The Gift of Merci

Chapter 12 - Put Yourself First

I have been so immensely stressed for the last few days that I don't have any energy left for another 'grinding' week. I fear missing out on deadlines and I fear not being able to answer a tough question from my chemistry or stats teacher. I have anxiety with public speaking but I speak a lot of times during class sessions— just to carry the loath of others.

I cry every day but I still try not to. I have lost my faith in Allah (SWT) and sometimes miss prayers. But I still try to get back to him. Praises and compliments from strangers — this is what drives me. I am an evil craving for attention and fame.

I feel the need to always compete. To compare and get jealous of other people's progress.

I feel too exhausted to function. Living with mental illness is hard. It is an endless battle between being happy and being realistic. It is plastering a fake smile on your face when all you want to do is scream. I want to ask myself today:

When was the last time I was happy? When was the last time someone went out of their way for me?

Because I deserve to be fought for; I deserve happiness. Sometimes in order to find peace, I know I have to be selfish — and my mom said, it's okay to put yourself first. I deserve so much better, and I hate that I can't see that.

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I took a deep breath as I read the words I had poured onto the paper. The raw honesty of my emotions startled me, but it also felt like a release—like unburdening the weight that had been crushing my soul. Admitting my struggles and fears made me feel vulnerable, but it was also a step towards accepting that I needed help.

I looked at the invitation to the Math competition, and for a moment, I hesitated. Was I really in the right state of mind to take on another challenge? But then, I realized that this was an opportunity to express my feelings, share my journey, and perhaps find solace in the process. 

I knew it was time to reconnect once more. I approached the prayer room with a heavy heart, but I remembered the words my mother had spoken—sometimes it's okay to put yourself first. And so, I prayed not out of obligation, but out of a genuine desire to find peace and strength. I knew I had to confront my craving for attention and fame as well. Seeking validation from strangers wasn't sustainable, and it was time to focus on my inner well-being. I sought counseling and therapy, acknowledging that living with mental illness was challenging, but I didn't have to face it alone. The therapist helped me understand my feelings and emotions, guiding me to find healthier coping mechanisms.

I also took my brothers' advice to heart about not always competing and comparing myself to others. Instead, I tried to celebrate their successes and use them as inspiration for my own growth. Healing wasn't easy, and there were days when the battle between happiness and reality seemed endless. But as I gradually uncarried the loath and sought help, I began to see glimmers of hope. I allowed myself to feel happiness in the little things—the warmth of the sun, the laughter of a friend, or the beauty of a flower.

I discovered that I was worthy of being fought for—not by others, but by myself. I deserved to be kind to myself, to prioritize my well-being, and to find the happiness that had been obscured by the weight of my struggles. Over time, I found a community of support—friends, family, and professionals—who embraced me without judgment. They reminded me that seeking help was not a sign of weakness but of strength and resilience.

I began to heal, bit by bit. I still had moments of vulnerability and doubt, but I had learned that it was okay to ask for help and to prioritize my own needs. The day of the English Essay Competition finally arrived, and I decided to participate not to win the prize or gain accolades but to share my story—the uncarrying of loath and the journey to find peace within myself. And in the process, I discovered that I was not alone. Many others, too, were struggling silently, and my words resonated with them, encouraging them to seek help and uncarry their own loath.

Living with mental illness was still a part of me, but it didn't define me. As I learned to embrace my messy, beautiful self, I found that the journey to happiness was a process—one that I was willing to undertake with courage and grace.