cor ad cor loquitur

where heart speaks to heart

Crying is good for the soul — November 6, 2015

Crying is good for the soul

I’ve been feeling pretty down lately, and there are reasons as to why I feel that way. During exam time, which is currently going on in full swing, everything that’s emotional or stressful that I’ve been hiding in the back of my mind decides to burst forward. Is it the most optimal time for this to happen? No it’s definitely not. I don’t want to cry and I always try to prevent exams from getting to me, but everything piles onto my shoulders until I reach that breaking point. That breaking point happened yesterday.

So this summer, a lot of things have happened to me. My 20 year old cousin passed away. I went to Pakistan. I thought I would spend my life with someone who I genuinely liked, only to have reality strike and say that no that’s not possible. And then once the semester started in August, the stress piled up even more. Then there were problems with my parents and problems with my family. And so that piled up on top of everything else. (Now I understand that other people have it waaay worse, but everyone has a different level of stress tolerance. My stress tolerance is relatively high, but yesterday everything just piled on top and I was just done and sobbing.)

This time I decided to take another approach to my stress relief. Usually, in times of high stress, I tend to go on a Tumblr vent/rant or post on this blog in very vague terms. Yesterday, however, I decided to stand in front of a mirror and talk to my own reflection. It sounds insane, but before I knew the more I talked about my problems, the more I felt that burning sensation in my eyes until I was full on crying and sobbing.

I was able to be raw and open with myself, and that was comfortable for once. It felt better because actually dictating what bothered me got my emotions to come forward. Simply typing up a blog post just makes me feel better that at least I wrote out about my problems, but they’re still there in the back of my mind. It doesn’t do anything to make me feel better. Talking to my reflection, as insane as it sounds, made it seem like there was someone there to listen to me. So when I tricked my brain into believing that, the tears naturally started flowing.

I feel better and now I know how to cope with all the mental and emotional stress that builds up from being in pharmacy school. Stress is a natural part of life, but if you can’t do anything to reduce the stress levels, then you slowly just die from the inside until you’re just a reflection of your former self. I saw that change in myself. Letting the stress pile up made me more bitter, angry, and less patient with people around me. I feel much better today. Maybe one day I will stop talking to my reflection and verbalize my feelings to a friend, SO, or my parents. But until then, this shall suffice.

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The one that matters — October 8, 2015

The one that matters

Here’s some free-writing based on real moments. Hope you enjoy. Also, hi, it’s been a while. I’ve been so busy with school. 2 more years of pharmacy school to go!

I wish you would smile more and appreciate the fact you were blessed with a wonderful life by the One and Only. When I see you smile at events like graduation, I feel happy because that’s a genuine smile. But I know you are severely depressed. But life is a gift from God. I wish you’d prefer staying alive than dying. What hurts the most is when you talk about wanting to die. Life is temporary, that I know, but life is also a gift.

I wish you would appreciate everything about life. The fact that you do have a wonderful family with a wonderful husband and wonderful kids. That’s all that should matter. You should love the fact that you live away from the horrors that plague your home country. Yes, I know your family lives there. But do they actually care about you? Tell me one time they actually cared about you. When you’re with your other family, you have no say in important decisions. That’s probably why you feel the way you do.

I know life is hard for you. That’s why I always pray that you are happy. If living here does not make you happy, then you can go away. I know you prefer the other country. If you think they truly care for you and you will genuinely be happy, then you can go. I have accepted that fact that living away from you is fine if that is the key to your happiness. Sorry, we don’t like the other country, but if you like it, be happy and feel free to move there. I just want you to be happy because you have truly had the hardest life.

I am sorry for everything. You’ve had the hardest life. I don’t want you to wish that life ended for you. I want you to appreciate everything about your life, but focus more on the good. I want to see you happy during every occasion. I want those tears to be tears of happiness and not tears of sorrow. I am so sorry for everything you’ve been through in life, even the things I haven’t done. Someone needs to tell you how important you are, and to me, you are the most important person I know. You are my bestest friend. I love you so much, and I want everything in life to go perfectly for you..

Yours truly.

I know this is sad, but this was a way for me to vent my feelings. A lot of personal things have been happening in life, and while I won’t share too much, this vague post hopefully explains some things. It certainly did feel like a burden has been lifted from my shoulders. Till next time, stay happy always.

