Tag: writings

A Gratitude Journal- post 27 birthday

On By sakeenahtahirIn My Story (Category), UncategorizedLeave a comment

Asalamualaikum,

My dear respected brothers and sisters in Islam.

Hehe. Sounds kind of like the khateeb when he gives a khutbah at jummuah.

… I haven’t been to jummuah. In a long time. 😦 I want to go back. Maybe this Ramadan, that will be one of my goals.

Its raining today. The older I get, the more I love rain. The calmness it brings. The way it makes the sound of cars racing by sound different. The way it looks like tiny, nameless, unassuming specs through my window, until it reaches the ground and colors the driveways a dark beige, and then I can see it. I can see it in grand puddles scattered across my neighborhood. Alhamdulillah. Alhamdulillah for rain.

I wonder if it is raining for Aisha’s mom. A friend of mine’s mother passed away yesterday. May Allah be pleased with her and grant her jennah-tul-firdaws. I did not know her. I did not know her daughter very well either, but she is a wonderful woman. May Allah make it easy for my friend as well ameen.

I wanted to take some time today to write a gratitude journal. I am 27 subhanallah! Can you believe it? Oh how quickly time passes. It feels like yesterday I was writing a journal about all the things I learned by 23. Oh gee. I knew nothing at 23! And I will probably feel the same again the next time I write this.

I don’t really have any lessons today. Just a gratitude journal. I am grateful for being given another day to breathe many breaths alhamdulillah. I am grateful to have been able to see my grandparents last weekend and done a paint and pass with my friend.

I am grateful for my full time job that gets me up every morning and out of the house before 9 am. I am grateful my sleep schedule is not as bad as it used to be 2 years ago.

I am grateful for a certain sense of awareness in my life and about my mental health. My mother has always been a heroine to me and she still is. But as she gets older, perhaps she is more bitter or perhaps it has been there her whole life, but I realize her anger and meanness towards me is subtle. She has a way of making me feel guilty without ordering me to do anything. Her questions are suggestions that she makes me feel guilty about not taking in a very slighted manner. It used to get to me. I would beat myself up and never felt accomplished around her, like I was always doing something wrong. My mom likes to solve problems. That is the only way she knows how to show me love too I guess. Especially when she is depressed about her own life. Anyways, this is all to say, that I am grateful I can recognize this now. In the past, I pretty much made her opinions my standard, and since I never matched up to them I was always a failure. Being aware of her behavior now though, I am able to move past it without it getting to my head or tying it to my self worth. Perhaps the concise way to put it is that through my awareness I have learned to compartmentalize. A crucial skill in my profession anyways. So I am grateful for the awareness, and with it the self esteem, and hopefulness I have brought into myself.

I am grateful for the applications I was able to submit, and the money I was able to spend on them.

I am grateful for the many many beautiful clothes I own, and the opportunity to give many away and pass them on to another wonderful person.

I am grateful for water, and the sweetness, and refreshing taste it brings that no other drink can seem to match. Perhaps this is what they mean by the word “quench.” Tea might taste delicious, but nothing quenches thirst like the sweet taste of water on a dry throat.

I am grateful for all the money I am saving by being able to live in my family’s home, and for having a family that lets me live in their home.

I know I cannot make everyone happy. Sometimes I wish I could fix my mothers life, and improve my nani’s mental health. Sometimes I wish I could be the heroine that saves everyone’s day in various ways. I cannot, I am not a superhero and I am certainly not God. But that is why I am lucky to have a God- to leave my problems in Their hands. Oh Allah ease my grandparents’ pains both mental and physical and allow/grant them a sweet death, and a sweet hereafter. Ya Allah allow me to feel content surrounding my grandparents and to not feel regretful. Oh Allah bless my grandparents the honor of being a shaheed and allow the last words on ALL of their lips to be la ilaha ilallah. Make my nani content, happy, peaceful, and calm. Remove the hate she has in her heart towards other people.

Ya Allah fix my family situation. Whatever is bringing difficulty, sadness, tension, depression, unfulfillment, or fear, or pain, please fix it. Please heal it. Please mend it in the way you know best.

Ya Allah protect me. Protect me from mental pain, and physical pain, and financial pain, and emotional pain. Protect me from coming nearer to You via a difficult path.

