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We live in a society in which opinions, options, and information are proliferating everywhere, and ambivalence is on the rise. Which of these 15 brands of toothpaste do I prefer and why? Facebook turns on analogue emotions into binary oppositions: you either “like” something or you don’t. Self help books command us to be happy. Just the other day, a good friend of mine came running to me tormented by his own ambivalence. He loves both his girlfriends with all his heart. The questions are;is it possible to love two people equally at the same time? or love and hate someone or something at the same time? When you are of two minds about something, how do you “negotiate” between them? Is ambivalence awesome or is it awful? In these times that I don’t know what I want; perhaps I don’t want what I know and want what I don’t know. We are the ambivalents; unable to see both sides of the arguments, frozen in no-mans-land between armies of true believers, no ballot allows you to vote for competing candidates, no questionnaire in which you can just tick the box. So we avoid the question or check “I don’t know”, or grit our teeth and pick a side.

A member of the uncertainty lab noted that our metaphors for ambivalence are rooted in our body: we say, on the one hand, on the other hand.” And we “feel torn” before taking a stand. The trouble is, the human mind hates uncertainty and protests the dissonance that arises when two seemingly opposed thoughts or feelings that exist at once.

The world is an overstimulating, potentially overwhelming place n our brains are designed to filter, reduce and simplify. But when it is our own internal experience, our brains are attempting to simplify and we put ourselves at emotional risk.

Personally I’d prefer that my ultimate decision, come from my highest noblest self. But at the same time I don’t want to make a choice that could lead to feeling deprived, exploited or unfulfilled. In such situations, even though the inevitable post-decision ambivalence can never be 100% resolved, it is usually mostly resolved through the well known phenomenon of cognitive dissonance.

Cognitive Dissonance (CD) plays a major role in value judgments, decisions, and evaluations. Becoming aware of how conflicting beliefs impact decision making process is a great way to improve your ability to make faster and more accurate choices. It is a matter of determining and perhaps more from the heart than the head which deserve to be given high priority; or weighted more heavily. Any personally satisfying conclusion must offer the individual the best possible affirmation of self.

*Ambivalence: The state of having mixed feelings or contradictory ideas about something or someone.

*Cognitive Dissonance: In the field of psychology, cognitive dissonance is the experience of psychological stress that occurs when a person holds two or more contradictory beliefs, ideas, values, or participates in an action that goes against one of these three.

Well, here’s the long due review. As I started reading the book, I already knew I did not want it to end so I resorted to reading only a few pages a day so that it may last as long as possible. I couldn’t help but remember my friend who jokes about how unfair it can be when the rate of consumption is faster than the rate of production. She says how can one prepare food for three hours only for it to be eaten in five minutes? How can one strive the whole month to earn money only for it to be spent in a week? How can one take a whole year to write a book only for one to read it overnight? So I hoped in taking a long time to read it I would have done some little justice to the long time it took to write it.

I like it when a book is divided into parts that are related to each other whereby each part seems to complement the other parts. This reminds me of the book When Breath Becomes Air which is divided into two parts. Part 1:  in perfect health I begin describes the author’s life before he was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer and part 2: cease not till death describes his life after the diagnosis. I do not know whether it is because I like poems or the titles truly did sound poetic but it gave me the impression that part two is a completion of part one just like the phrase cease not till death completes the phrase in perfect health I begin. I got the same feeling as I read the parts of this book. I saw the chapters as a journey with one part leading onto the next. We start with an aching soul but through pondering, it came to believe. By pondering over Allah’s creation, it came to believe in Allah; by pondering on its blessings and capabilities, it came to believe in its self and its abilities; by pondering about how other people survived struggles that were similar to my own struggles and how the survivors were willing to help others, I came to believe in the power of humanity. And after believing, the soul was finally able to love; to love its Creator, to love itself, and to love the creation. At least that is how I saw the chapters to complete each other.

Many a times I read a page and I felt as if the thoughts were taken right out of my brain. I related deeply to a lot of parts and it felt amazing and shocking at the same to know that someone else out there was having similar thoughts. I stuck page markers on the pages that resonated with me most and I ran out of them and I had to resort to folding the top of pages despite not wanting to distort the book in any way because I felt protective of it.

As I read some parts, I felt that the words were coming from a very deep place. I wondered whether it was easy for the writer to write them down. Because for me, I find it very difficult to put my innermost thoughts on paper for fear that other people might read them and get an access into my mind. A mind which has some thoughts I hold too dear that I find sharing them will make them lose their value. I have a fear that letting people know what transpires in my brain will make me vulnerable and exposed. I fear I might lose the privacy that I reverently cherish. This is something that was holding me back from writing and I’m still working on overcoming it. I wonder whether the writer has a similar hesitance when it comes to writing about innermost feelings or whether it’s not a challenge for her.

