So last night I worked out pretty late. It’s a bad habit I’m trying to kick but honestly, the motivation just doesn’t seem to strike me earlier. It’s that right-before-bed adrenaline rush that makes me lace-up and work out. It was a pretty normal workout; I took a shower afterwards, hit the sack, and woke up feeling like I’d been stuffed into a spinning dryer and then hooked up to a flagpole in the Arctic.
My bones ached, my stomach felt like a bubbling cauldron (ew!), and I wasn’t walking or eating or thinking clearly. I forced myself out of bed when, horrified, I saw my clock read 1:00pm. I had about 2 hours to get myself together so I could make my shift at the animal shelter. I trudged upstairs and began complaining to my mother about how I was feeling, and she promptly made me a spinach-strawberry-pepper-banana-blackberry smoothie. The sight wasn’t exactly appetizing, and the taste was…well…I took my time drinking it, hoping the benefits would cancel out the taste.
So, I sucked it up and went to the shelter and ended up driving back home 30 minutes later, when I realized I didn’t look or feel any better than the post-surgical puppies I was walking.
I spent the rest of the day sitting in bed and running my mind through the mud over personal problems, sleeping, praying, and watching Dead Poet’s Society (O Captain, My Captain!).
Now, it’s 11:36 pm and I cannot figure out why I’m writing all of this out. I just feel badly that I need to. It’s not often that I get sick like this. SubhanAllah, I’ve had some pretty crazy diagnoses over the past few years, but very rarely have I been bedridden. The last time I was this ill was almost exactly a year ago when I was in Indonesia, and contracted some kind of sickness that made me lose 5 lbs in a matter of days. I wasn’t eating, I was in the restroom all the time, every time I fell asleep I woke up with a fever, subhanAllah. I took 11 pills a day for 6 days and slowly got back to my old self (wish those pounds stayed off, though).
I don’t really know where I’m going with this. My life has been flip flopping like pancakes in a diner, lately. And I don’t know when things will settle. I guess being sick has made me look at my life a little bit differently. What I should or shouldn’t do. How I should treat people. Knowing when to back off. Knowing when to shut up. How to take care of my body, instead of treating it like a beat up car that let’s me go from A-B.
I want to say I’m a good person. I want to say that I’m not selfish, or ignorant, or temperamental, or over-sensitive, or clingy, or emotional, or flawed, etc etc.
How I wish I could say all those things with absolute confidence, and know in my heart that they are 100% true.
I read something today that made me open my eyes up a little bit. It’s not particularly flattering, like everything else in this post, but I think it switched on a light somewhere in my cluttered head.
Self-abasement is not my goal. I do not mean to degrade myself. There just comes a point in a person’s life where looking in the mirror is no longer an option, it’s necessary. Does a person’s past give them justification to not try their hardest in the future? Does my past make me a bad person? A bad Muslim? How else do I atone? What do I do to renew myself, besides prayer? Can I get a second chance?
If Allah gives me a blessing, can that blessing be taken away if I don’t treat it well?
Where does my panic come from? Why am I consumed by it when faced with a potential loss? Is that because I love and want the world more than I love and want the afterlife?
Is there anyone else out there in my position? Hello?
Yesterday, I was talking to someone. They asked me why the doors of the future seem so closed off to me. As in, why can’t I do something about my life, why don’t I have ambition. They told me there was still time. I could go to the Caribbean, become a doctor, make money and be free of worry.
I just thought…well, that’s one option. But I really…really…really…don’t want to.
Part of me would be fine living in a one bedroom apartment, working at a cafe or library, reading books. Praying, writing. I would be so lonely, but at least I would be on my own.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I just make things work, for once?
Blah blah blah EMO, blah.
Ya Allah, You are my Lord, so give me steadfastness.
Ya Allah, You are my Lord, so give me Ihsaan.
Ya Allah, remove the love of the world from my heart.
Allahummaghfir lee, warhamnee, wahdinee, wa’aafinee, warzuqnee.
(O’Allah, forgive me, and have mercy on me, and guide me, and give me good health, and provide for me.)
Ya Allah, remove the storm that Shaitan brews in my heart.
Well, now It’s 12:06am. My bones still ache. My stomach hasn’t settled. But, alhamdulillah, I feel my eyelids getting heavy, and my heart just wants to slow and allow my body to sleep.
Let’s go with that feeling, and trust Allah that in the morning, I’ll feel better.
HasbunAllahu wa ni’mal wakeel wa’al allahi tawakalna
Allah is sufficient for us and He is our guardian and upon Allah do we rely.