This is your mess

Crack open a can of soda and pour it into a glass. Watch the fizz froth up and spill out over the sides—out of control, a force of its own.

Like that, this world overflows with opinions

Good ones

Bad ones

And in-between-ones too

I find it hard to form my own perspective half the time. Every topic has dozens of different angles, points of view, and stances. It can get very noisy, and makes my thoughts feel clumsy. It affects the way I think, making every decision of mine shaded with doubt. Often, I never feel ‘a hundred percent’ with anything.

Maybe you can relate?

Do you ever get that sinking feeling in the morning when you rise before the sun? Or perhaps your stomach ties itself up in knots before breakfast, contracted and contorted, never relaxing until you finally fall asleep. Even sleeping takes its sweet time to pull you into a dream because your mind is still firing through an abundance of indecision.

Maybe there’s something to be said about it all. Perhaps those billion other opinions don’t matter.

For once, I’m pretty sure about that.

I mean, you can ignore what I’m saying too—I’m just another mind with another opinion—but here’s what I’m telling myself:

Stop asking for advice so much

Stop thinking you need to rely on the words of others to know that you’re okay being you

Turn off your phone

Switch off the laptop

Dim the lights, settle into the darkness

And be okay with it

Be okay with the abstract mess that you are, okay with jumping into your own uncertain decisions. At the end of the day there will always be a billion other souls you’ll be dying to please, but your own life is but a fleeting moment. Don’t forget that.

Doesn’t that scare you more? That they’ll read your name from a weathered gravestone and there won’t be much else to it except the moss growing over the cracks. You’ll be all alone in that dark grave, so you may as well become comfortable with who you are now. You’ve got an entire lifetime and more to spend with yourself.

So I tell myself: do the things in life that makes the knots loosen and gives you air to breathe in the morning. With the people that are just as messy and beautiful like you, all muddling along somehow, because no one really knows what they’re doing. At least we’re trying.

So here’s to the New Year

To finding the balance between being your own pillar and leaning on others too

To being okay with not being okay

To celebrating your successes, glamorous or not

Here’s to celebrating your mess




I used to keep a baking blog here, but it took up too much time and I had far too much leftover goodies than I could eat myself. I kept the blog up for the nostalgic factor, but regardless, here’s what I made for Eid this year–a carrot cake that actually turned out pretty nice (if I do say so myself). Enough to get me back into baking! (Note: I realise I need to be more conscious about what I eat, but this cake was too pretty not to post!)

This post will probably be all over the place but to be honest, that’s how I feel right now. It’s as if I’ve been dragged out of my own body and plunked me into someone else’s, someone who’s more emotional, more tired, more fed up. And every day I keep saying “this isn’t me, this just isn’t me”.

I’m reading more into hypothyroidism/underactive thyroid because I want to learn more. Because the doctor can’t tell me more than is possible in a 10 minute consultation. Because I hadn’t realised how deep this condition can go (I’m still struggling to say the word ‘illness’). The more I do it, the more emotional I feel. Even the word ‘emotional‘–makes it sound like I’m getting teary for nothing. And honestly, I was never the type of person to cry over these kinds of things.


I remember being adamant that I only cried at ‘physical pain’, not emotional. I toughed myself out. Never used to cry at films. All that sort of stuff. Sure, maybe I put it on a little, but I wasn’t a crybaby. Now, these days, I’m having to take deep breaths. Tell myself to calm down. Don’t let myself get overwhelmed.

This isn’t me!

I tell myself I should stop reading into it and just give my brain a break–but in between all those moments of my brain fogging out, I’m thinking about this condition, because it’s starting to define me.

And I am so, so worried about that. It’s like having a cold define you. Or an itchy rash. It sounds ridiculous, right? So why should I let my underactive thyroid start to become me, because it’s not. I am so much more than my health, though my health is such an important part of me.

This is a strange post, I know. I figure writing it all out will help me sort myself out to a certain extent. It’s such an unsettling feeling, not being as reliable as you used to be. Reliable to myself; forget other people. I’d like to think myself as an independent person, always have done. Solitude isn’t frightening to me–that’s the perks of being an introvert. But the importance of asking for help is something I need to work on. It’s okay to feel weak, but asking for help doesn’t make you weak. It’s not something that should be looked down upon.

It’s like I have a dimmer switch in my brain that keeps going brighter or dimmer with a single thought. One moment I’ll be struggling to pull things out of my memory; the next, I’ll be jumping from one anxious thought to another, too quick to recall what I had thought the previous moment.

It’s frustrating.