Grant me a fruitful, successful, and happy Ramadan. Make me someone that brings joy to the people I am around. Ya Allah, surely You know, and I know not. I pray that you grant me help and aid in wherever I need it most. I ask for your help just as Musa (as) asked for Your help. I am in need of whatever it is you can provide for me. Ameeeeeeeeeeen!

Thank you for my car ya Allah. Thank you for my job, my car, my parents, my brother, my family, my speech, my mind, my heart, my limbs, my eyes, and ears, and face. Thank you for every working cell in my body, and the things that don’t work that you protect me from.

Alhamdulillah. Alhamdulillah. Alhamdulillah.

Mental Health: A poem

On By sakeenahtahirIn Mental health, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Ok, I have to admit, I am not normally this brooding. But a session with my therapist today, paired with my monthly hormonal rollercoaster of emotions (girls, you know what I am talking about), led me to discuss some feelings I have, and have had in the past, about me taking medication. There was crying involved. But we got through the session and now I’m here.

In looking back, I realized I went through a crazy loop of feelings (like the ones down below) for a long time before I finally felt like I was starting to climb out of the well of my mental health journey. “Finally” referring to only 1 year ago, which in the grand scheme of having MDD for 14+ years, is relatively recent. Only now do I feel like I can explain it to people, and have a minor grasp of it myself so I can share and teach it to others. However before that, I was in the dark a lot. I was so confused and unable to seek guidance from anyone because none of us understood it! Neither in science, nor in society, and most definitely not my very Indian family. So to put a long story short, apologies for the brooding of the poem, but give it a read. Maybe it can be enlightening in some odd sort of way.

Alone.

In a well.

Capable of seeing the sky but unable to touch the clouds.

The illness of the brain, its a silent sort of pain.

Like the way weeds gingerly dry out a flower bed, while none is the wiser.

Or the way a dying sun is masked by a cloudy day.

Its still happening. Its still painful. Its still there…

Its lingering. Reckless. And messing with my head.

Making me think I’m weak for not “getting over it.”

Convincing me there’s something wrong with me.

Constantly causing me to wonder if other people can see it.

Can you see it? Can you see the “crazy” in me? Am I hiding it well?

I’m told its mostly attributed to trauma.

That the way I look at others and am constantly aware of others’ feelings and comforts,

its not a trait of compassion but rather a result of trauma,

From constantly being told not to cry,

Constantly having the rug pulled from under me with no stable rock to hold onto,

nor any idea of when it might come. Or when it might end.

So? I’m on constant alert, 24/7, walls up.

Guards up…Trust down.

…

Constantly. Constantly, constantly, constantly.

What good is the word for anyway except to emphasize the incident and make it sound worse.

“Constantly catastrophizing” she told me.

Don’t use words like “always”, or “never.”

“Its too dramatic.” she says.

Well, I can’t argue with that.

I am in fact writing a poem right now and I can’t think of anything more dramatic.

But in the context of “dramatic,” I encourage you to look at the word a little differently.

Change dramatic for empathetic.

Now what’s it look like?

Imagine that you’re in her shoes.

The girl dealing with an illness she doesn’t understand and neither does anyone else.

A lab rat to the medications that have no promise of success

Except through trial and error.

Trying to explain it to other’s while trying to understand it herself.

Imagine for however many times a day you think to yourself:

“Why is she so lazy?”

how many more times must she be wondering the same thing,

And yet feel like she has no control in fixing it the way you can do so easily.

Mental health.

The thoughts of the mind.

It’s not a shared experience.

So? You have to believe…

Believe! Believe her when she says “constant”

and imagine it being constant.

Believe her when she says “physical pain!”

and imagine the physical pain.

Put on a shoe that doesn’t fit,

and wonder how far she must’ve walked in it,

In the discomfort.

How must it feel to not be able to identify the problem,

And still yet, instead be wrongly identified as the problem itself by others.

All I ask is for empathy.

For a little bit of empathy.

To recognize that while you may be able to touch the sky

Some other’s cannot.

While you are making strides on pedestals in the clouds

Some others are:

“Alone.

At the bottom of a well.

Capable of seeing the sky, but unable to touch the clouds.”