Medora Lipsticks Review — August 27, 2015

Medora Lipsticks Review

This is something new I wanted to try out. I know this blog mainly serves the purpose of venting and sharing my thoughts, but I also wanted to do reviews of certain products that I buy or share OOTDs. This is the first post that’s beauty/fashion related. Please let me know on what could be better in future reviews.

When I went to Pakistan, the one thing I really wanted besides the amazing food was a Medora lipstick. Medora has been around for such a long time. My mother received Medora lipsticks as part of her “beauty box” during her wedding. I saw reviews of Medora lipsticks online and thought they were wonderful. Being 21, I am just starting to get into the habit of wearing lipsticks. Now that my face has matured lipstick doesn’t make me look like a 12 year old playing dress up anymore haha.

In total, I bought 4 Medora lipsticks from a store near my nani’s house called Hydri Super Market. Each lipstick was 99 rupees, which roughly equates to about 99 cents! This means I got 4 amazing lipsticks in less than $5.

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While each box says “matte lipstick”, not all the shades are matte. The ones I bought were matte, but there was this one color that had flecks of glitter in it, but the lady at the counter was still saying it’s matte. I absolutely hate shimmer lipsticks, so I stuck on strictly matte rule. The four shades I bought were Demure, Hint of Pink, Coffee, and Rose Berry (see below).

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I love all four shades, but my favorite color has got to be Coffee. It looks so good on my skintone. It’s very similar to MAC’s Chili, but it’s slightly lighter with a more brownish tone. It’s a gorgeous shade of red. I like having dark lips, but I’m not entirely comfortable sporting bold shades. These lipsticks are perfect because I can add on or just apply one coat of lipstick and call it a day.

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The above picture is taken without flash. The shades (from left to right) are Hint of Pink, Demure, Rose Berry, and Coffee. They look different swatched on my hand, but when I wear them on my lips, it’s a completely different color. I think that’s due to the fact that my lips are naturally dark and pigmented. Another thing that’s great about these lipsticks is the fact that they work with Desi skintones. The biggest problem I have hear in America when buying lipsticks is finding a color with the right undertones to match and look good on my skin tone. It’s really hard to find lipsticks formulated to work well with yellow undertones, but these Medora ones are perfect.

These are all single coats. You can see how pigmented these lipsticks are. The only color I haven’t worn is Hint of Pink. My least favorite color is Demure because it looks like a weird bubblegum pink on my lips. Another problem I had was that one of the lipsticks was actually broken, so I had to go and exchange it. I don’t know if that’s common with Medora, but it’s the first time that’s ever happened to me with lipstick.

NOTE: I know I should show how these lipsticks look on my actual lips. I did intend to, but my camera battery died. I will try my best to show those swatches later, but no promises.

I wish I could have bought the entire collection they had at Hydri Super Market, but sadly I limited myself to only four. I also had a limited amount of money that night, so I had to divide it amongst the other things I bought from there.

TLDR;

Pros: Highly pigmented, works well with skin, stays on for at least 6 hours (that’s the longest I’ve worn it), inexpensive!!

Cons: Very strong waxy smell, packaging could use improvement, not creamy so need to wear chapstick underneath

Overall Rating:  4.5/5 stars

stars photo cred: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b9/4.5_stars.svg

This was my first review, so please let me know in the comments what I did well and didn’t do well. I would love to hear feedback. Until then, au revoir. 

Pakistan 2015 — August 21, 2015

Pakistan 2015

I have so many things to say about our trip to Pakistan this time. It was a whirlwind to say the least. Before I begin, there are some things I purchased from Pakistan which I wanted to write a review on (fragrances, lipsticks, etc). The problem is I decided against creating a new blog dedicated to fashion and the like. Well, long story short, I’m going to use this blog for more than just life updates. Anyway on to our Pakistan trip!

Our plane landed around iftar time. By the time we got done with immigration and got our luggage, it was exactly iftar time. The funniest thing was walking out of the airport and having our glasses immediately fog up due to the heat and humidity outside. We called my uncle to ask him where he was since no one was there to pick us up. Turns out they were all in the car. From the airport, our luggage went to my dadi’s house, and we went with my cousin to my aunt and uncle’s house since their daughter passed away the month before. Visiting their house left me feeling uneasy. It felt so empty without my cousin; she was so young and beautiful, but Allah takes away the ones near and dear to his heart soon. My aunt and parents were sobbing uncontrollably, and I just didn’t know what to do.

