when's the last time you were truly vulnerable?

on all the questions no one will ask

collectively, as humans, we tend to forget that we are made entirely of moods. they make up our entire existence and to believe otherwise is both naive and misleading.

i, of course, am no exception.

even through my writing, i shift largely between “life is beautiful and i have time and everyone and everything is love and i get to be part of that!” to “have i ever known happiness? will i ever know love? is this all there is to my life?”

currently, i am unfortunately shifting towards the second extreme.

i have all these big feelings that are leftovers from my childhood and teenage years that come up every now and then. of course, they have their reasons to why they emerged (not me defending my demons) but nevertheless - it’s still so hard to admit they’re actually there.

it must be said: i am very proud of how i’ve grown to handle my not-so-great times. my past troubles taught me enough about how to not completely drown in the negative emotions and how to let them pass through, and i know well enough that everything passes, and that soon enough i’ll go back to my cup-half-full self.

which brings me to think of what are the things i actually need to do to get myself out of this? what is missing? i eat well, i sleep well, i exercise, i get my sunlight, i read my books, i journal, why do i still feel terrible?

the answer is equally simple as it is scary: you have to be vulnerable.

and yes, this applies to everyone, not just me.

but another question arises: why is no one vulnerable anymore? why is it so hard to say what we’re really feeling?

when we were teenagers (i’m assuming everyone reading this is in their twenties) vulnerability was so much easier. i have a theory that the reason it was so easy is because we talked about mental health issues so much it became very widespread that almost everyone is subject to not feeling okay, and almost everyone wants to help. a sense of “anyone can go through this” arose and we realized that we’re all pretty messed up at the end of the day.

if a friend texted “i need to talk” we would jump to call them instead. we were actually excited to be there for our people.

however, today, the more common topic is healing and self care and wellness…you know exactly what i’m talking about. the narrative turned less into “sometimes bad things happen to you and that’s okay” and more into “you have the power to change everything about your life! if you’re sad you probably need 10,000 steps! a cold shower will give you the reset you need to conquer EVERYTHING!!!”

if you were ever with your friends and someone started talking about their feelings and the first thing you said was “have you tried therapy?”, this is exactly the problem i’m talking about.

my theory was with that shift from a facebook post about what a panic attack looks like to the cutest reel about healing involving a workout, a healthy meal, a walk, journaling etc — we evolved into even more individualistic approaches than community and reaching out. why should a friend listen to you when you can pay a professional?

or maybe that’s just the shift from being a teenager to being a twenty-something.

the thing about shame is that it’s isolating. it makes you feel like you’re the only person on earth that’s ever felt this feeling or gone through this thing. while writing this, i am not only carrying my own big feelings, but also wondering what the people in my life are hiding that would be so much easier if they just shared it. why are we depriving ourselves of being seen? why are we limiting the people who could see us with so much caution? what’s scaring us so bad?

we’ve grown so attached to the idea of boundaries (love them, but the concept is abused) and no one will save you and it’s no one’s job to take care of you and all of that to the point where we’ve forgotten how magical it is to actually help someone and let ourselves be helped. and none of that will happen unless someone gathers the courage to ask what’s wrong, and the other gathers the courage to honestly answer.

when i was around 17, i remember a friend telling me a story about how he was out with a big group (considered the cool kids, fyi) and all of a sudden, someone said “raise your hand if you’re lonely”. everyone raised their hands. when he told me that story, even though i don’t even know these people — i felt less alone. i felt less ashamed. can you imagine how the people that were standing there actually felt? do you think they slept a little less lonelier that night?

i started writing this substack hoping to share what i’m actually feeling these days but instead found out what’s stopping me from doing so. it pains me that with a simple question, we can easily alleviate the ache we helplessly feel. if it was up to me, i would put all my demons in a box and pretend they never existed. but they do exist, and they’re a big reason of why i am who i am today: someone who truly appreciates life and people because she knows how precious they are.

so i guess if my demons have to make an appearance, it’s probably to

a. make that life-loving girl love life a little more
b. re-ignite something in me…still figuring out what
c. humble me
d. ask the people i love how they’re doing more often

if that’s the price of feeling down for a week or two (insh’allah)…doesn’t sound too bad.

yesterday, i gave a smidge of my feelings to someone i trust and i felt acknowledged and it made the pain hurt a little less, that i can’t help but wonder how i would feel if i gave myself the chance to be completely seen. until then, the sun will rise and i’ll try again. there’s no other way to live.

remember to ask your loved ones how they are. remember to be ready to help.