#self progression

Throughout my life, I have always strived for perfection until I realized that I should instead be focusing on my progress. Progression truly shows the obstacles you have overcome and the strength that you have gained. While trying to seek perfection is daunting and nearly impossible, seeking progression is not.  There are many ways in which you have made progress even if you have yet to realize it.  The fact that you are here; still fighting to make it through and achieve your goals, shows a lot of progression within itself. Let yourself focus on any bit of progress that you have made and allow yourself to be proud of that progress.

Always remember: you are strong; you are courageous: you are WORTH it!

بقى عندي صحاب قريبين ودايرة معارفي وسعت بس عمرى ما حسيت إني بخير وعارفة اتعامل وسطهم، وعمري ما حسيت إني بخير وأنا لوحدي حتى. كان الفيصل لما فشلت تماما ف التعامل مع العالم المحيط، والموضوع ابتدا يأثر عليا جسديا. ابتديت احس إني فعلا مش قادرة اساعد نفسي وفعلا محتاجة مساعدة خارجية. روحت للدكتور، مكنش سهل عليا ابدا، حتى معرفتش اتكلم معاه واقوله اللي ف دماغي. بس هو قالي إني هبقى بخير وطمني. بدأت احضر جلسات علاج جماعي، وابتدا الوقت يعدي، كان تقيل على روحي، كان صعب، وكنت عارفة إن الحكاية محتاجة وقت، وكنت عارفة إن الوجع مش هيكون سهل. بعد ٧ شهور اخدت خطوة، أول خطوة! مش قادرة اوصف اد ايه ده كان صعب لأنه كان وجع لا يمكن أي حد يتحمله. وقتها كان بيتهيأ لي إن محدش حواليا، من كتر الوجع مكنتش شايفة أي حاجة أو أي حد بس هما كانوا موجودين ومحاوطيني. على قد الوجع بس برضه مش قادرة اوصف احساس انى اكون بخير، قد إيه جميل واد إيه عامل زى السحر، ويستاهل الوجع والله.

أنا دلوقتى بحضر الجروب ثيرابى بقالي سنة وسبع شهور. أنا بكتب ده دلوقتي وأنا مش بخير وبمر بنوبة شديدة من التوتر والقلق، مسيطر عليا إحساس إني مش كفاية ومش مكتفية ومتأخرة وفايتني حاجات كتير والوقت بيعدي. بتزورني أفكار كتير إني مش مقبولة وإحساس بالرفض من الناس اللى على أساسه مبقدرش اتكلم واقول اللى ف بالي، دايما حاسة إن اللي هقوله مش مهم أو الناس هتتريق عليه. بس فرق دلوقتى عن من سنة وسبع شهور فاتوا هو حالة "الشوفان" وبوضوح اللى أنا فيها، اللى متأكدة إنها هتسهل وتسرع الشفا. أنا بس محتاجة دايما افتكر إن مرضي حقيقي واقبله عشان اعرف اغيره. محتاجة افكر نفسى دايما إني جميلة واستاهل، واستاهل التعب اللى بتعبه عشان ابقى بخير. افكر نفسى إن ربنا انعم عليا بناس حواليا، ناس حقيقية، بيساعدوني مساعدات مباشرة وغير مباشرة، وساعات كتير من غير ما يعرفوا. افكر نفسى دايما إني مش لوحدي، وإن عشانهم أنا هبقى بخير، عشان لما يحتاجوني يلاقوني. أنا هكون كويسة، وهكون بخير.

Thanks to tumblr I knew that today, the 10th of October, is the World Mental Health Day. I'd take the chance and collect all the courage I have to narrate and talk about how my mental health was affected, and my share of mental illness and insecurities. I remember myself, a teenage in the late preparatory and early secondary stage, thinking that the first thing I will do once I grow old and have my own money is to go and visit a psychiatrist and tell him everything I have and everything ever visited my mind. Growing older I thought that what I feel is only because I have no close friends and no social network, and that my insecurities are mainly a reason for my childhood trauma. I grew older and discovered that my insecurities and social anxiety are issues in themselves and not just symptoms.

