This is an impromptu post as I’ve been forced to rest after taking a shower whilst being unmedicated for PoTS (big oops). With that in mind, this post will be heavily ladened with the foggiest of brain fog. It’s not planned and I am typing as the thoughts come.
I’m sure most people find that they compare themselves to others, and I am not immune to this. I draw comparisons to those who are of a similar age to me and are doing what I wish I could. My memory momentarily lapses and I forget how heavy the past 7 years of my life have been. It’s suddenly blank and I accuse myself of idling, being dispassionate and lazy. It’s as if the past few years of my life are a huge empty space. I try to imagine what others experience and learn between the ages of 19 and 26, but my imagination fails me. I’ll never have those experiences, that time has passed.
That time has passed. And it wasn’t empty. I say my memory momentarily lapses but in truth, it’s difficult to fully comprehend everything that has happened. I remember that I’m unwell and that I have been disabled since the age of 19 and cut myself some slack. Then I distract myself, until the next time.
So, what has happened in the past 7 years, if I really forced myself to think about it (maybe this is me trying to break the cycle)? My whole worldview completely changed. Also, prior to April 2015, I was a brown Muslim woman – I suddenly became a disabled brown Muslim woman. My use of labels here isn’t necessarily how I view myself but how the world views, or pigeonholes, me. How I view myself, maybe more importantly, changed and is constantly evolving.
It’s evolving, meaning there is susbtance to the past few years that has informed how I view myself. My mind immediately turns to the multiple forms of loss and grief, and the loneliness and distance when experiencing it all. But there’s also community – collective mourning, uplifting and support, that help to prevent feeling overwhelmed in this moment. There’s also the few things that I have achieved – but I won’t detail them right now.
I was only diagnosed last year (with 3 conditions and 1 suspected condition – quite a lot for just a year). The impact of being diagnosed was greater than I anticipated. I thought I would be relieved to finally have something confirmed that explained my symptoms. I was relieved for a little while but it didn’t last. The diagnosis confirmed for me that my whole life, however long or short it’ll be, was going to be this. My conditions are unpredictable, misunderstood and healthcare workers are ill-informed. In a country where the healthcare system is in crisis, I am justifiably worried.
Then I remember – where I am right now and where I have been these past few years is exactly where I am supposed to be. I have my own outlook of the future, overshadowed by all my concerns and worries, but that doesn’t neccessarily mean it will happen that way. This is something I have to constantly remind myself of. My life is controlled by God – who loves me more than any person ever could. My shoulders relax and I can stop typing.
“Allah says… if he comes one span nearer to Me, I go one cubit nearer to him; and if he comes one cubit nearer to Me, I go a distance of two outstretched arms nearer to him; and if he comes to Me walking, I go to him running…”
[Bukhari, Tawhid 16, 35; Muslim, Dhikr 2, (2675), Tawba 1, (2675)]
This post has been very lightly edited, so it’s a bit messy but that’s the intention. I am sharing it for others who may relate.
The Blogging Hijabi 
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