angryjalebi

[angryjalebi]

“ur so chill” thanks i am completely disconnected from reality right now

[angryjalebi]

omg

Rusty-spotted cat | World’s smallest cat

[angryjalebi]

can i politely murder you

[angryjalebi]

[angryjalebi]

Some nights are a struggle...

... and tonight is one of those nights.

I can't sleep. I've watched the room turn from black to blue and even the subtle change in hues won't ease me into calm. The birds are singing, something I usually find beautiful, however today it's a bit like sandpaper to my ears. I'm not even in my own bed. I toyed with the idea that maybe I'm homesick, but that doesn't make sense because my home is where my sickness blooms to be honest. The thought of home makes my bones feel stiff. And they're already fucking stiff. I kinda feel like I don't belong anywhere. Physically or mentally. I feel like no part of me belongs here and I'm scared. I've cried a lot tonight. I want to be held. I want to be comforted. But those things only make me numb and sometimes angry. I want to be loved but I don't want to be loved. I don't know what I want. I think, right now, I just want the questions to stop. I want to fucking rest.

[angryjalebi]

I'm some type of way

I don't know how I feel about this gif. It reminds me of a time in my life when my anxiety was a lot more physical. I experienced it a lot in my hands. In the middle of my palm and in my wrists, it felt like my veins were being tied in the tightest little knots and it was sharp, painful. That's when I knew I was anxious about something. I'd get that familiar, horrible feeling in my hands and it was my cue to do what I did best back then. Avoid.

That's why I don't know how to feel. On one hand, it feels slightly triggering to see this image because it reminds me of that feeling. But it also makes me realise that I don't get that feeling in my hands anymore. And I don't know if that's progress, because my anxiety started to manifest in other ways, but it feels like it might be, just because it doesn't happen anymore. One down, you know?

These past two months have been hard. I mean, this past year has been a difficult one, but the last two months in particular have been rough. I'm always up and down, bouncing from one extreme feeling to another, but I can sense when it's different and this time it is. I can feel myself slipping into an unfamiliar (yet somehow slightly familiar) state of mind. I'm confused all the time. Tired all the time. Sad all the time. Overwhelmed all the time. I feel so many things yet I feel nothing at all, all at once. I don't have any hope. I don't think I'm capable of being truly happy or satisfied in this life. I feel loss. I feel a deep sadness for myself, for the little girl I was because she went through pain for nothing because I don't have the strength to do her justice. I feel like I wasted her life. Like if she could see a glimpse of the future and into my mind, she wouldn't see the point in carrying on because it never really got better. I'm suffering. I've always been suffering. And I think I always will.

I want to hug her. I want to tell her I'm sorry for not being happy.

[angryjalebi]

now THIS i can get on board with

[angryjalebi]

[angryjalebi]

Rambles and shit

God, I am tired. I’m tired of my brain and the way it overworks itself in the most simple situations. I’m tired of the way my thoughts debilitate me, rendering me unable to get through my daily routine. It’s strange to me that people’s perception of who I am is so different to how I feel inside. A lot of the time, I am just fucking terrified. I’m scrambling for words, grabbing at flickering thoughts and trying to calm my anxiety down before it comes tumbling out of my mouth for another big reveal. It’s so difficult to find a “sweet middle” for myself. When I’m living a chill life, doing the same mundane things everyday, I feel a little at peace but there’s always that nagging feeling of emptiness, like I could be doing more. Achieving more. But then when I’m moving at high speeds, running simultaneous projects I still feel empty, even though I’m getting what I wanted. My life is always at two extremes and I can’t find the calm centre where peace and anxiousness dance around each other in a complicated, yet flowing harmony. I am just so tired of my ridiculously overdramatic brain and the power it has over me.

[angryjalebi]

[angryjalebi]

Friend: why are you crying?

Me: I'm just so beautiful

[angryjalebi]

Anxiety: An Abusive Relationship with my Mind

For a long time I felt choked by my secret anxiety. 

It sat lodged in my throat, and every time I opened my mouth to reveal it, no words came out. I chalked it up to nerves. I thought everyone felt the way I felt and that, like me, they were fucking great at hiding it. We were a silent clan of anxiety warriors and nobody would ever know. But as I grew older my anxieties grew with me, and even when I stopped growing they continued to evolve. 

