The devil is in the details

I realized that I’ve always gotten the short end of the stick in my general interactions and relationships with people because I put them to the task of dividing the stick, thinking they would do me justice. I let them dictate who I was by what I did, thinking they would be fair and just. I really did. I was taught this, that people were objective witnesses of me and if I didn’t get the desired validation it’s because I wasn’t worthy of it.

It’s not easy to find your way out of social conditioning, to find the crack in the simulation to realize it’s not really you and that the system isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. In fairness, we’re extremely rudimentary and limited as humans. We know more about the external world than the internal ; the psyche. So we’re bound to project everything outwards and have that be the be all, end all. Of course, there will be those who manipulate this blindspot to their favour.

Man down.

The whole Tina Knowles and Richard Lawson debacle where people were saying she emasculated him and you shouldn’t disrespect your man, makes me so uncomfortable.

A man should be and feel respected, supported and appreciated. However this shouldn’t come at the expense of self-censorship or monitoring oneself to not trigger any uncomfortable reactions in him. A woman isn’t the custodian of a man’s feelings.

A woman isn’t the custodian of a man’s feelings

Halllooowww? Can you hear me? A man who feels emasculated by a woman’s self-expression is immature and entitled af! Are people seriously suggesting that a woman bow down to his ego? Yo, this is so whack especially because I hate men like that. They disgust me. For real. I would never ever ever marry a man who is that fragile and who I have to coddle and hold myself back just in case. Let him talk!!

Men need to learn to communicate instead of relying on women picking up on their cues and emotional needs

And women are the maintainers of the status quo precisely through this dynamic of keeping a man comfortable where he is. Men need to learn to own their emotions, to own their space, to express their truths, to cut off toxic women who leech on them, to enforce boundaries, to self-regulate, to give up the external glory for inner stability and transcendental meaning. To find an outlet for masculinity through contributing, not collecting.

Men need tough love, not more coddling. They’ve been coddled far too long and their initial reaction to women taking a step back is being resentful and joining movements like MGTOW (men go their own way). It’s quite literally like a child throwing a tantrum, threatening the parents with plans of running away from home.

Sweet love

Your strength is gauged not by how much you can repress your true feelings (as opposed to visceral reactions triggered when threatened) but by how impervious your emotional body (heart) is to your mental body (mind)

That is, strength is measured by how ineffective mind control, manipulation, and the sway of the mind is on one.

+update

To put it another way : it’s the ability to tolerate inner conflict and the dissolution of coping mechanisms of the ego.

I believe this is the premise of Dąbrowski’s theory of Positive Disintegration.

Freedom from admiration

Made this my whatsapp dp. First time I’ve been able to put up a pic showing my fat arms and double chin. Lord graced me with a face that doesn’t betray the true numbers on the scale (3 digits!). But I’m done hiding and I don’t even have to explain why I gained over 100 pounds in the past 4 years.

I’ve survived worse than judgements and snarkiness and rejection. My body has been the real mvp for surviving ME. It took all my self-hate, all my homicidal tendencies turned inwards against myself, all my efforts at dying. It took it like a champ and protected me. Didn’t develop cancer or any other serious disease that would be a reasonable outcome to how I’ve been living since I was 16. It could have turned the comfort eating into physical danger, but it just created cushions to embrace me, to protect my emerging fragility from the world.

And even though I’ve been fat for a few years now, I’ve always felt fat because of my body dysmorphia. Even when I was battling anorexia and bulimia as a 13,14 year old. That’s what made it easier for me to hold space for myself and not react everytime I met my disappointment in the mirror. I understood that I can’t be fighting several battles at once, and once I deal with the root issues, the external will follow suit. And it surely has. It hasn’t translated to a snap back because there’s so much else to me that is more important right now. Things that strangers on a bus can’t readily perceive. And it’s fine.

It’s fine that people become shocked when they see me. What happened? For a long while I just wanted to lose weight to avoid those glances and intrusive comments. I wanted to bury myself because of the shame. Because people couldn’t see my battles, my victories, my injuries and my progress. But it’s fine. Because I shouldn’t have to rest on people’s perception of me. It taught me, it forced me to accept myself unconditionally, even at my worst. It forced me to see myself even when I felt there was nothing redeemable or noteworthy about me. I was forced to break the conditioning that my worth lay in my proportioned curves that for so long had been the envy and admiration of many. I fell from grace, it felt like. But was it grace? To have parts of me admired for meeting certain arbitrary conditions that were liable to fluctuate? No. It was a pyramid scheme. It led me to believe that I, as Mulki, was being loved. No. People were loving the image that they could project on me. They loved what I entailed, what I represented, but not who I actually was. And I conflated what I represented with who I was, so sweet was the validation.

