"Getting Yourself Back from Life" by Amna Ameer

Growing up I always thought I was different. The internal monologue inside my mind was always there. My streams of consciousness would go on loops without respite. I had the idea that as long as I was perfect, caused no trouble I could earn love. And I was only acceptable if I stuck to the instructions. Soon I was caught in a self inflicted impossible cycle of self destruction. Whenever I behaved a way or extended my emotions a certain way and I wasn't reciprocated, my life's compass would go awry. I didn't know how I was harming my own mental health by not considering I too was human and capable of making mistakes.

Because for the longest time I thought I had to stick to a code of perfectionism, least confrontation never expressing my emotions and expecting nothing from the world. But it took its toll on me. Because for any sane person this was a standard too high to fulfill.

I started falling in between the cracks of what seemed like a high pedestal of achievements but was devoid of contentment because I hadn't had the courage to forgive myself. To allow myself to have doubts, to expect love and respect from others, to have radical acceptance of my circumstances and to value myself without labels or achievements or accolades or statuses.

This was both a completely freeing and eye opening revelation.

I didn’t have to please others to be worthy of something. I could create boundaries and still be in healthy conducive relationships. I could be vocal about my struggles and then forgive myself for not showing up for myself and those who needed me. I could forgive myself for not striving for opportunities that could be life changing but were taking a mental toll on me. I didn't have to always be on top of things because it is okay to not be okay. To hit rock bottom.

I learnt that as long as I showed up for myself. My morals were in place. And I was working hard to stay afloat and earn a life of dignity.

I was enough.

I was worthy.

I deserved a place in this world.

And I had every right to live a full life, just as everyone else.

So I started countering the inner monologue and the negative thoughts that always paralysed me. On days when this seemed impossible I just held my ground, seeked help from those I trusted. And let the day pass.

And just by doing that.

Journaling one day after the other, I survived my mind.

Even when on days it seemed impossible. I stuck around.

And that made all the difference.

To make art from my pain. Giving words to my struggles. And living with myself despite what was cornering me into an abyss of despair. I found my way out through literature, words, art and simply the self reflective consciousness of what I was facing and how I was treating myself.

By years of practice and changing the narrative that I too could be loved even if I failed or if I was flawed. Or if my idea of happiness was no longer what I had thought growing up, set me free.

And with that I not only created deep connections with myself but also others who felt the same way.

I could now pick conversations above small talk and have deeper, meaningful dialogue with those struggling around me.

My own radical acceptance of myself made me perceptive to those struggling around me and enabled me to help them.

This has been a journey of self realisation and actualization. And I only wish my younger self knew I could make it this far. That this story has an ending worth reading.