~Sakeenah Tahir (The Warrior Within)

Daily Journals from my 2018 DC Trip (with Lena)

On By sakeenahtahirIn My Travels, UncategorizedLeave a comment

June 30th, 2018- Day 1 of Trip

Today we saw the most beautiful indescribable hills as we drove through Pennsylvania. It just left me at a loss for words. The mountains kept climbing higher and higher, and wherever we looked it was covered with lush green trees. In some instances we were on a bridge and the trees grew up, beyond the bridge. Additionally, as we drove up and through the mountains, there would be graded rocks on either side of the road. They were every shade and color- from orangey red to beige to even purple, like a plum maroon color. It was so beautiful Subhanallah, Allahuakbar, May Allah (swt) continue to spread peace and beauty, Ameen. The rest of the day was spent driving until we arrived in DC. I forgot to mention that we spent about 15 minutes taking photos for Henry’s Instagram. It honestly works though because he likes good photos and being in them for his Instagram account. Meanwhile, I like taking the photos and being behind the camera. I like to be able to direct the person in the photo in order to make it the best photo, and to capture the most amount of beauty in one photo.

  • A note on this:
    • As I read the last portion of this note I realize the slight sarcastic or sassy remark with which I describe taking photos for my brother. In all honesty though, instead of focusing on the fact that I might’ve been a teensy tiny bit annoyed of taking my brother’s photos, the reality is that I had fun! Who knows though, maybe things are just rosier the longer time passes. I am thankful to note that the Sakeenah from today is hopefully far less judgemental of her brother and what he does compared to the Sakeenah of 2018. I think I had not let go of the fact that my brother was growing into his own person, and that version was not necessarily going to be someone I agreed with on everything. But learning to respect who he is, Exactly as he is, without the desire to want to change him, was a lesson that brought me so much more relief, and a lesson worth learning.

July 2nd, 2018- Day 3 of Trip

Today’s morning was filled with a peaceful calm that comes with a full house, good food, and beautiful sunlight. Lena read a book on the newly made takhat (that Azlan uncle made), the elders told us stories about India. I played with the cats and they are so adorable and bring so much joy. I went out with Dan uncle, Amir mamoo, and Henry, just to the local pharmacy, but it was nice to get out of the house. All 4 of us along with Lena then played an intense game of “Overcooked.” I felt a little ignored every now then as I was teased a little but it was such a petty thing. Tbh I don’t know how to react when people make fun of you. Do you get defensive and argue back? Do you just accept it? Do you laugh it off? At this point, I just awkwardly say sorry and then the person feels bad. I know the best way is to come up with some snyde, witty remark or retort to give back but I just cannot think of anything.

If anything, my verbage/ use of language is much more flowery than it is quick-witted. Anyways, I have dedicated too much space to a petty thing such as this.

Next, we all went to the boardwalk/National Harbor. The views were breathtaking! I think “the capital wheel” is the tallest ferris wheel I’ve ever been on! It was wonderful. (I remember this. We were standing in the summer heat of the night, and when we went up in the Ferris Wheel we could see all of DC before us, glittering in the glory of highway lights and head lights.) We also ate at a seafood place where I got to hear about Lena’s dorming situation and connect. We got ice cream and took photos.

  • What I can’t forget:
    • The look of the street lights on the water and how they glimmered and shined upon the black moving surface (aka the water lol).

July 7th, 2018- Saturday, Trip Back Home

Today we are on our way back from the D.C. trip. Alhamdulillah, Allah swt truly never deprives us because He really put barakah in this trip. Everyone got along, we felt closer to each other, and most importantly, I feel like I got closer to Allah (swt) from it. (Excuse the handwriting, I am in a car). My “Sophia” auntie, I noticed, is very punctual with her prayers, subhanallah. Not just fajr, but every salah she makes sure to make it a priority, and she never misses fajr from what I can see. May Allah (swt) continue to put barakah in her salah. Ameen.

Anywho, seeing that made me realize, I want need to get better at making my salah a priority. I think another reason her salah is so well (I would now have replaced this word with “impeccable”)is because of how good she is to her parents. She serves them and is obedient and I see how Azlan uncle gives his duas for her. So I want to make my salah a priority and treat my parents (BOTH) with the utmost respect and obedience. I realize it will be hard because of my ego, but no victory came about without a fight. So I will give it my best and inshallah, Allah (swt) can help me with the rest.