And I don’t care that my skin is glowing because that only makes me more self-conscious about my hyperpigmentation that looks like a 5 o’clock shadow. I’d rather pass on zooming in and evaluating bits and pieces of me. If you cut out the parts you admire about me, you’d have rotting bloody flesh on your hands. Yuck.

Conquer thy dragon

Women know how to create an illusion of obedience that is false. We’ve been primed to be ninjas, stealthy, leaving no trace of our machinations, not even in our own conscious minds.

The trick is, to do everything in your power to draw attention to yourself and your good behaviour while acting oblivious when you get noticed. If you don’t get noticed, everything you’ve done is in vain because unless it’s acknowledged it doesn’t exist. You don’t exist.

Every day I uncover threads in my mind, from yarns of programming in the deeper recesses of my psyche. Today for instance, I noticed a distinct yearn to have closure to this phase of my life through the recognition of a man I love, secretly. I asked myself, what is this feeling I have that longs to be recognized by the male gaze, almost as if I’m a sunflower seeking the sun? An image popped up, a sort of generic representation of Disney stories, princesses and damsel in distress and the like. The redemption always came when a valiant man would save them from the shackles of evil. No one would fight back against him, allowing (me) a swift and smooth exit. I could not have been more than 5 when this pathway was planted in my young subconscious mind. Yes, planted. It wasn’t something that came from my parents or anywhere else. I keep seeing a Cinderella-like character in simple clothes dancing in a meadow. The suffering would all be worth it once he came.

I was aghast. I’m no stranger to uncovering malicious and otherworldly secrets, but to think that the garments that I was dressing my thoughts in were spun from a yarn that was manufactured to control me, as a child, is just..

Like I always do when I uncover a shadow aspect in me, I asked Allaah to uproot it and heal me and guide me.

My existence was held hostage by false images. Uncovering illusions and falsehood is my favourite thing because nothing repairs hope like seeing what caused so much ache dismantled before your (inner) eyes. Thread by thread. Allaah has been more than Kind. He’s taken me on a long journey and didn’t let me go even when I was frustrated and kicking and screaming because I didn’t want to leave my station in ego. I thank Him every single day for not leaving me to my own devices and I continously ask Him to not leave me to my own devices because I don’t even know what I’m up against. It’s only after the battle is over that I understand the true magnitude of what I was facing.

When I get frustrated with trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, I calm myself down by telling myself : what I don’t know, He does. What overpowers me, He overpowers. What I can’t see, He sees. What I can’t do, He can. What I lack, He possesses in abundance.

I’m reminded that I don’t need to know everything or acquire everything to be given access to what I need when I need it. The wisdom, skill, inspiration, knowledge, people come when I need those resources to complete my work. I don’t need to come equipped with anything to follow the divine will.

At no harm’s length

I’ve been trying to understand the LGBTQ, and especially the trans phenomenon in depth. Not to disprove it or anything, but just understand what caused it to just spring up like that over a generation. The gender dysphoria is a very real thing. I think trans people, those in the West at least, are channeling some sort of split in the collective psyche. Like a social mutation from the heavy mind control and manipulation of evil forces in society. People, especially women, are grasping at intellectual straws to save themselves from the extreme quagmire that is the West. It’s oozing and rotting, meanwhile the Western nations try to divert the internal distress outwardly on others.

For sure, I believe that a lot are jumping ships and hiding amongst, or shall I say behind, the LGBTQ alliance for social redemption. It’s become an elective minority you can tick, for many. But for others it’s the only way they know how to stop this existential hemorrhage. It’s like queerness is the only nuanced mental space that won’t crush them.

The West has become this empirical Juggernaut that strips everything of meaning that isn’t definite and placated by intellectual reasoning. And here is a community that claims the unverifiable and fights for their rights to have their identity protected from this juggernaut.

It’s like the canary in the coal mine and unlike what a lot purport, I don’t think it’s the rise of pc culture and social justice warriors that is ‘destroying’ everything. I think things are already so destroyed that people have to fend for their very last breaths in whatever way they know how. Especially the divine feminine, which is extremely distorted and mauled.

All this isn’t an intellectual exercise, it’s an intuitive translation of an image I’m seeing. Image created from my search for meaning and understanding of this. And it’s been a couple of years in the making. It’s not something I’ve made up from a detached point. I’ve interacted with it as deeply as I could.. There’s a lot wanting because I don’t have the academic jargon to translate this, or rather correlate this to intellectual concepts. And the English language is skewed towards the (distorted) masculine and the mind without heart. It resists the expression of unification of ideas and holism. It strips everything down to the sensory components as if that’s all there is to existence.

I can’t not be me

There’s nothing anyone can do to reward me for being what Allaah created me to be. Let your thanks go to Him, and just keep it a buck with me.

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