The taste of poison

I don’t believe I deserve Allaah’s mercy. I believe the trauma and c-ptsd and the myriad of ways I’ve been disabled and dysfunctional is my fault. I couldn’t suppress those feelings enough because of something faulty within me. Therefore, I don’t deserve any help much less divine intervention, because I elected to be stuck. I have to figure this out on my own. I have to. I can’t even fathom making duaa regarding matters that confound me because then I get destroyed by hateful thoughts that bully me into retreating. Thoughts pointing out all the ways I’ve contributed to the toxic shame and guilt I feel. It’s my fault for not taking action. Why? Because that’s where everyone else directs me when they give me unsolicited advice about getting unstuck. And I keep choosing not to go that route, the getting-on-with-it-and-pretending-everything-is-fine route and for that I must be punished. I’m an absolute idiot for thinking I can go against social conditioning and guidelines in this way.

I must be destroyed for going against the grain. I don’t deserve being right.


It actually feels good to put words to these ingrained beliefs that were a part of my mental landscape. Lifelong trauma has welded together what I’ve internalized and what I actually feel.

4 responses to The taste of poison

  1. Yes, lay it bare. Lots of unworthiness thoughts surfacing yesterday. It’s clear that I don’t want to cycle those back into a perceived separate self. So much ” I’m doing it wrong” coming up.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. It’s often the case that when we write down these thoughts and force ourselves to stare them in the face, we see how insane they really are. Then they just sort of become words on a piece of paper. I love the healthiness of this purge.

    Liked by 1 person

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