Mulki’s cave


Day:Friday, 1st
Month:December
Year :1989
Time: 00:09
Place : Alvesta, Sweden
Age: 28


Picture: Madre, padre, me. 1st birthday party. December 1st 1990


Ages 0-14: Sweden

Age 15: Kenya [spent half a year in Somalia+ Kenya at my behest so I could escape bullies that made life hell for me at school 😒]

Ages 16-21: Kenya [moved to Kenya permanently with my family after I finished 9th grade]

Ages 22-23: Egypt [ Moved on my own to study. Lived with friends]

Ages 24-25: Sweden [back after nearly 8 years abroad. First time fully acknowledging the teeters my mental health was in and how much moving around destabilized me as a highly sensitive person]

Age 26: UK [ temporarily moved to the UK in what in hindsight was me bypassing the healing I needed to do. I wanted to fastforward shit so that I could rejoin society as a ‘functional’ member. Fell into the clutches of highly toxic and manipulative people I thought were friends]

Ages 27-28: Sweden [ First time I’m accepting my existential task and my lot. Spent all this time in introspection, mindfulness and weekly sessions with a psychologist. Road to healing isn’t quick but it’s meaningful and long lasting.]


Theme of past year : Enduring the tension of paradoxes

Theme of this year : Allowing the divine will through my imagination, unhindered by fears or preconceptions

Death by numbness [II]

I’m a criminal

and my frail heart my unwitting victim

It was I who broke my own heart
It was I who brought this pain upon myself
It was I who broke my spirit this way,

For it was I who held onto an illusion.

 

Death by numbness [I]

My heart is sobbing and I’m sobbing with it
It’s telling me something that I can’t understand
It’s fumbling in my chest, as if it’s looking for something buried in between my ribs
I sometimes catch myself succumbed to a mysterious melancholy
Crept upon me like a fog
or the way dusk permeates the sky in a discreet fashion
I feel my heart conspires with the fabrics of my soul and mind
Huddled in a hush-hush conclave
I’m assigned to bear the brunt of my own secrets
I’m a foreigner to my own heart, and for that I’m mourning.

Don’t force things

“Out of evil, much good has come to me. By keeping quiet, repressing nothing, remaining attentive, and by accepting reality – taking things as they are, and not as I wanted them to be – by doing all this, unusual knowledge has come to me, and unusual powers as well, such as I could never have imagined before.
I always thought that when we accepted things they overpowered us in some way or other. This turns out not to be true at all, and it is only by accepting them that one can assume and attitude towards them.
So now I intend to play the game of life, being receptive to whatever comes to me, good and bad, sun and shadow forever alternating, and, in this way, also accepting my own nature with its positive and negative sides. Thus everything becomes more alive to me.
What a fool I was! How I tried to force everything to go according to way I thought it ought to. ”

C.G. Jung

Important!

This diagram is imperative in understanding the dynamics of depression & suicidal thoughts. Please share, perchance someone at the end of their wits might find this helpful. It’s been of tremendous help to me!

Source

 

 

coping

The social media recluse

I’m what I call a ‘selective recluse’. I live in my own,isolated corner of society and only come out to mingle when something catches my attention that is sweeter than my solitude. I left Facebook in 2011 when I realized that it had run its course; in the beginning,when I signed up, it was vibrant and alive. People were actually human beings and not just ‘account holders’. A ‘like’ actually meant a like. There were no follow-bait or click-bait where people do anything to get noticed. Then this need, this lowly egotistical darkness took over. It started out as a tiny blot in the caveats of our flawed human nature, as part and parcel of flaws that makes us beautiful and humble. The flaws and imperfections that teach us how to love, that kind of flawed.

But then this need I mentioned, it took on a life of its own. It grew like a cancerous cell that permeated the human element and turned everything into shiny surfaces that looked good. Nothing grows on shiny  surfaces. No warmth, no kindness,no empathy. So this thing, this vain monster became the pivotal point around which society circumvoluted; everything was now based on this decadent trend. You look yourself in the mirror and all you see is how selfie-ready you look like, how many likes you could garner – how to make yourself forget that you’re a human with flaws. So then, arrogance and haughtiness enters the picture. You look down on anyone who doesn’t look like selfie-material. Essentially, flawed,mistake-prone,warm,loving,hurting,laughing human beings – the way a human is supposed to be sans the whole facade of perfection and glamour.

You see someone in need and the first instinct is to make fun of the person on twitter. You see a dying person and the first thing you do is instagram it and tell others how you were there. Life unfolds in front of you and you never process it, you don’t really experience it. It gets lost in the countless statuses and tweets that are all about the limelight.

There are wars erupting, a deadly virus pandemic looming over us, a sinister elite who push the envelope to advance its interests; but the capacity to bear the brunt of these events and let it stir emotions in us; compassion,grief,anger – anything, is numbed. It was obliterated by that shiny surface.

How can we practice compassion for others when we are constantly critiquing ourselves and judging our worth by our social media presence? How can we be concerned about the turmoil and disturbances going on around us when we are trying so hard to ignore our inner turmoil?

What’s going on in the world is a reflection of what is going on inside of each and every one of us. We aren’t all that different. Language barriers and borders only act as physical boundaries, but we are bound by our collective psyche.

Now, I’m not saying that being on social media is reflective of one’s egotism or that being conscientious entails being a recluse like me. Not at all. I’m a recluse because I’m very sensitive and get overwhelmed easily, so my interests are inclined away from clamour. I’m sure if I wasn’t as easily perturbed, that I’d partake in it, in one form or another. But it’s by being on the outside that I can analyse this phenomenon somewhat objectively. I don’t think social media created this mess, it merely brought it out. So it’s not about changing venues or stop taking selfies; it’s about something deeper whence all of this is stemming from. That is what we should investigate in ourselves.

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