannot go back. I cannot.
I do not live in this world. I live in my head.
I realised the other day, talking to Umair. All my friends are long distance. Phone calls, emails, texts. The ones who are here are too far away and busy.
Isolation. Isolée. Akela. I've chosen it. It's even in my bloody numerology report.
I really don't want tomorrow to be a repeat of today.
I pray someone reads this between now and tomorrow and prays for my well being and for my highest good, that He may spiritually guide me aright.
I cannot afford to go back into my pit. It's dark and lonely and scary in there. It takes forever to get out. There's no time limit to how long I can stay in there. And people sometimes kill themselves before they get out of it.
I am not suicidal. I'm just saying that when I get into that frame of mind, I do become suicidal. As I did in October and November of last year. Because of a boy. Ugh. How stupidly cliché.
At least I didn't cave and buy any sweet junk food: chocolates, cake, cookies. That would just make me worse.
Affirmation time.
"I am surrounded by love"
"I love and accept myself exactly as I am"
"I know that I deserve love and I accept it now"
"Loving myself unconditionally brings healing and an abundance of love into my life"
"I know that my healing is already in process"
~~~
Iltemas-e-dua, peeps.
A low mood. I walked for 40 minutes, that didn't help. I sat in the library among other people; that didn't help. I even bumped into Carra and Amanda. Talked. That didn't help. I mean it did; but only sporadically.
I guess it's good that I'm stuck between a rock and a hard, hard place. It means God will have to move mountains for me to be able to get un-stuck.
Oh well. I made the most of last week's good feelings and karma.
I really need a session with Sidra. Am just not getting it. Mind is a funk. I'll tap the SAD out of my system.
There's something very interesting I am reading right now. Not all of our anger is ours. Especially women. If we have men in our lives who repress their emotions, their anger, their fears, their grief, their insecurities: it can pass on to us as energy in our auras and we feel irrational emotions.
To know the difference, if we are unable to control the emotions, or if they prevail in circumstances whereby nothing's really wrong, it's someone else's energy in our aura.
I think this explains a lot of things. About my own actions. My own depression. My own rage. The uncontrollable aspects of it. But, of course, rationally, I am accountable for all my actions.
There's a saying by Imam Ali (a.s.): Unfortunate is he who cannot acquire a few sincere friends during his lifetime. Even more unfortunate is he who has friends, but then drives them away through his actions.
Imran ain't never coming back. Maybe he never was there in the first place. Well, it's not the first time my bud akhlaqi has cost me a relationship. It really sucks.
*taps wrist affirming "Even though I am obsessed, I choose to release this energy from my body and aura."*
I didn't want to go to the mosque tonight. Too tired; too down. As I told Meryam, three days of Khoja-ness is enough. Trust me to only be able to make friends with a bubbly 15 year-old. Sometimes, I feel as though I am trying to reconnect and live out my lost childhood and adolescence.
But most of the time I'm a lump. Aimless. Tries to get the motors started, the wheels turning. But cannot. Tries. Tries hard. But cannot.
Oh Allah. Ya Emaada manlla Emaada lahu. Ya Sanada manlla Sanada lahu.
You need to help me. Continuously. Daily. Now.
The pit is very dark. The pit is intensely deep. I cannot go back. I cannot.
I do not live in this world. I live in my head.
I realised the other day, talking to Umair. All my friends are long distance. Phone calls, emails, texts. The ones who are here are too far away and busy.
Isolation. Isolée. Akela. I've chosen it. It's even in my bloody numerology report.
I really don't want tomorrow to be a repeat of today.
I pray someone reads this between now and tomorrow and prays for my well being and for my highest good, that He may spiritually guide me aright.
I cannot afford to go back into my pit. It's dark and lonely and scary in there. It takes forever to get out. There's no time limit to how long I can stay in there. And people sometimes kill themselves before they get out of it.
I am not suicidal. I'm just saying that when I get into that frame of mind, I do become suicidal. As I did in October and November of last year. Because of a boy. Ugh. How stupidly cliché.
At least I didn't cave and buy any sweet junk food: chocolates, cake, cookies. That would just make me worse.
Affirmation time.
"I am surrounded by love"
"I love and accept myself exactly as I am"
"I know that I deserve love and I accept it now"
"Loving myself unconditionally brings healing and an abundance of love into my life"
"I know that my healing is already in process"
~~~
Iltemas-e-dua, peeps.
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