Now don’t get me wrong. I am in no way diminishing nor removing therapy, medication or other forms of mental health treatments from the equation, but at the end of the day my higher purpose is this☝🏽⬆️. And all the rest of it- medication, therapy, etc. is simply a means by which Allah has given me to treat myself and return to Him, humbled by my difficulty, and grateful for my higher purpose at the end of the day. This simple piece of knowledge always brings me to a much more peaceful place than anything else. Subhanallah. Alhamdulillah.
Does anybody else/ Do you ever think of something to write about while driving in your car, only to forget what it was when you’re ready and it is actually time to write? 🤦🏾♀️
This reminds me of an experience I had as a kid. Ever since I was little I’ve loved to paint. I love the fluidity of it, I love the somewhat careless/carefree nature of it, I love that you can paint outside the lines and never be wrong because you’re starting with a blank canvas… there ARE no lines!
Anyways, so I enrolled in this summer art camp at this place called D&M art studio. And the experience was of course memorable and sooo fun. But the part I remember the most was this mural that our teacher- Ms. D,would have on one of the walls of her studio. It was this giant mural, usually painted with black paint, outlining a scene like a safari of animals, or a prairie landscape, or an undersea view with all the plants and sea animals. It looked like a giant coloring book page basically. And every year us students would eye that wall because on the very last day of art camp, we’d all get together in our “ready-to-get-messy” t-shirts and we’d just paint our hearts out. We’d each choose different parts to paint and at the end of the day we’d get to look at this beautiful colorful masterpiece!
Gosh good memories. Anyways, in remembering that memory and remembering how fun it was to get my hands, and feet, and clothes and even hair (😳 haha) covered in paint, makes me want to have this for my kids that much more! Can you imagine a family day, where you take all the furniture out of the room and just paint that mural, however you want. And as a family we’d be able to look at it all the time and know that WE did that.
Point is- it sounds fun, and I LOVE this idea. And if anyone ever tries it before me (since I don’t have kids yet lol), and wants to share their pics or experience, please do!!
So to those of you who don’t know, and/or did not read the title of this blog, I have Major Depressive Disorder, surprise! 😀
Lol ok no but for real, its a diagnosis I have been tied to since as early as 5th grade, but looking back I had signs of it relatively early on. I am not sure if it was due to family related situations, or if I was born with it, or predisposed, or what, and I don’t really care anymore. The point is, its a thing, that I have, and its sooo. much. fun. (She said with a strained distressed smile, bags hollowing out her undereyes). Anywhoo, so you get the picture. I also have spent a rocky road of 15+ years trying to treat it, and ultimately landed on a medication called Bupropion which I honestly feel has been helping. I first noted the effects about 4 to 5 months into it, but I am sure I was experiencing it earlier. I started running and the exercise I think really boosted it. And yadda yadda yadda, (I’ll talk about my initial experience with this medication in another post).
For the sake and purposes of THIS post however, I want to talk about the medication 2 years out- meaning I have been on it for 2 years now. Something I noticed when I initially started taking it was how much more energy and passion I felt I had. When something bothered me, instead of feeling numb and crawling into a bawl crying alone in my closet, I actually had the energy and gumption to voice and vocalize my anger, frustration, and my hurt. It was honestly a wonderful feeling. I also realized I could get into fights a little more often, and sometimes I would say something without thinking, thus effecting my relationships and regretting what I had said.
In reflecting over the past 2 years, I initially really loved this and when my doctor asked me about anxiety related side effects, I told her that I do feel as though I get anxiety now, but I honestly felt that it was me being my true self, and that the depression had been hiding this true gumption personality for the past 15 years now. She asked me about anxiety again and I brushed it off saying I was doing good and that a little bit of anxiety was good. I also decided that in having this new found anxiety, I need to learn (much later than others) how to control said anger and anxiety and energy and channel it properly. Calm down a little and learn to let some things go. And to continue to practice THINKING before I speak or act. Much like people with anger management issues may have.
Now… I’m starting to think the anxiety might be a lot. I am not really sure. I just know that I get anxiety a lot. I overthink, and ruminate and write, and type, and speak a LOT. I can see how some people may acknowledge this as “smart” and I liked feeling that way for a bit but I am worried that perhaps the anxiety is getting out of hand. I am not really sure what to do at this point. I am now on three meds (1.5 of bupropion, and a medication for my ICS diagnosis) at the age of 24 and the thought of being put on yet another medication kinda worries me.
Has anyone here dealt with depression medication related anxiety? And if so how do you deal with it? Is it something you felt was severe enough that you needed to change your medication? I’m really searching for answers at this point. I am happy because the medication I feel is working in the sense that I can get out of bed and do stuff (sometimes), and it doesn’t affect me like previous medications did like causing me to constantly be hungry or constantly feel sleepy. It has not come with any side effects that I was able to discern and I like that, and I like it. And i would like for it to stay that way. But of course at one point I guess you have to decide, to what extent is the side effect affecting your life negatively that you need to change it.