Suddenly my body couldn’t contain them anymore. The anxious moments turned into anxious weeks and months, the trembling hands turned into full body shakes as if I held an earthquake inside me, controlled hyperventilating before a presentation turned into curling up under the sheets and wanting to die because I had to make a phone call that month. 

Every day, my mood would rise like a tide and then come crashing down moments later, the waves swallowing me whole. Drowning me. 

The anxiety had spread from a small hole in the back of my mind to every nerve and cell in my body. It sat back in my brain and put it’s feet up. It enclosed it’s stiff hands around my heart and laced it’s fingers through my ribcage, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. Everything became a battle. 

Getting out of bed in the morning. 

Forcing myself to eat something. 

Lifting my head at the bathroom sink. 

Going to work and pretending my chest wasn’t caving in. 

My anxiety convinces me I’m incapable of ever being happy and loved, and it whispers in my ear that everything is always my fault even when it’s not. The saddest thing is, I don’t know who I am without my anxiety. When I wake up feeling good, I’m struck with a nagging feeling of emptiness not long after. 

I don’t know how to explain anxiety to someone who has never had it. Not in a way that would make them really get it. The only way I can accurately describe it is that it’s like being in an abusive relationship with my own mind. Anxiety’s harsh words cut into my skin like a knife and it leaves bruises where no one can see them. 

Everyone hates you. 

You’re pointless. 

You can’t do anything right. 

You should just die. 

The trick is it speaks in first person, making me think I believe those things — that those thoughts are mine so they’re true. And the whole time this is happening, I’m holding it together and functioning, just like everybody else. I’m getting on with shit, just like everybody else. I’m cheerful when I bump into you on the street. Just. Like. Every. Body. Else. 

Because I have no choice. 

Because my abuser is weak. 

My anxiety is weak.

But I’m not. 

[angryjalebi]

Meet the Blogger

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

name: Saima

eye color: Brown

hair style/color: Medium, wavy, dark brown with a red tint

height: 5ft6″

clothing style: Hoodies, tees, high-waist skinny jeans, boots. All black everything.

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

your fears: Losing control. Being vulnerable in front of people. My future. The unexpected.

your guilty pleasure: I like what I like. No guilt.

ambitions for the future: I just want to feel content. 

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

your first thoughts waking up: Here we go.

what you think about most: How terrified I am to do the thing.

what you think about before bed: Why things aren’t different.

you think your best quality is: My open mind.

single or group dates: Both, for sure. Depends on the company.

to be loved or respected: Loved. Always.

beauty or brains: Both appeal to me.

dogs or cats: Again, both. Very different creatures.

lie: Yes.

believe in yourself: Most of the time.

believe in love: Yes.

want someone: No one specific, but yes. Someone.

LAYER SIX: EVER?

been on stage: Yes, to do speeches and collect awards.

done drugs: Um

changed who you were to fit in: I used to. But now I’m happy to be myself in all situations.

LAYER SEVEN: FAVOURITES

favourite colour: I like them all at different times.

favourite animal: Fuckin’ cats, yo.

favourite movie: Dumb & Dumber, for sure.

favourite game: Basketball?

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

day your next birthday will be: I can’t be bothered to check.

how old will you be: 27.

does age matter: Yeah kinda.

Meet the Blogger

[angryjalebi]

These past few months have been ridiculously busy -- I’ve barely had space to breathe let alone function. Funny thing is, my recent experience of creating safe spaces for POC and/or Muslims to express themselves and connect with each other has been so therapeutic to me. I love the beautiful souls I’ve met on this journey, but at the same time I’ve had no time to show myself any compassion or love. And that’s just as important. I dunno. I just wanted to share that. I’ve been doing cool things, guys. I’ve never been in a room full of POC/Muslims where they’ve felt comfortable enough to perform spoken word about taboo subjects like sex, relationships, identity etc. There’s so much stubbornness in our communities and within our cultural spaces to brush things under the carpet and judge each other, and so being in a room full of Muslims and feeling like I don’t have to prove my relationship with Islam because of certain things was refreshing. This is what Islam is really about. Love. Hope. Supporting each other.

[angryjalebi]

mood.

[angryjalebi]

[angryjalebi]

Women who are beyond done with all of this shit.

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