The hallmark of it all was that the book was signed for me despite the writer not really knowing me.  And I keep on going back to the message to remind myself to keep striving. Talking of the idea of striving, it reminds me of another concept that I adore. The concept of Ihsaan. The concept of doing everything that one does to their best of abilities, in the best way and form possible. If you knew me personally you’d know that I keep on stressing about it. I find striving to be part of Ihsaan since it entails working towards being the best version of oneself.

This is one of the few paperbacks that I own and I think I’ll keep on revisiting it time and again until the cherished lines are committed to memory. I want to read it so many times that the pages threaten to fade from overuse. And I don’t think I’m willing to lend it to anyone because I intend to keep it as a personal journal, jotting down my thought on the bottom of the pages. So if I manage to get one interested in the book, they have to get their own copy! The least I could do is market the book right?

To get your copy, contact: 0704 731 560. The book can be sent as a parcel to wherever you are!

***

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I see you. I see you stare hard into your mirror till your reflection blurs. I see you follow the green veins protruding on your arm till they disappear somewhere just before your elbow. I see the sadness in your eyes. The deep, deep sadness in your eyes.

There’s this saying that goes like, “The Eyes are the window to your soul”. I believe this saying was meant for you. Because your eyes, your eyes have seen what most never have. Your eyes are a world of its own.

I see you wear your heart on your sleeves every morning as you walk out into the perfect storm. You do this every single day. Tirelessly. Repeatedly. And in the evening, you come back with your heart worn off. Filled with scratches, tears and slits from all the beasts you encounter in the wilderness. I see you sit on the cold floor, hugging yourself in between tears, slowly caressing your wounds. You lick them till the redness fades away. And you go to sleep, scared to death, with a heavy heart, really really overwhelmed brain…yet, the next day, I see you do it all over again; wear your tattered heart like it is brand new again. Into the wilderness. Into the storm. With a beautiful smile on your face. To fight like you’ve never done before. To absorb all the emotions you encounter; the pain, the misery, the joy and the love. Oh! the love!

I truly believe that you’re really brave; no exaggerations I promise. I believe that it takes a really huge heart, a very resilient human to be just what you naturally are.

I watch you. I watch you lay down the stones, leading the way to the ocean. I watch you welcome every Jane, Julia and Jessica to view the spectacular scenery. The serene ocean. The beautiful sunset. The standing-tall palm trees. I watch as they step on the stones you just laid down, sinking them into the wet sand. I watch you as everyone leaves. As everyone hurts you.

I see you open up your chest widely apart, at the middle of the road, for everyone to see what’s inside you; daring people to come closer, touch your brokenness. I see you speak your truth, honestly, maybe too honestly, it numbs those around you. I see you hand out love like free Christmas gifts as everyone stares on. I see you cry, heart-wrenching sort of cry, the is-she-crazy sort of cry.

They think you’re like a broken tap; emotions oozing out of you like a river. ‘Aint those a little too much?’ they ask.
‘Shouldn’t you be a little bit stronger?’

I watch you crumble as people stare at you. As people question your sanity. As people call you weak.

You should hold it back.
Trim down the honesty.
Reveal only a very tiny bit of yourself.
My God! DO NOT LOVE HARD LIKE THAT!!!
You need to build that wall within you.
Who cares about being raw anyway?!
Bring down those emotions a notch.
Why do you allow yourself to care that much?!
How do you expect people not to hurt you when you let them in too deep?

I watch you as people make you question, ‘what is wrong with me?’

I watch you fight the battle within you. That only you will ever see. I watch you shower happiness into people, like you never needed it. I watch you over-pour yourself into people’s cups. I watch you care. I watch you extend the goodness in you to those around you. I watch you love like there’s no tomorrow. I watch you touch souls. I watch you attend to others’ wounds. I watch you empathize. Change lives. Make it better for everyone. I watch you soldier on, despite all they say and do to you. I watch you adapt and learn. I watch you feel. I watch you open up to the world like a flower, ready to bloom. I watch you take the risk, every single day, to be your true self. To own up to your mistakes. To reach out to others. To be genuine. Authentic. Raw. And brave, very very brave.

I don’t care what they say, I believe vulnerability is not a defect.

I see you.