Coincidentally, the same night was chand raat. This meant Eid was the next day. Everyone was getting ready for Eid by going to beauty salons to get their mehndi, eyebrows, arms, etc done. There I was, going from house to house with my parents. From our tai ammi’s house, we went to my dadi’s house. Four of my dad’s brothers live there with their families, so we could easily meet everyone. We went to meet my cousins and uncle; their mother (and his wife) had passed away last October. More uncontrollable sobbing. This first day was very awkward for both me and my brother; it had been three years since we’d seen our family, so we didn’t even know what to do or say to them.

On Eid, we went over to my nani’s house and met with my mom’s brothers and their families. I refuse to talk about one of her brothers and his family. Nani and nana gave us Eidi, so did mamu and mami. Everyone kept giving us Eidi, it was great. My tai ammi held a fatiha on Eid day for her daughter, so after nani and nana’s house we spent the entire day there. At tai ammi’s house, I met tai ammi’s side of the family which included her sister, her sister in law, and her mother. They were all so warm and welcoming. I am so touched by the way they treated us. Her sister became my friend in a way. We were both laying down after a long, tiring Eid and just talking about stuff. Tai ammi’s mother was adorable. One of my older cousins (the jokester from here on out) kept joking around with my brother and me. He’s like “I’m going to talk to Eabad in English alone so that no one hears my terrible English.” Omg he was such a riot. Eid in Pakistan was wonderful and lovely. It was made even better due to the fact that we spent Eid with family. I wish it were possible to celebrate Eid in Pakistan every year.

The rest of our trip was a mix of shopping and visiting family. I stayed in my dadi’s house (for one day), nani’s house (majority), and tai ammi’s house (two days). We also attended a total of three weddings which was exhausting– one valima, one mehndi and barat, one nikkah. My uncle’s friend’s valima was held in a banquet hall (newly made full A/C halls in Pakistan). My second cousin’s mehndi and baraat were great, but I couldn’t see properly half the time since my contacts were with my tai ammi. The most important festivity though was my older cousin’s nikkah. He’s the oldest out of all our cousins on our dad’s side, and now he’s finally married. May Allah bless you and bhabhi with a happily married life.

The most important thing I got out of this trip was the nature of people. Yes, there are members of my family whom I refuse to talk to and want nothing to do with. There are members of my family who I can tolerate enough to pleasantly chat with them. And then there are members of my family who I absolutely love and would do anything for. These past few years the only reason I hated Pakistan was because I thought that the love present among our relationships had vanished. But that’s not the case. Only some people have forgotten the value of such relationships, but those who still love us and welcome us exist also. I should focus my time and effort into maintaining those relationships. If someone doesn’t want to talk to me or greet me properly, then screw them. There are other members of the family who love me and cherish the moments we spend together.

I can safely say, without regret, that I won’t mind going back to Pakistan. There are people I truly love back there, and I would do anything for them. I can safely say that I miss Pakistan and my family.

The foundations of faith — June 22, 2015

The foundations of faith

I just got done crying my heart out…literally. I was writing another blog post, but it was to personal to post so now it’s just sitting in my drafts.

I had a heartfelt conversation with my friend today during our “study session.” These study sessions always end up with us talking about random things. Today, it was our annoying relatives back home. I kinda just ended up spilling my heart out to her, but the best thing was she just sat there and listened. That’s what I needed the most anyway. I needed someone who would genuinely listen to my problems, maybe throw in a comment here and there. She did exactly that. She listened, empathized, and just commented occasionally. It felt really good to let off steam. But I went off a tangent again.

I wanted to write about my faith in Allah, the Arabic word for God. I could have said God, but I like clearing misconceptions people have about things.

I’ve had so many moments where I just cry before bed. They’re usually preceded by something depressing or upsetting. Every time I have that emotional breakdown, I tend to have a conversation with God. I pray to God explaining to Him, explain to Him, and ask for Him to make it better.

There was a time in eighth grade when I felt alone. I felt like I had no friends, and the friends that I did have were fake. I would cry a lot during that year. Every time I cried, I asked God for a best friend. A few years later God gave me exactly what I wanted. I wouldn’t trade my baes for anything. My college friends are also a part of this blessing.