I later made a little diagram that I called the OPP Project (face palm lol you adorable little 21 year old Sakeenah you) in order to be more patient and obedient to my parents. I will save myself from the mild embarrassment of having to write out the little diagram and just the project in general LOL. But I thought in the spirit of honoring authenticity and preservation, I should at least mention that I wrote it. Mention my embarrassing little thoughts, alas.

7/7/2018- Saturday, Trip Back Home (A Separate Post)

Today I saw a beautiful valley with homes and these large, overpowering, and tall hills/mountains surrounding the valley. The mountains were blanketed with trees and the background was a clear blue sky. Allahuakbar, subhanallah, how glorious is Allah (swt).

The End. 🙂

————————————

It’s interesting reading this 3 years later and looking at my thought patterns. If I’m being honest, I wish I could say I have “changed soo much” 3 years later, but unfortunately I think I am still the same. Some people say its a sign of a soft heart but on the other side it could just be a sign of weakness- (that I don’t know how to return with a sassy remark when people try to make fun of me.) And then other times its not either of those and I’m just super sensitive.

As I reflect now though, I can say, it is difficult for someone who has been gas-lighted by her father all her life to discern when I am just “being too sensitive” or when the anger and hurt that I am feeling is worthy and validated, or aka not too petty.

Of course, I’m told by my therapist that your feelings can never be invalidated so that’s a whole ‘nother story.

In either case, I wanted to record this to remember the DC trip. Plus I liked a lot of the wording I used to described the landscapes of Pennsylvania in these pieces. I hope you can enjoy whatever wisdom (or lack thereof) my 21 year old self could share! 🙂

Below are a few photos from the trip. In looking over them I realized I forgot a lot! Like the seafood place for Amir’s birthday, and the boat trip with Nani and Nanaba, and the restaurant at the business park where I first tried Poke at, and it was delicious.

📚Descriptive Details: The Opening to My First Possible Fiction Book? 👀👀🤷🏽‍♀️

On By sakeenahtahirIn Descriptive Details, UncategorizedLeave a comment

📚

(Descriptive Details is a post series on my blog in which I write little tid bits of short stories. In some ways it helps me practice my descriptive writing but in other ways it’s really just plain fun😉)

So I found a lil story draft intro that I wrote a little while ago. Here it is….

It was a dry and cold morning. The kind that nipped the air and made your nose red and frozen, but warm enough that the rest of your body could stay warm. Salamah sat in bed wrapped in a dozen blankets, attempting to conserve any body heat she could retain. “This is ridiculous” she thought to herself. “Just get up and go find a heater ya doofus. It’s not like you’re some homeless guy on the street in the middle of a polar vortex!” She turned over on her back so she could look at her vaulted ceiling. “I wonder how one would go about painting something like that” she thought. “Also, does the attic just have a weird pointy line running across the floor where this ceiling is?” she thought to herself again.

Salamah thought to herself a lot. She wondered about the world around her with a level of curiosity very few could adequately match. She asked questions about anything and everything, which unfortunately came to the annoyance of others eventually, so she learned not to ask too many questions aloud.

*Knock knock* Good morning my darling! How did you sleep? In walked her happy, smiley, sunshiney, mother Asra. Salamah smiled. There was a time during her angsty teenage years where that cheery and blithe personality would have set off a series of eye rolls and mumbles under her breath, as she would drag her feet to the bathroom. But today was not teenage angsty Salamah anymore. In fact, that was almost 7 years ago. Salamah was now 23 years old and what a world of a difference 23 was from 17.

“Good morning Omma!” (word for mother in Korean). I slept well alhamdulillah!” Salamah said with a smile. There was someting remarkable about her mother’s smile and morning comments that always brightened her day.

“Well I was thinking of making some omelets this morning, did you want some?” her mother remarked.

Salamah’s eyes opened wide, shining, as if someone had drawn 2 cartoon stars inside them. She really loved omelets , and especially her mother’s. As a “hybrid-latchkey” sort of kid, she valued any moment she could taste her mother’s own cooking as opposed to frozen meals or ramen noodles. Her mother chuckled seeing her daughter’s face and said “Well I guess I will take that as a yes!” Meet you downstairs?” And with that she walked out of the room, leaving Salamah back with her thoughts again, in the relentless, unforgiving, frigid room she called her own.