I started having a close friend and a social network yet I never felt okay around, and never felt okay alone as well! Up to the point when I was unable to properly deal with the surrounding world and when it started affecting me physically, I knew I needed help. I wasn't able to help myself and needed an external help and assistance. I went to the doctor, it was hard, I couldn't even share with him what I have in mind. He assured I can be okay. I started attending a group therapy. Time passed, I knew it won't be easy, and I knew it will take long, and I knew it will hurt. It took me 7 months to take a step, a first step. I can't describe how hard that was because it hurt more than anyone can imagine. I thought at that time I had no support, but discovered later that they were around but I was so blind to see. Despite how hard​ that felt, I can't describe as well how beautiful it is the feeling of healing. Healing is magic and worth the suffer.

 A year past the quarter life mark I found myself in a new place, a new friend circle, with new hobbies and a new job. Things were looking up. I had everything we were taught to pursue in our lives. I had money, a nice house, good friends, good looks, and good health. On paper my life was perfect. Yet underneath it all I still found the same kind of unhappiness. An unhappiness that began before my earliest memories, way back when my self worth ceased to develop and the consequential anxiety found it’s home in my day to day livings. 

Don’t fret, this isn’t a tale of my greyscale upbringing or the wars waged in ones mind. This is an uplifting story, one of grand realisation and triumph. “But who is the antagonist in this tale” you ask? Let me tell you, inquisitive reader! The evil here is conformity. Conformity coupled with my own ignorance. 

In my young, confused and anxious state, I saw only one path to the happiness I saw in others. That path was other’s acceptance. I began to focus on moulding myself into what it seemed my peers saw as valuable. Everything from dimming my creative mind to literally changing my voice. This shape shifting answer to my self hatred continued and progressed on a ridiculous scale. As the values of those around me refocussed, so did my person. I was at one time or another a guitarist, a surfer, a fighter, a worker and the list goes on. Next University was the hot topic so I enrolled. From there I found love and camaraderie in the party scene. The alcohol numbed my anxiety and I opened up. I finally had confidence. In retrospect, it may have just been hateful disregard for everyone else present. Either way I could be obnoxiously myself, people loved me, and I was finally worth something. Then, drugs did the same, and University quickly fizzled into another passing phase. I was left with nothing but the monotony of a day to day job I didn’t belong in, and the far off prospect of starting a business in an industry I hated. But that is the goal is it not? To be successful and make money? Ah, but I’m sure you all know by now, and if you don’t listen up. Success and making money are two very, VERY different things. But hey, me being me, it would take another 5 or so years to dial that one in. Meanwhile, I took the term floating through life, warped it into some sort of habitual drug abusing monster and used it to drag down anyone stupid enough to come close. I was on a fast track to living the hopeless life of a deadbeat. 

Skip to 2016, after moving to the Gold Coast of Australia I was sitting in a well paying job, had a business qualifying amount of money in my bank account, I was in one of the most beautiful places in the world, and I was surrounded by great friends. Things were looking up. In the brief moments that my ego was big enough to overshadow my self hatred I was under the impression I was actually happy. However I did feel a defining point in my life was fast approaching. I would either fill the emptiness in between my states of satisfaction with another triviality and find constant happiness, or the climb for success would cast me down once again, and I wasn’t sure I’d make it back this time. Well I’m here writing this, so we know how that all ended, right? Wrong. The twist here could have come straight from a George R.R. Martin novel. What I found was neither trivialities, nor a fast approaching pavement. What I found over a 3 month catharsis of some sorts, was an intelligent, interesting and valuable human. I found a purpose, and in turn direction. Although I was pissed there wasn’t a sense of humour in there, I’d found actual happiness. I found myself, and far more importantly, I found a way to love myself. 

I’m not writing this to brag, or rub it in, if you haven’t found yours yet. And I certainly didn’t just miraculously stumble upon this understanding. The point of awakening in my instance was when one particular person told me that I need to love myself the way they love me, and the way I love others. All I’d needed was permission. From there I added an immense amount of hard work, and guided by those I hold closest, I managed to steer myself from the shallow reef of self destruction I’d been grating over for so long. 

Many weeks of contemplation, writing and discussion later, I know what I really want. And it’s only a matter of time and a little perseverance before my aspirations are realised. The thing is though, this happiness I speak of, it doesn’t lie in the acquisition, it lies in knowing you’re on the right path. I no longer have dreams of who I want to be, or what I want to have. My dreams are of doing something I love every single day, and the best part about moulding your passions into a career is that my dream of doing what I love every single day, is already a reality.