I used to fight with my mom a lot. There came a point where I thought she hated me. I thought she hated the fact that I was born. I thought she wished that my brother was her only child. Every time I cried after our fights, I told Him how I was fed up. I asked Him to make our relationship better. Sure enough, He did. My mom compliments the littlest things now. She expresses her joy during my tiny accomplishments. Receiving that motherly love without the pain and anguish makes me happy.

Does this mean my life is perfect? No, my life is far from that. Does that mean I blame God for the small problems I have? No, the small problems are materialistic. Who cares if I don’t have enough money for the most expensive shoes and car? What matters the most is that I’m happy. I’m content with the smallest things in life.

In Islam we have a belief that pretty much says that each person receives a test from God. The test assesses faith. Each person receives the test in a different form. For example, there are poverty stricken people in Pakistan who have a rather strong faith in Allah. If you ask them about their financial situation, they’ll reply they’re content because at least they have life and maybe food and water. They’re the sweetest people you meet, and they will shower you with blessings, the best present of all.

Yes, there are some things I pray for and don’t get. But that doesn’t mean God didn’t hear me. That just means deep down inside I didn’t really want them.

Why Desis should start taking mental health seriously — June 11, 2015

Why Desis should start taking mental health seriously

The second you mention something along the lines of depression, anxiety, psychiatric, bipolar, etc (you get the point), Desi people lose their shit (excuse my language). These are actual things I’ve heard from Desi people in regards to mental health:

  • Are you calling my daughter/son psycho?
  • Psycho hogai hai (She’s become psycho)
  • Mera beta pagal nahi hai (My son is not crazy)
  • Tumhe kyun depression hai (why do you have depression?)

As you can see, mental health, in Desi culture, is never associated with something positive. People often view such mentions as threats to their pride and image. In Muslim households, parents attribute poor mental health as a sign of not being spiritual enough. “Oh you just need to pray more and be closer to Allah,” they say. But what they do not know is that in those low moments, during those darkest hours, the only being we have to turn towards is Allah. And so we pray and pray that just maybe, for once and for all, please God, cure me from this terrible disease. Since there is such a stigma associated with mental health and depression and even a mention of the word will lead to a loud “PSYCHOOOOOOO,” Desi youth never get the necessary professional help they so desperately need.

This despicable attitude towards mental health needs to stop. Mental health is a serious issue, and if Desi youth don’t have their parents to turn to when times are rough, then who will they ask for help?

Deepika Padukone, a famous celebrity in India, recently came out and told everyone about her depression. She also mentioned that people would often remark to her, “you’re so famous and rich, why would you be depressed?” (or something along the lines). That’s just the thing. Why are we equating a successful life to that of a life of happiness? You can have everything in the world, but you can still feel empty inside. You can have that smile plastered on your face, but you can still be stuck in the deepest pit. You can try to pull yourself up from it, but there will also be that lingering creature that holds you back.

India has the highest rates of depression compared to anywhere in the world. It also has one of the highest rates of suicide. Pakistan is not far behind, either. Out of the numbers of doctors that graduate from medical school, only about “0.002 [become] psychiatrists [and] 0.07 [become] psychologists (SOURCE).” That totals to about 340 psychologists in the entire country (SOURCE). The entire nation of Pakistan only has an alarming five hospitals dedicated to mental health. Overall, only 0.40% of health expenditures are spent on mental health facilities.

If you think about, South Asian teens are faced with multitudes of stress. If you’re a girl, it’s the fear of getting married off to a young age, or the fear of not getting married at all due to ridiculously high dowry demands. If you’re a boy, it’s finding a good job, so that you can take care of your family. Even if you’re foreign raised, you may not necessarily have as much stress concerning marriage, but you still have to worry about being getting good grades, going to a good college, and getting a decent job– all to make your parent’s sacrifice worth it. Who cares if you’re truly passionate about art and music? No, you major in biology, chemistry, engineering, business, etc: anything that will get you the dough after you graduate.

Youth in Pakistan face even more stress. We may think our lives are hard, but remember that shooting at the army school in Peshawar? Oh you bet those kids were scarred for life. Can you imagine the emotional trauma they suffered seeing their own teacher being burned alive in front of their eyes? Are they going to get access to mental health facilities? Or will society also call them psycho (EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH SHIT)?