Anyways, just looking for some help and advice really. Thanks yall! Buh byye and salaam!
Day….3million 7 hundred and 40 something of depressive episodes underway. I feel like I just can’t catch a break. Fear, self doubt, paranoia, the feeling that whatever I do will never be done as well as I want it to be done. These things are constantly wracking my brain. Its the reason I haven’t posted regularly in a long time on here. Its the reason I’ve deleted all my identifying social media platforms because I’m afraid of what other people will think and/or judge about me.
I go to a toxic workplace where people gossip about me and that has ramped up my paranoia to another level. And then mull over and over about the embarrassing things that I’ve done while I was there. I mull over all the things I did that I hope wasnt obvious but probably totally was.
I then relate those “great” memories to all the embarrassing moments prior to me starting this work (aka throughout my entire life) and start to convince myself that I’m crazy. That my family looks at me like I’m crazy. That they look at me the same way they look at my bipolar disorder aunt who is 40 and lives with her parents and hasn’t had a job for over 20 years now.
I’m beginning to dwindle but this writing is helping a lil right now.
Its reminding me of how fortunate I am too have all the caring and loving people that I Do have in my life. A loving grandmother who will do anything for me. All of my grandparents being alive. A wonderful mother and brother. I’m reminded that people don’t look at my aunt the way they do because she is crazy but because she is not helping out. Because she sits at home all day. I’m reminded that that does NOT have to be me. I’m reminded that I sent in my applications yesterday and I can sign up for classes somewhere if I don’t get in anywhere.
I’m reminded that this is just a toxic workplace and that when I am around my friends and the people I love, I am NOT weird to them. I’m not messed up. I’m funny, im understood, they don’t take my jokes the wrong way but rather get them perfectly. Ok I’m done I should get dressed for work now.
Buh bye ✌🏽
May 1st- lol I’m reading this right now and this really sounds like period mood swings. Also, I’m fasting so probably a little hangry too. But reading it is helpful for me to realize how much I can psych myself out just by being in my head for too long. Its good to get out of your head. Put words on paper, do a painting, take a walk, deliver a pizza, help an old lady across the street, just DO something. Its really easy to not do something nowadays because we have our phones. But hopefully we can learn to put it down and be an active member of society instead.
Today I went to work and I thought about you. I work as a medical scribe in a hospital and the employees and staff that I just so happen to work with all happen to be primarily white. Now let me make a distinction Nanaba before I continue, I’ve grown up around white/Caucasian/ethnically european people all my life, they’re my friends , my coworkers, my teachers, my everything – that was not the concerning factor. What was the distinguishing factor though was how different this group of people were from my friends in the past who just so happened to also be white/Caucasian/ or ethnically of European descent. You see Nana, my friends in the past had always lived around diversity. They already knew about things like Ramadan and fasting, hijab, 5 daily prayers, and such. They felt comfortable asking about what they didn’t know and they embraced me for exactly who I was deep on the inside. They didn’t judge me nor were they afraid of me because of my exterior dress or because I may have a few differences from them. They were comfortable with difference and welcomed me whole heartedly- the differences, the similarities, and the crazy haha :). Even the people who may not have been my “friends,” they knew enough to know that I was not some weirdo like they show on TV.
So you can imagine my surprise when I came to encounter these people at my work. They did not know a THING about me! My religion, my culture, nor anything else and they didn’t even bother to ask. Let me set the record straight, if they did not know anything, that would be fine, but they also had no interest in learning anything about me either. (As I write this, I am beginning to realize how toxic this whole job and situation was. I am honestly surprised I did not leave earlier.)
In either case, back on track. So yeah these people were different. Instead of being willing to ask questions they were instead too afraid to ask questions, and subsequently proceeded to say nothing at all, instead opting to make judgements in their head about who I might be. I remember a doctor meeting me for the first time and the FIRST thing he said to me was – “so you guys get arranged marriages right?” He then proceeded to tell me about his Pakistani friend who he knew in college, who made really good Indian food. My issue was that he did not even ask me a question really, he just ASSUMED my family did arranged marriages and that was that. I was frustrated that that was the first thing he thought of when he saw me instead of – “oh a human being I’ve never met, maybe I should ask how she is doing, or how her job is”, or literally a billion other possible questions! But no he had to start with arranged marriages. Which we both know he clearly doesn’t subscribe to and so if my answer was yes, he would proceed to continue to judge me for being weird or different.
“But [so and so], you’re clearly seeing half of this all in your head, why bother thinking of all of this? He probably isn’t thinking half of it any way.”
A: Oh he’s thinking it. People don’t always have to spell things out, for you to know that you are being judged, or that people are too afraid to talk to you, or they are too nervous to ask a question. They do that thing where they give each other a look and pause for a second before they continue talking to you and its horrific.
Is it terrible that when he asked me that question I actually appreciated that he asked me a question instead of all the other doctors and PA’s that said nothing? And instead talked behind my back, finding it strange that I run with a scarf on (also I no offense but why is that so strange? The act of running isn’t impossible to do while also wearing a covering over your hair. The two are not mutually exclusive. Okay anyways, I digress.)
