Rama*n

I’ve been having nightmares back to back about bullies from my childhood, rejection. The first day of Ramadan also means a lot of work in the kitchen. Doing stuff while I’m triggered is tortuous. I hid in sleeping all day and evening, only breaking up for prayers.

It’s like an emotional fever or diarrhea. I realize I’ve never been able to let these things pass through from my subconscious bc that entails reliving it all and risking being repossessed by what I’ve kept bolted for years.

The worst part about trauma isn’t what happened, but being deprived of the processing by way of demands to keep going as if nothing happened or being shamed for not being able to keep going. This mechanism has become so embedded in my trauma that it’s become an automation to switch over to numbing out and disassociating any triggers bc to feel the trauma makes me feel naked. It completely disables me and any function I have and with that, any usefulness I have to others. That chain is broken, and I’m left vulnerable to attacks that I’ve come to believe are valid. My worst fear is feeling the trauma and in that moment being pressured to do stuff for others. That’s what I fear about marriage, about motherhood, about doing what I love. The interruption of nightmares that never seem to end, and the rejection of those around me bc they’re disgusted by my incapacitated self.

Only Allaah can connect the dots

Despair is the shrill cry of a soul whose needs have been overlooked and trampled upon. Hope then isn’t a silencing of these cries through vague promises of a better day, but a reinstituting of its right to exist and feel despair. To not belittle or play down the cause of concern but to shift the focus to birthright of every soul as a sovereign being with unconditional access to abundance and any authority figure or institute that instills a lack mentality or justifies despair is false and corrupt.
Hope is the validation of gaslighted soul that’s been cut-off from Allaah on the basis of not being enough.

Intellectualism is deeply impersonal

Derealization is the worst mental pain that can happen to a human. It’s the loss of the language of emotions and sensations that alienates you from the outside world, rendering your inside world meaningless and marooned. It’s like losing your ability to make sound even though you’re talking. Everything is soaked in shades of metallic grey and the air tastes like cold corrosion. It feels like the energy and emotions of others have physical weight and exerts pressure on you from all sides but you can’t take anything in so it just piles up until you feel like you’re in a deadly vortex. You’re divorced from all context and identity and yet you’re confined. It’s deeply paradoxical with no meaning at the core to differentiate.

Concave

Don’t sacrifice yourself for people who are slowly killing you with disrespect or distrust. Being seen and accepted for who you are is a baseline you should safeguard. Your feeling safe comes before helping others out, especially if said others don’t make space to receive you.

Trauma bonding

Rapists get the death sentence in Somalia. Tell me where else they be this swift with it. Y’all can say a lot about Somalis but toxic masculinity is NOT part of the culture. Fight me.

In fact I’d go as far as to say we got more toxic femininity rampant than anything. Women be apologizing and caping for shit. Women were the ones perpetuating fgm and other dehumanizing practices like men eat first and women eat leftovers.

You CAN be a victim of your own enabling a useless praxis. But men are largely absent so that tells you that there aren’t any overt feet on our necks. We internalize self-erasure and glorify codependency and perfectionism. Mothers coddle boys and don’t give them space to take responsibility.

Having and being praised for a martyr complex is WILD because you’re valuing what you do for others over your own existence. No one can make space for YOU if you’re buried in the rubbles of others. And then you direct your frustration with your stunted growth at those for whom you sacrificed yourself for not sacrificing themselves to pull you out of the bed you made in the chaos.

Stop it please. Stop glorifying endurance of suffering and holding on to burning coals as virtues when we’re dying from it. Future generations of Somali girls are dying from not seeing self-actualization and emotional stability in us. They’ll die before they are even born because a woman’s zest comes from her spirit and there’s NOTHING worth blocking the heart for.

Forlorn

My cousin tells me her 15 year old daughter Aisha asked her why I look at people in a strange way.. She asked her what she meant. Aisha said, it’s like she can see right through your soul. It’s unsettling.

My cousin says she was in tears laughing because that was me, and she was shocked at how her daughter clocked it. She reassured her by saying I’m intuitive and so is she. Aisha felt relieved that it wasn’t all in her head. I say it’s funny because last time y’all were here I noticed her avoiding my gaze and I pretended like I didn’t notice anything because I didn’t want to remove her veil of security in obscurity. She’d have lost it if I told her what I saw that she didn’t realize I did. I wanted her to feel safe, even from me.

The whole thing made me laugh so hard over the phone that my nephew comes to me and asks why I’m laughing so hard. I say I heard something funny. My cousin continues, but Mulki this isn’t the first time someone has said this about you. I interrupt her – “I’ve heard it countless times. People are legit afraid of me”. She pauses and says, but that’s problematic! “Yeah, but what can I do? They feel stripped naked and they either go into defense or avoidance. All I can do is to not judge and not internalize it when they misjudge me. I don’t take it personally. I understand.”

I’ve spent very long asking why I’m like this and why people respond to me the way they do. And I can’t fully know but I know my intentions and my heart and I won’t let anything change that. I’ll accept everyone’s truth no matter how heavy or bitter. The only thing I never tolerate is falsehood.

A social experiment

Social media is a hamster wheel, I’ve come to realize. A lot of momentum going nowhere and noise saying nothing substantive. Everything good found online is wasted through having no space to enter our being to affect a lasting change. Yeah it’s a lot of interesting tidbits and shocking revelations but it’s revealing that the first thing we think to do when we come across such gems is to share with as many people as possible or wonder why more people are not aware of it. When we learn of atrocities our go-to response is : how can we make this float to the top so that it has maximum visibility? We pass the buck to the digital elite who’ve accrued a substantial following because we think they did so by merit and prestige and surely they would be able to shake things up to make people do stuff, right?

Another worrying assumption; that followers is something achieved by the followed. As if thousands or millions of individuals that made that choice for infinitely varying reasons are all an extension of the followed and that they did so because of some criteria that they excelled in. As if people use logic and ethics to make choices. As if “influencers” don’t actively seek out followers by carving out a niche casting wide nets to catch roaming people in search of somewhere to dull down and someone to defer to. It’s akin to driftwood and the mechanics of tidal waves. We’re just bobbing on the waves and claiming the ocean is our private chauffeur.

Character matters more than content because most things on earth and the nature of life is such that you need to be capable of transforming stuff to benefit from them. Food and medicine and utilities aren’t found strewn around. They are made from ingredients and material that contain transformative essences. The internet is going to be a major impediment because it has successfully deluded us into thinking that we’re effective because of our overestimation of busy work and actions.

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