Or how about those kids who constantly witness drones attacking their homes or their neighbors’ homes? They see their mother, father, and grandparents fall victim to these drones. Are you going to say they’re psycho also?

Mental health is a real issue. Now I know most of the scenarios I mentioned above may not affect everyone, but still bullying is prevalent throughout the world. I still remember being called fat, ugly, a bitch, disgusting etc in middle school. I still remember my culture being mocked by my peers. Those scars won’t ever disappear; they will always be a part of me.

So to anyone who mocks mental health and denies someone the care they need, DON’T. Act now before it’s too late. Depression leads to devastating consequences. Let go of your ignorance and just act. You don’t want to wake up one day only to see your child has resorted to cutting themselves.

Some notables: One| two| three

Summer goals — May 9, 2015

Summer goals

Yo whaddup blog readers?! Finals week was over a week ago, so I’ve had a week of chilling and sleeping and relaxing. Actually, immediately after my last final, we (as in my friends and me) went to watch the AVENGERS: AGE OF ULTRON. AND OMFG THAT WAS WONDERFUL! I’m going to watch it again tomorrow with da familia, so if y’all want a review hit me up (lulz, never gonna get a reply on that). Oh I’ve been watching a lot of Gossip Girl lately. I decided to watch some TV shows for the summer before I go off to a rendezvous in Pakistan in July. And let me just tell you, GG is great. There’s something great about watching the elite dance and party with no care in the world, but then hidden beneath are all the troubles of the world.

Besides watching shows, I have a lot to accomplish this summer. This includes hot bod, more writing, career plans, etc. Writing is something I definitely want to focus on this summer. I’ve been thinking of couplets and phrases in my free time, but they haven’t prospered to something great just yet. I just want to spend some time with a pen and a piece of paper and write away. So many ideas, so little time, so few words. Better get to it then.

This was just an update post. More posts to come soon. Still working on that fashion blog don’t worry.

Just an update (yet again) — April 4, 2015

Just an update (yet again)

Yooo, so if you ever visit my blog via URL and don’t just read the posts that show up on your reader, you might notice some changes in the layout and format of this blog. That’s right, I ditched the ballons theme, and I am now going with a more subtle and polished theme. I quite like the new theme, what do you guys think? (she says to the crickets)

I’m thinking about starting a fashion blog, but the thing is my style is literally just pants, T-shirt (sometimes fancy blouse), shoes, and cardigan; then walk right out the door. I don’t know if it would be that great of a fashion blog honestly. I never really wear dresses or skirts or other things of the like. But I’ve always wanted to have a fashion blog because I ABSOLUTELY LOVE fashion (and shoes, especially shoes).

Thing is, I tend to go shopping with my mom, who likes to mention that I am buying way too many shoes or clothes and that I need to stop. Actually, deep down, I sometimes feel that way also. I guess I have that minimalist sort of nature where I don’t want too much, just enough to get by. But then I love reading fashion blogs and seeing the lovely outfits people come up with and I’m like WHY NOT ME.

I also don’t think I have the body for fashion blogs. But that would be revolutionary though wouldn’t it? A fashion blog run by someone who’s not the ideal body type. (I am not body shaming) It would certainly give me more confidence about my body and all the quirks that come with it. No, but actually though, knocked knees make me very self conscious. I can’t even walk properly because of them. FML.

I already have my fashion blog name reserved on WordPress lol, just need to start it. The semester is slowly winding down, so who knows maybe I’ll have time to properly fashion blog. I can also put that fancy camera to test. It’s kinda just been sitting there for three years; kinda sad honestly. I used to be so into photography and writing, but now that I’m in pharmacy school all I think about is healthcare and science. I subconsciously write patients instead of people and then I have to change it back.

Three more years left of pharmacy school (P2, P3, and P4). Hopefully these years will fly by. I am trying to put myself out there and be more comfortable with everyone, but I’m slowly becoming my former self. I am not as confident as I think; physically, my body is changing. It’s not the -40 lbs that it once was; it’s more like the -10 lbs slowly creeping back up to 0 change. I wish I didn’t care about physical appearance as much because then I could be more confident, but like I said growing up as a fat kid does things to you.

