the permission to fall apart.
here it is, another wave of depression throwing itself at me. it appears out of nowhere, or perhaps, from behind the smallest trigger that lurks in the background of everyday life, paralysing me completely.
my mind does a painstakingly accurate job at scanning every moment, looking for the cheapest evidence to prove I’m not good enough. and when that happens, I crumble down and my self-esteem shatters like bits of ice under my shoes. all the progress I made those past few weeks dissipates into thin air, and I find myself starting rock bottom, trying to find a new angle to tackle this healing journey with.
for three days now, I’ve been in bed and I haven’t left the house. the overwhelm was staggering, and the mere thought of having to wake up and do something was adequate to bring me to tears. it felt terrible, and perhaps the worst thing about those moments is that you don’t know how to explain it. you don’t know what’s wrong.
yesterday, in order to sleep soundly without any of those nightmarish flashbacks, I had to take a few sleeping pills. before being pulled under, it felt so serene for a while, and just a little thought comforted me. I realised that I needed to give myself ample time.
it dawned upon me that there is no way but to respect those instincts that force me to rest every once in a while. even though I try my best to build myself and explore my identity, that kind of work is tiresome, and it is usually coupled with a cathartic episode of emotional release. I need to go through that. I need to rebuild my mind and my sanity just the same. I need to give myself that time to sleep, heal and be nothing at the moment. I don’t need to rush my growth.
I felt a glimpse of God’s nearness as I allowed myself to sleep all day. I felt my weakness, and I felt the proximity of my prayers. I felt the need to prioritise our relationship and find Him first before any external solution to validate my progress. it seems that in earnest, the only way forward is the way inwards, and the only path towards that is through.
the most formidable part of this journey is having to rebuild my identity. unmasking those coping mechanisms has been frightening, for I realised I’m so empty without them. who am I without suffering? who am I without hypervigilance? who am without need the prove that I am good enough? that’s right, I’m no one. my values crumble at the gateways of my new reality and I have to find somebody else to be. and I don’t know who that is.
they say things like explore what you like, new hobbies and introspect your values. but they have no idea how hard it is to do these things without an identity that can judge those experiences. it often feels like I’m a phantom, coercing this body to go through this, when all it wants is to die and be done with. it’s as severe. and nothing helps make it better, but those difficult episodes of falling apart.
so it seems I need to give myself permission to fall apart. I need to treat myself like an ill person who needs so much help and support to lift myself back up again, because it certainly is not an experience I can go through alone. my husband sat with me on the bed last night, fed me and then read to me some verses of the Quran while holding my hand. this was exactly what I needed to feel safe.
I don’t know how many years it will take to find myself again. but I need to let my past go. I need to let go of all those memories because I can never be that person again. that person allowed herself to be hurt, manipulated and disrespected. that person didn’t fight for herself and the big dreams she believed she could reach. she didn't fight to be stronger, brighter and fiercer. she let her path go to survive with what she had. and I don't have to survive anymore, but those dreams of mine require so much of a person I am not anymore.
I will never be who I used to be. and that is why I need to fall apart.
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