Today is the first time I’ve been able to sit with my sorrow and traumatic flashbacks and just mourn without shutting down because it feels like the ground beneath me is disintegrating. Today is the first time that I don’t have to dissociate and I can just be without thinking about escapist strategies or ways to numb out.
Today is the first time I’ve made food without a panic attack and without feeling drained and dissociative afterwards. I was able to make space for my anxiety and self-doubt and fears that things would go wrong. I even made space for the possibility that things would go wrong and I let myself know that it’s ok because I tried.
I have not been able to do that in over 12 years. I have not been able to be present unconditionally in all of my adulthood. I was grateful that as I cut the onions no one would notice my tears of gratitude and sadness streaming down my face. I kept thanking Allaah for something that may seem mundane but for which I prayed and prayed for years. For years! Psychological injury is an invisible prison that I worshipped Allaah through. I relinquished attempts at breaking free because only Allaah could free me. It took years for me to get that lesson. Years of adding resistance and insult to injury. Tryna blame myself and berate myself for what I felt was a humiliation. To not be able to do much. To not be able to go out for months at a time. For battling something so severe yet being unable to communicate what’s wrong so you just say you’re fine.