Okay, my laptop was literally going strong with like 2% battery left, but now it’s yelling at me to charge it. Literally at 0% battery. I am adventurous.

Till then, bonne journée.

Growing up as a fat kid — February 15, 2015

Growing up as a fat kid

Lately, I’ve been feeling a plethora of things. In order to avoid talking about some really personal things (which trust me I wrote a whole blog post on a very very personal aspect of my life, but decided not to post it because it involved people other than myself), I want to talk about how growing up as a “fat kid” affected me. As an aside, I’m only going to use the phrase “fat kid” in this blog post, but in real life I try to avoid saying fat. There is a negative connotation associated with it, and I have experienced the repercussions of that phrase quite often.

Up until about age 7, I was actually relatively thin. I used to be extremely skinny. In fact, I remember once when I was 7, my neighbor said she weighed something like 60 pounds, and she was younger than me, but much taller than me. I only weighed about 45 pounds. The fact that I was older and weighed less just didn’t feel right to me at that age. Boy, was I wrong. After that I started binging, and I ate so many Doritos and started gaining weight. I was in second grade when one of my dresses didn’t fit me anymore. It was too tight. Since then, I was fat.

People don’t realize how growing up as a fat kid affects your mentality. It causes depression, low self-esteem, and body dysmorphia. This Buzzfeed video really illustrates how growing up fat affected me. It wasn’t so much growing up fat that affected my mentality. Rather, it was the constant remarks by friends, family members, boys I liked, and gym teachers that really made me suffer from low self-esteem.

I would never tell a boy I liked that I liked him/had a crush on him. But I would very often tell my friends that, and they would go on to tell that boy the same secret they promised to never tell. I guess I should have been hurt that my friends betrayed me and broke their promise. But what hurt me the most was the fact that the boys who I crushed on wouldn’t like me because I was fat. Also, the fact that I was Pakistani, had darker skin, darker hair, and different features also deemed me unwantable. But see, this stuff only happened up until about age 13. After that, I simply stopped telling my friends which boys I liked because I could never trust them again. Now, at age 20 almost 21, I have the mentality that if a boy doesn’t like me solely judged on appearance, then eff that, he isn’t even worth it. I’m hot by my own standards and that’s all that matters to me. Love yourself before anyone loves you.

Whenever I went shopping for clothes, I would hate having to try on clothes and not having them fit. I was an average height girl, but in terms of width and circumference, I wasn’t average. I would often have to buy clothes that were size 14/16 even though I was only 10 years old. Sometimes, I’d have to hit up the women’s section of stores and buy clothes that I used to call “old lady clothes.” Jeans wouldn’t fit. When I bought jeans, they’d be size 13/14, but because I was average height, they’d be really long. I’d always have awkward looking clothes. Let’s just say fashion was a disaster back then.

Since we’re talking about clothes, let’s talk about Pakistani clothes. Anytime I needed to get shalwar kameez stitched for me, the tailors would make fun of the fact that at age 14, my waist is 39 and hips are 42. They’d ask if they were making dresses for a middle aged woman. I remember one instance particularly well. My aunt, who has now passed away, was a seamstress; she was going to make a dress for me for her daughter’s wedding. We couldn’t even attend the wedding, so I suspect it was just a way to suck up to us. But she said that there wasn’t enough fabric to properly make the lengha suit for me. Then she went around and told everyone that my proportions and measurements were similar to hers. But they weren’t. I suspect that ill-fitting clothes and rude tailors have a lot to do with my hate for all things shopping (except shoes).

Any remarks by people concerning my weight and appearance made me feel upset. These, in particular, contributed to my low self-esteem. People would always tell me “Oh Komal, you’d be so gorgeous if you weren’t that fat” or something along the lines. Why was my beauty something that my fatness concealed? Because of that, I can never truly feel pretty. I may think I’m gorgeous sometimes, but deep down I will never feel that gorgeous.

Every word, comment, and remark affected me. Each remark pierced my heart. There were times when I wished that I would get so sick that I would lose 40 pounds in a month. Can you believe it? I wanted to get that sick that I wanted to completely destroy my body. I never suffered from anorexia or bulimia. I know people have it worse, but that doesn’t mean growing up as a fat kid didn’t affect me. It still affects me, even though I am nowhere near the weight I used to be. I still don’t think of myself as skinny or hot. I still hate shopping because I’m afraid that I will once again have to go up a size.

