Your truth doesn’t need words to be. It’s a derivative of the One whose witness never fails or falters. So if others deny or downplay your personal experiences, don’t take the reactivity bait because that’ll enter you into a never-ending mental imprisonment of constantly trying to establish your truth outside yourself. Only love can provide the nuance that accepts your truth. So if you have to explain or anticipate invalidation or skepticism then that’s a sign that it’s an inhospitable space for your truth. Don’t force yourself into that atmosphere.
When someone refuses to acknowledge and heal their pain they develop toxic behavioural patterns because they perpetuate the patterns that caused the pain they are in denial of.
So while we can empathize with someone’s core wounds, this can’t be used as an excuse for their toxic behaviours. Hurt people don’t hurt people. There are plenty of hurt people who are too conscientious and sensitive to inflict the pain that they feel.
Toxic people hurt people.
Don’t internalize people’s thoughts (about you). Most of it is automated spam that circulates through their mind unhindered like a runaway train. The inevitable crash is neurotic.
Don’t be people’s refuge from pain. Don’t be what makes them forget about themselves. Don’t look for a purpose to serve or role to play in other’s lives. Be grounded in whatever soothes your soul regardless of what that does for others.
The guilt of disappointing people in the least is so crippling that I’ve usually just suppressed my feelings or forced myself to do the thing. Suppressing my feelings also means I’m neglecting my wounds and malfunctioning psyche for the benefit of keeping my word and keeping others happy.
Going against that gives me severe anxiety. It’s like my whole life has been about not touching the floor because the floor is disappointment. I felt it was wrong to have limitations and being incapacitated by mental disorders. I still thought cptsd was something I should be able to finesse somehow. I treated my social anxiety like a scavenger hunt and I just had to search long enough to find the combinations that made everything click into place.
Apparently my intelligence was a one-stop shop and whatever I couldn’t figure out in my head was impossible to solve otherwise. All the weight of the world on my shoulders by ignorant adults. And now I’m stuck with the repercussions of that overglorification.
For a long while I wish my life could be replaced like faulty parts. I’d wish I could just excise the parts of me I didn’t like or that I imagined were the cause of distress like tumours.
But now I realize that it’s my sickness talking. The parts I hate the most are also the ones that have kept me me, and sane and grounded in who I am. I realize what I really need is restoration so that the hurtful perception is healed.
What I really need is to see the divinity in everything and behind everything. The Hand of God in the creation.
Arab and Persian women are the white women of Muslims.
Hear me out.
Growing up, I was shouldered with the perception of Muslims shaped by Arab/Persian women who came from abusive backgrounds and the only way to have a voice and a platform that people actually heeded was to follow the script of Islaam endorses honour killings and normalizes double standards in regards to boys and girls growing up. I’d be lambasted from media, books, movies, what have you where the only available narrative of Islaam and Muslim women were that of Arab women who instead of calling out their culture, just threw the entire religion under the bus wholesale.
It became so ingrained in me that I distinctly remember that whenever I’d walk with my dad I wouldn’t walk behind him because I was afraid that’d be inferred to be some religious injunction to be a second class citizen. Nor would I walk beside him because I was afraid that people would think I’m a child bride. I was 12!!!!
I didn’t know why I had this overlay put on my experience when it was such a foreign concept to me. And I didn’t understand why I was assumed guilty until proven innocent. But I was. It wasn’t until I grew older that I started understanding the subtext of these women’s testimonials but also the propaganda that was pushing these narratives. It sure wasn’t out of empathy with the victims.
And now, it’s become a get rich quick scheme. The latest being the Saudi teen who was taken in by Canada because she was an atheist fearing for her life. Never have I come across an Arab or Persian woman who is a victim of her culture calling out her culture. Never. It’s a cognitive dissonance because if she can somehow find an external motive for the toxicity in the men in her life then she doesn’t have to discard them. She can just say they’re like that because Islaam made them. Finding such shortcuts has devastating repercussions because instead of containing the toxic, you’re letting it seep out and affect those who have nothing to do with it.
African and African-descent Muslims are usually on the receiving end of the culture struggles of Muslims on the Asian continent as a whole. It’s not healing if you’re not being honest. It’s not healing if you’re using your trauma as a come-up. It’s not healing if you’re not considering the consequences of creating narratives that don’t trigger you. It’s not healing if you’re burying the triggers like landmines for others to step on.
I’ve never before put it together consciously like this but I’m just realizing how hurt and resentful I am. How hurt I am that there are women who’ve known pain but seem so oblivious to what they’re doing to reinforce it in others. Women who hold TED talks entitled What We Don’t Know About Europe’s Muslim Kids and then go on to say
The thing is that most people don’t understand is that there are so many of us growing up in Europe who are not free to be ourselves. Who are not allowed to be who we are. We are not free to marry, or to be in a relationship with people that we choose. We can’t even pick our own career. This is the norm in the Muslim heartlands of Europe. Even in the free societies in the world, we’re not free. Our lives, our dreams, our future doesn’t belong to us, it belong to our parents and their community
Are disingenuous crooks that take the bait that white neo imperialists put out for them under the guise of saving them. Feminist missionaries. The epitome of toxic femininity is embodied in these women and I’m sick of it.
Leave me tf be.