A morning reflection
It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in the broken world.
It's only been an hour since I woke up. It's 6:40 am right now. I've been getting up before 6 am for about a month now, and I love the fresh morning air and the birds chirping. Waking up early has improved my mental health in subtle ways. It gives me a sense of control over my day. I also try not to scroll through social media after waking up.
It's been two days since I started this blog, and it already feels like a space where I can unload my mind before starting the day. I don't expect anyone to read it, so for now, I'll let myself ramble.
I've never written a blog before, but the idea always intrigued me. Journaling never came easy. Blank pages seem to stare at me, and my mind can only stare back. Maybe it's because I've struggled with consistency and discipline—something I'm actively working on.
Yesterday, I finally cleaned my room after days of procrastination. Now, sitting here and writing, I feel a little lighter. They say a messy room is a reflection of a messy mind. Then it makes sense how much of a disorganized mess I am. But I must say, my disorganized state has improved, slightly.
Lately, whenever I feel the pull to procrastinate or scroll through socials, I set a 10-minute timer. It's a small thing, but in the past 3-4 days, it has helped me stay mindful of my time. Sometimes I forget to start the timer itself, but I remind myself to be kind— progress, not perfection.
Kindness towards myself is something I have been working on for the past year. Self-hate has been a big part of my life. Every mistake I made felt like a tight rope tied around my neck and I suffocated myself. I thought I was forever doomed as long as I lived because I was my own hell. As you can see, I was heavily depressed for a long time.
I can't afford therapy and I mask my depression with fake smiles. I had this silly wish someone would notice my mess and save me, but I know it's not gonna come true. I have to save myself. So I started looking through books and mental health posts, trying to find ways to understand what is wrong with me.
I began researching—reading about depression, trauma, PTSD, and complex PTSD. I joined a wonderful Muslimah community on Discord at the end of 2023, and that sense of connection has been invaluable in my healing journey.
This process began long before 2023-2024. Back in 2020, I started confronting my depression. It wasn’t linear; healing never is. One of my friends recently told me she’s proud of me for how I am navigating this journey even though I can't go to therapy. Her words made me pause. For the longest time, I thought my progress was invisible and insignificant. But looking back, I see the small, steady steps I’ve taken.
Healing requires immense strength and commitment to yourself. It feels like taking three steps forward, only to fall back two. But those small acts of courage—the times you choose yourself—matter more than you realize..
I have many more steps to take and miles to walk. It's a long journey ahead. but I can look back and say: I’ve come a long way.