Stepping Into The Daylight.

A few days ago, I woke up and went directly outside of the bed, like I always do. But as my feet touched the ground, I felt something different in the way I was moving. I went to the sofa and closed my eyes— it was happening again.

My eyes started tearing up as I sensed this swelling, the approaching brain fog, this feeling of helplessness and hopelessness creeping to my mind. I didn’t want to face it. I wished I could just go back to bed and rewind the night because the day is long and how would I ever be able to make this day beautiful like this, in this state?

I closed my eyes and tried to remember love. It didn’t work. I spent an hour researching quick fixes to remove the bloat, to improve my mood, to make me feel better. Because today, I want to love the people around me. I want to think of something other than just this stupid sensation of not being well because I was tired of it. I was sick of it.

I cried again because I was so scared to face my day. What’s going on with me? Why me? Why can’t I just heal? Why can’t it be over already?

My family woke up and I rushed to make everyone coffee. I smiled and made sure the shopping list was updated, for my mother would go before work to buy what was missing. I was still feeling awful. I was still trying to breathe, still trying to hope that I’ll feel better after I go for a walk or something, perhaps after a bit of chamomile.

But the whole day, I was in pain. Because this swelling spread to my stomach and my head and my whole body. And I was in pain. And I tried to hide it and create distractions; letting my sister watch movies so that she doesn’t have to face me like that.

The worst thing is never my pain, it’s the idea that I can’t be the best version of myself for others who deserve care and love. Because when I feel that way, touch agonises me. My sister comes close for a cuddle and I repel her with sincere apologies. My family sits down to talk casually and I sneak away because I just can’t talk— I want to be away from everyone.

How can anyone love me when I’m not the best version of myself?

That night and the night after were excruciating. My sister would ask me for a hug and I’d turn away. She would cry and say that I don’t want to give her love and tears would come to my eyes. I can’t, dearest. I can’t love you right now. I feel so much pain and I can’t explain it. I could never explain it.

I sleep it off because it’s the only thing I can do.

The next day, I wake up and find myself feeling the same way. I cry again. This time, I ditch my gratitude journal aside and curse under my breath. What’s the point in even trying? There is no way out of this. I’m stuck here forever. I’m meant to be punished.

But what is this pain teaching me?

I remember God and I cry. I go outside to the balcony and pray and beg for God’s guidance because there is nothing else for me to do in this moment. I can’t help myself. I’m stuck and I need the universe to help me break this cycle. I also remind myself that this is not for me, I’m not doing this for myself and my own sake, I want to be that place of love for others to turn back to. I want to hug my sister again and make her feel loved. I want to one day find myself in a loving relationship with ones who mean to me most, to awaken their inner power, to change reality into what we envision would help our world.

I prayed and went back to sleep.

In the car, the next day, I was still feeling awful. I snapped at my sister for something she had done and looked out of the window. I quickly put on my sunglasses and receded to have one nice, long cry. Then, I remembered. Just a year ago, on that day, I was in the airport heading back to Egypt. The visual was so strong and I saw myself by that conveyer belt watching my mother and sister cry while I smiled to them, pretending to be strong and hopeful. I remembered how confused, lost and scared I felt, but was hiding all of these emotions underneath a veil of distractions, thinking about what I could do to forget this reality that I don’t want to be attached to.

Back to the reality of being in the car, tears streaming down my cheeks, I decided to suspend all of my plans for next year. I don’t have to do that school-project anymore. I won’t work on promoting my new venture. I don’t have to do anything because that will only take me further and further away from what I should be working on. I don’t want to be caught up again in that cycle of standing in the class at work, feeling so unwell and teach kids about how to be better versions of themselves. The irony was devastating.

I wasn’t going back to that place. I wasn’t ready.

I asked for God’s help again. This time, with tears. This time, with love for the universe, with the courage to dissect all my pain and heal.

A few moments later, I found a ray of sunlight in front of me. My body was separated from it, away from it— my mind was a shadowed realm, haunted with apparitions of pain, past memories and notions that pulled me away from healing. Deep inside, I didn’t want to heal. I didn’t believe I could heal. There were mountains made of steel and ice that prevented me from climbing them— even though I loved the climb, I yearned for a climb. I would do anything just for this. I am strong enough to fight it.

But this ray of sunlight symbolised a thought, a renewed faith, an instantaneous belief that I am already healed. What if I could only take a step forward and see myself healthy, loving, empowered and strong? What if only with one step I could break the past ties I was clinging onto and become someone new? What if I considered the infinite possibilities that could lead me to where I was truly always meant to be?

I closed my eyes. I saw myself in a place of love. A place where time didn’t separate me from my dreams. A place infinite and whole, and I was one with the light inside of me. I was one with my essence. I was one with my purpose and my heart— I was love.

I opened my eyes. Gently, I focused my awareness on my feet; how graceful they were, how light and steady and determined they moved. I let them glide, fly—

I stepped into the daylight. Now I am an expression of the infinite.

Now I am the light.