the fog has lifted.

after a long fight, I have surrendered to what everyone has told me to do from the very start. anti-depressants. I was scared, petrified even, from taking something that would make me more of a con, remove the authenticity out of me, make me numb and emotionless. but here I am, on anti-depressants.

a new professional therapist recommended it, because I wouldn’t be brave enough to open up sealed pockets from the past without feeling safe. she is right. it’s been tough living with that fog— that perpetual fear, that irritating voice that never stops threatening and accusing me of everything that goes wrong and right. no wonder why I locked myself away from the world; the voice was too loud, too accusatory, too debilitating to live with.

it’s been almost two weeks now and the fog has lifted. it feels like ‘me’ again. ideating the entire day and dreaming the hours away, receiving God’s insights and manifesting them into what reality can take in and make ‘real’. it’s been beautiful although nothing on the outside changed. it’s all the same, it’s just my mind that is different. the voice is not there anymore.

I cannot believe I lived all that time with it.

how different life is without anxiety. God, it’s something else. even the difficult things are easier to tolerate and handle. the time alone, the time wasted on frivolous matters, the electrician’s visit to fix a broken fuse. i’m not afraid anymore— the past has no nest in my mind to rest its heavy feathers in.

perhaps what is new for me is that I started thinking of my own happiness. making choices and decisions to do what truly fulfils me and leaving behind my obsession with self-sacrifice. that’s new for me, but definitely worth experiencing. I feel like I am learning how to be human again, after a long year of defeating my own soul over and over again. and sometimes I do not think it is happiness; it is inner peace. unravelling the nothingness within moments spent in the spark with my kitten, watching her climb trees and taking candid photos of her. watching calyxes erupt, in love with the warming sunrays. I love watching people here sit on the grass, sipping sparkling water and laughing over some frivolous matter. 

there’s this part of me that loves life— I love drinking coffee, gingerbread lattes in a coffeeshop full of adopted cats. I love bicycle rides and picking flowers. dainty experiences and fairytales. I had to let that go for some time because I couldn’t have any of it. I had to lock it away to some distant dream, allowing it to exist in my head. but now, I have mu husband’s hand to hold on those long walks in the park, watching weeds sprout and leaflets erupt from their buds. I had so many beautiful clouds to look up to. I love those hours I spend giving free classes just for the sake of giving gifts to the world. I don’t know why it felt sweeter to lock myself behind bars and watch life happen from the outside. I don’t know why I kept dreaming of heaven instead of trying to manifest it here, on this beautiful, bountiful Earth.

that’s what those pills came to show me. they somehow let my guards down, let that fear settle down, and showed me an authentic version of me that was too petrified to exist in this world.

I am not sure for how long I will be on those pills, but what they teach me is invaluable. oh God, all this winter, I was a hermit, staying at home, refusing to see people. look at me now, revelling in my weekly grocery shopping errands, falling in love with cooking for others for iftar this Ramadan. I missed this part of me, and it feels more like home.

I still keep wondering whether I should really give myself away to work or allow myself to freely exist in this era of my life. invest in my femininity and be of service in novel ways, not the ways I know of. I still am not sure of who I am beyond work, but therapy is helping me uncover those lost parts of me. I have forsaken my piano for many months now, afraid to play so that I don’t make a mistake and wake my inner critic. yet, I wonder if I will ever come back and cherish playing those notes. I wonder if I will ever write poetry again.

I hope this spring elevates my spirit and allows me to experience God’s beloved presence once more. I missed this effortless sweetness of feeling His closeness the more I get close to my essence. that closeness that only unveils with love, not war with oneself. Ramadan was also extremely helpful in allowing this alluring feeling to surface.

I am sending my gratitude to the world. thank you, God, for your gifts.