Your words can affect a person more than you can imagine. You may think you’re helping someone by saying they’ll look prettier if they lose weight, but in reality, you diminish whatever self-esteem they had. You get rid of their confidence. I was lucky enough to not go to extreme ends, but someone else may end up becoming anorexic. Someone else may take on a more devastating approach. It’s 2015; accept everyone’s body regardless of size.

New year, better me — January 4, 2015

New year, better me

I was actually going to title this post “New year, new me,” but then I was like that’s way too cliche, so I changed it up a bit. I am fully aware that we are three days into the new year, but still this post needs to be written (well it’s not necessary, but to me it is). 2014 has been gone for three days, and 2015 is just three days old.

Let’s start off with an overview of how 2014 was for me. Honestly, 2014 was not the best year for me because a lot of major incidents happened that weren’t too great. The year started off with my grandmother passing away. Spring semester of 2014 was absolute crap. Summer was just work, work, work, with a few beach visits. Eid was okay. Ramadan was great (I prayed a lot, but there a few fasts that I had to miss because we just didn’t wake up for sehri and also lady problems). Eid-ul-Adha was terrible because then my aunt passed away, leaving three daughters behind, two of which are still teenagers. November came and I got into an accident the day before Thanksgiving. Family friend’s valima was so fun, though I should’ve danced more because yolo. Dad also had cardiac cath with angioplasty this same month that was preceded by a heart attack the night before (90% artery blockage wtf, as a pharmacy student I was like ohhh learning oppurtunity. But as a daughter, I was internally crying). Got into an accident in December again on the way back home from work (evening shift). By that point, I was so ready for the new year.

(Side note: one thing I’ve noticed is that odd-numbered years are so much better for me, but I’m not really superstitious– or is it number-stitious. 2012, for example, was great for me.)

For 2015, I’ve obviously made some New Year’s resolutions. Some are cliche, others aren’t. I’ll list them and explain as I go along. YAAAAY. (Note: not in any particular order of importance)

  1. Become a better, less toxic person. I’ve spent my whole life envying people and comparing myself to them be it my cousins or a random stranger. I put others down (in private, never publicly) in order to make myself feel better. This needs to stop. I’ll be turning 21 this year, and I want to let go of all of these immature actions. Putting others down doesn’t make me feel better about myself; it just makes me a shitty person. I don’t care if that’s what’s been done to me in the past, but I shouldn’t vent my past frustrations this way. I’m becoming a more friendly and less bitter person this year.
  2. Lose weight and eat healthier. I lost a crapton of weight (45 lbs), but gained like 15 of those back, so yeah I need to get fit. I want more muscle tone, and less fat. Also I want that number on the scale to go down to a more healthy range.
  3. Learn to cook. I’ve been wary of this because I thought that once I learned how to cook, I’d be expected to cook for the rest of my life. But honestly, that’s not the case. It’s something I should know how to do because who knows where I’ll be in the next three years. Plus, my parents are both awesome chefs, so I must strive to be that great. (This is also the only way I can control how healthy my meals are. I know, I’m selfish, but it’s also going to be better for my dad and family.)
  4. Start praying more frequently. Allah had been so good to me, and I don’t do enough for him. I don’t thank him enough and I barely ever pray. Therefore, as gratitude and for my own spiritual well-being, I’m going to start praying.
  5. Be more social. Yeah, I don’t like people in general. I have the worst social anxiety, but I’m becoming confident and comfortable now. I’m going to be more social with people because honestly it just sucks being alone during club meetings (of clubs your friends aren’t a part of).
  6. Reconnect and re-establish those broken relationships. See number 1. One of the reasons I broke off these old relationships was because of my inner child and the bitterness. But I want that to go away. I’m trying to be a positive person, so it’s necessary to start acting mature and re-estalishing those relationships I broke off during my fury.

Very vague explanations for some of them, I know. Also, my sentence structure is totally not on point lately. Maybe I should make learn grammar like a pro (aka my grammar nazi high school self) one of my New Year’s resolutions hhahahaha.

I hope you all have a blessed and wonderful 2015. There are many days left in this year, make sure to make them worth it. Till then, stay classy.