Of Sleepless Nights and Anxious Messes

It’s four in the morning. I have been in bed for four hours, now. I can’t sleep. My anxiety is approaching an all-time high, and it feels like there’s a hole inside me that’s sucking up all the air I am trying to breathe before it gets to my lungs.

I’m exhausted, but not sleepy. I want to rest and forget everything, but my brain is buzzing. The only things contaminating my mind are the memories that remind me of all the reasons my life is so hard. And unfair. And just painful.

And I realize how juvenile it sounds. It’s as if I am a fifteen-year-old drama queen. I have so much to be thankful for–I know that. I know that I have so much to be thankful for, but that doesn’t make all the terrible things more bearable, and if you don’t believe me, I will list them for you. I will let you form your own opinion, as you read on.

I have Type 1 diabetes. I am epileptic. I wear flats in the dead winter, because shoes induce seizures. My memory is slowly wasting away because of my medications. I am fat. I am not pretty. I am not particularly smart. I am aromantic and asexual in a world that does not accept asexuality as a reality. I’m being dragged in the direction of marriage, and I am too deep inside the closet to protest it at all. I am alone in this, because not one person in my life has any of these problems. Not one. It’s just me, myself, and anxiety, and I’m struggling more than I can possibly explain.

I can’t breathe. I’m losing my mind. Even the things I’ve been told my entire life that I am good at have just led me to fall flat on my face. I’m a student at NYU. I’ve got that going for me. Hurrah for plan C, since A and B failed so tremendously. I don’t really want to be a therapist. I just failed at being a journalist, tanked my chances at becoming a writer, and needed something to do with my life.

And the worst part of all of this is, I am alone in a way that I can’t possibly explain. I am an anxious, depressed mess who covers it poorly with humor and sarcasm.

And for once, I’m not just being melodramatic. I’m quite literally seizing my days away.

And to fix this, I wrote a book loosely based on these experiences in a fictional story-line. Of course, my self-esteem is far too low for me to try to publish it.

I didn’t want to keep whining on here, but I can’t seem to stop.

Hend Salah–fucking up everything since 1991.

Heart Break and Body Weight

We live in a world in which everyone is free to feel and believe whatever he or she pleases. It is the definition of free will; You can be as offensive as you want and no one has the right to force you to change your mind.

As I continue on, please keep in mind that there are very few times when I publicly (literarily) turn into an idealistic advocate of equality and other such common causes. This instance is not one of them.

In fact, I hereby dedicate this post to calling out the bitches who who push their beliefs on everyone else.

If you think thinness is beauty, good for you. Really, I respect that. I have no issue with this whatsoever.

However, it is not your god-given right to talk shit about other women simply because they do not fit this picture perfect world you’ve just so happened to imagine. You do not get to put them down or call them gross or ugly. You do not get to say that they just need to have some “self-control.”

Here are the facts. Most people (not just women) do not actually have a hand in their body type. Not only is it genetic, but also, some people actually develop serious eating addictions. It isn’t always their doing.

That is aside from the fact that some medications also have a side-effect of weight gain. Insulin, for example, increases hunger pains sometimes astronomically, which leads to a higher intake of food. The more food eaten, the more insulin taken, and a vicious cycle ensues.

Who the hell are you to pass judgments on other people’s image or body weight? Who are you to use “but” or “except” when describing the aesthetics of another person.

“She’s pretty, but…”

No. Not acceptable. I am not heatedly writing this on behalf of my personal indignation. It is not because I feel judged. I could not give less of a fuck about other people’s opinions of me, but not everyone is so lucky. Many people are truly hurting because of this, and that is what fuels my fucking fire.

People get pushed to the edge of suicide often because of other people’s words. They lose their confidence and are heart broken, just because of how others react to their body weight.

Watch your goddamn mouth.

My only advocation for everyone is to work to be healthy. Take care of your body as well as you can, not to look better, but to feel better. That’s it.

Otherwise, keep your shitty opinions about other people to yourself. Your condescending remarks do not make you look good. They make you look insecure and arrogant.

And if I hear one more of these bitches call herself fat knowing damn well that’s she nowhere near it, I will agree with them.

Time to hit up Jenny Craig, honey. The gym is calling your name.

Personal Experience is Never a Rule

I can’t bring myself to use a silly and random title, here, and that’s because this is not a matter I want anyone to make light of.

First and foremost, I am sorry. I am sorry for all of the times I said that epilepsy and diabetes are nothing. I am sorry for every time I claimed that they were just a day in the life of a person; a struggle like any other. I am sorry for not realizing that what I have is not the same as everyone else.

To anyone who is confused, I have epilepsy and Type 1 diabetes. That means that I’m prone to seizures and that my pancreas is lazy. I have had the former for about nine years, and the latter for going on two.

I have always just dealt with it. It brought me down sometimes, but it didn’t really get in the way of my life. That’s what medicine is for. I could take care of myself, and though it was a little harder than most people, I led a (nearly) normal life; save for a few limitations here and there.

I joined these diabetes and epilepsy support groups online. For diabetes, I was really uneducated about it. I knew very, very little, because I was diagnosed only a short time ago.

And after I joined, I discovered that my life is absolutely perfect compared to many others with these disorders. There are people in the hospital every other day, people falling down in public and ending up with stitches on various body parts, people who blood sugars rock out of control despite healthy eating and correct insulin dosage, people who have thirty-minute fits and much more.

Me? I can’t wear shoes sometimes and have to avoid carbs.

Boo hoo.

Don’t take this the wrong way. My life is by no means easy, and having both is kind of a struggle sometimes, but it’s not more than I can chew.

For those of you out there who are having difficulty even living day to day, I hope that one day, you will be able to take it as lightly as I do.

I try not to, I swear, but seizures are my personal exercise. How could I ever do without those night time harlem shakes?

Dammit, Hend.

Taylor Swift–Diabetic Taste (Blank Space)

Nice to meet you, where you been?
I could show you confusing things
Sugar, carbs, insulin
Saw it there and I thought
Oh my God, look at that cake
It looks like my next mistake
Diabetes is a game, wanna play?

New pump, meter and strips
I can use them for an easy read
Ain’t it funny, numbers fly
It turns out that they lied to me
But hey, let’s be friends
I’m dying to see how this meal ends
Grab your needles and a pen
I might make my blood sugar good for a weekend

Am I gonna be high forever
Or will my sugars go down one day
I’ll tell you when I finish eating
If the high is worth the pain

Pancreas is a lazy lover
But I don’t care, today
‘Cause I got a lot of carb-o-hydrates
And a bunch of weight to gain

‘Cause we’re young and we’re hungry
We’ll take injections way too far
It’ll leave us angry
And with a nasty scar
Got a long list of unstable numbers
Endo thinks I’m insane
But I’ve got a sweet tooth, baby
And this food’s too plain