The rest of them were pretty toxic as well. And I don’t mean prejudice-wise. They were just not very nice to the people around them. The moment someone left the room, they’d proceed to gossip about that person’s divorce, or difficulty having a baby, or annoying voice. They’d complain about poor patients that had DEMENTIA! Like c’mon, that’s pretty low, she can’t even help that . Anywayyyyys this is not a rant against the people I work with. So getting back to the point Nanaba, I felt isolated. I felt so alone. I felt so weird suddenly because of the color of my skin, and my very very fragrant Indian lunches, and the fact that I brought a water bottle with me to the bathroom. And for the first time in my life Nanaba, I understood what you went through every single day that you lived here. I don’t even have an accent but you had that too! You were surrounded by dozens of people that looked nothing like you, who didn’t invite you to their parties or make jokes with you as a group. They probably did not talk to you often. You probably missed home so so much- your food, the hyderabadi streets with the athaan calling 5 times a day. And yet, you continued to persevere, to treat everyone with love and kindness. To continually and consistently pray your salah 5 times a day. You did it so much that people interested in Islam would come to you for guidance. You loved people and that was all that mattered.
And so today, when I felt alone and isolated, and like everyone was mocking me, I thought about you and how often you would tell me “Allah is ALWAYS with you [insert my name here].” I thought about how brave you must’ve been to live in this new country with no Muslims around, nor mosques for miles and miles around. I thought about how proud and supportive you were of my mother/(your daughter) for deciding to wear the hijab instead of fearing what people may say about her. I thought about all the times you changed a heart in the VA- like people like John who initially did not like you, but later on only wanted YOU to treat him.
I thought about your courage and your strength. I thought about your love, your kindness, and your caring and patient personality. I thought about your lovely smile and laugh that always brings a smile to my face. I love you so much Nanaba. I love the smile you bring to my face and the way your eyes light up when you tell a joke about marriage. I love how happy you become when you are around your brothers and I wonder what kind of smile you used to have when you were around your favorite brother Salah-uddin taya.
I love your scary stories and the way you say “stupid” and how silly it sounds coming from a person who’s speech is always so eloquent and dignified. I love how much you love Werther’s original candy and bagels with sour cream and sugar. I love remembering how you would take us to Dairy Queen after Sunday school and your great hugs that I always wished would never end.
I love you Nanaba. I love everything you have taught me and everything you have raised me to be. I know you go through pain because of me sometimes because I am not sure if I am going to pursue medicine and my parents’ situation, but I hope you know that I am not in pain. I am not sad because of my situation. I know that Allah (swt) tests those He loves. He tested The Prophet (s) with no parents, and he tested you with no mother for most of your life, and Allah swt chose to test me with a father that is sometimes there and sometimes he’s not. But honestly, that is probably the least difficult test compared to the other two difficulties I mentioned that my nana and my Prophet (s) had to endure. Allah swt never gives us a burden with which we cannot bear. So the only real thing to be scared of is that this difficulty leads me astray instead of closer to Allah (swt). So please pray that whatever I face Nanaba, that I seek Allah swt even more and more with each test.
Oops! I almost forgot to post my weekly post! I apologize y’all, I’ve got a couple notes in the works but I’ve just been a little busy with applications and all. Soo….I don’t have a written post this week again🙊🙈🙈.
BUT…. I love hiking and parks. There’s something so serene about being in nature and the wilderness that I truly thrive off of.
So I thought I’d leave you with a little picturesque scene from one of my nature walks last fall. Sighh, oh how I do miss the seasons when snow isn’t on the ground. (I think I’d be less salty if I had a working car to be honest)😅😬
(I also had to shovel my way out of my neighborhood this morning, just to get to work, because the snow plower didn’t come to our house this morning🤦🏽♀️. So that wasn’t making me like winter any more than I already barely did)
I have a private instagram where I document all my lil book reflections and selfies and silly photos with my friends, but I thought I’d bring some of the book reflections over here. Below is a reflection I wrote down in the midst of reading this book. I got to the end of the chapter and was so illuminated by it’s contents, that I quickly wrote down whatever I could.
As a privileged daughter of two doctors I’ve always been taught to behave humbly around others and constantly be aware of the privilege I have. And while I loved that lesson, I think I tended to mix it with this sort of guilt-trip; Where I’d feel guilty around my friends because I knew I had blessings and opportunities that they did not have. I felt guilty for just being me. But reading this taught me a lot about what one can DO with privilege instead of wasting time, feeling guilty for having nice things in life!
This man’s plight and fight for justice, all while dealing with a terminal, and progressively worsening disease was such an inspiring moment. He truly spoke (and continues to speak) till his last breath. I honestly recommend everyone, no matter who you are, to please read this book. Death is a fact of life we will all inevitably have to face, but this man’s one story can really change the way you think about things. And perhaps live through action instead of in fear.
The Warrior Within 