Slipping out of thoughts

I feel like a broken record, like a hacky internet connection that makes videos buffer. I feel like my words are redundant and that my writing is like trying to move the desert by scooping the sand up and putting it in my pockets.

I’ve been saving my inner truths inside words because my inner world is destroyed and decimated by trauma and self-hate that extends to the physical body in the form of autoimmune diseases. I don’t feel safe in my own existence. That’s what used to drive me to the brink of suicide in my younger years.


I realized that the reason why I used to comfort eat so much was because trauma is stored in the body – thanks to all the amygdala hijacks that release stress hormones and just

f e a r

and when I eat sugary stuff my body gets flooded with serotonin that temporarily mutes the trauma. The alternative is literally torture. To not have a shield when the flashbacks are happening feels worse than death. Not only is it retraumatizing, it destroys whatever healing and hope I’ve managed to accrue because it feels like I can’t escape this hell in me no matter what I do.

I’m tired. I use writing to get out of my head and keep hope alive. It’s a day to day mission. I’m tired of explaining, especially to those who demand and judge because my disabilities aren’t readily visible. I’m tired. Of excusing everything and dismissing it as ignorance. Availing myself and being mindful of others so that I don’t inadvertently hurt anyone while lost in my pain. I don’t know how it feels to expect help. Like, even if someone hurts me so bad by failing me I brush it off by saying no one owes me anything and I just move on. I turn it against myself by essentially saying I have no right to expect love. Feeling sorry for myself is a very dangerous thing because there’s so much to feel sorry about that if I were to go there I’d be enslaved by despair. I worked extremely hard at getting out of that pit and seeking the divine. I don’t want anything to threaten that connection because it’s literally my only lifeline. It’s the only thing giving me hope and a will to live and dream. Nothing I’ve been through is worth sacrificing hope for. Not even the betrayal of others. Allaah has never betrayed me or abandoned me. I’ve never felt shame and not good enough when talking to Him.

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