Image Courtesy: Salma Abdulatif

Look at those overflowing emotions. What does one do with a heart like that?
Lubnah AbdulHalim
~The Striving Soul

I’ve loved words for as long as I can remember. I’ve dived in libraries, drowned myself in piles and piles highlighting every bit that speaks to me. Turned to poetry and mastered every line that touched me. Listened to great speeches and jotted down the parts that moved me. That’s what happens when you’re a hopelessly inept person struggling vehemently to properly express yourself. When you know what to say but do not know how to.

It’s not often a book captures the entirety of the human condition; warts and all. On survival. Mental health. How it can get from 0-100 real quick. On life and the meaning of it all. Trying to see sense in a world that doesn’t make any and enjoying that confusion. On loneliness and how it’s not similar to being alone. The struggles with the feeling of ever being enough and whether your work will amount to something. Whether you’ll amount to anything. But more than anything, a book about faith, silver linings and that no matter what… “we got this.” Ladies and gentlemen, as rare as they occur; a gem; The Striving Soul.

The Striving Soul is a book by the extremely hardworking, extremely gifted Lubnah AbdulHalim A.K.A Strokes of my Pen. I promise, her skill with the quill is undeniable. The book is a thought-provoking emotional rollercoaster providing us glimpses into the soul of a highly sensitive anxious overthinker (Her own words). It’s real, it’s raw and it’s beautiful. If you think yourself hard as ice, this is the book that will melt you. I could keep on marching these chorus lines of clichés but it wouldn’t actually touch even the tiniest bit on how emotion-packed and impactful this book is. It’s a different experience all on its own. And will leave you wondering, how much depth can one tiny person have?

And when I say an emotional rollercoaster, I actually mean that. The beginning bits are mostly soul-punching, finding you in the pits of despair hovered by dark stormy clouds. And it journeys you through the crawl to the top at which you get to see your life with fresh eyes. With optimism. Her idealism kind of rubs on you as she sucks you into her world where; …humanity is divine and love is eternal. Where mountains of pain erupt yet the breeze of solace interrupts. Where understanding is a rule and reading between the lines is an art. Ask me and I’ll introduce you to my world; where poverty is a blessing compared to the cruelty around. Where laughter and smiling heal a broken heart. Where souls pray from dawn to dusk and find piece in the smallest things. Ask me and I will introduce you to my world; where darkness and light never meet. Where you and I will never be apart.
What a world to be in?

The main take-away for me was “choose you.” No matter what. And that being you is the secret sauce to creating magic in this world. So:

Let us do what is no longer ordinary. Let us be ourselves.

Image Courtesy: Salma Abdulatif

For more information on the book, you can contact the following number: 0704 731 560

You can get your copy at the following places:

Mombasa:  IOU centre, also known as MLC centre.

Chetna Restaurant, 2nd floor. Along Haile Sellasie Road. Ahead of Oil Libya petrol Station and just before Royal Court Hotel.

Contacts: 0770 136 463/0770 630 997

Open from Monday to Saturday: 8:00 a.m. – 5:00 p.m.

Nairobi: from Ahmed: 0718232852 

For parcels to other areas of the country contact: 0704 731 560

You are standing by the window, watching the raindrops hit your windowpane before touching the ground. The rain is rhythmic; you love its predictability, unlike your life. Your life needs a Sherlock Holmes to solve the unending mystery. Every other day, you seem to have a surprise stored for you. It makes you wonder whether you are a guinea pig of a social experiment. Perhaps some scientists just want to find out how much can a human being handle when in distress. You can almost hear their voices on the opposite side of the windowpane. They are using a lot of scientific jargon and psychological terms as they scrutinize you. You don’t really understand what they are saying but you know you are the subject of interest. Perhaps if this experiment and the theory works, you’ll become rich from what they’ll pay you. A happy guinea pig. You smile then sigh.

From afar, you hear your neighbour sobbing. There is a lot of commotion and shouting going on. Her husband is beating her up. Your heart aches a little more. Then you sigh again. Life is miserable, you think. They had been married for ten years; happy and blessed with six children. Then he re-married and boom! everything shattered. It wasn’t the re-marrying that brought the problems per se, it was the attitude towards his family. Life is scary like that. People change, love fades off, evil is real and the world is yet to end. Or you are the one who can’t wait for your own end.

Your father left your mother while you were two months old and she was critically ill. You are lucky to be here. There was a time you almost became homeless, you almost dropped out of school, you almost became malnourished, your mother almost died, YOU almost died; twice in fact. You look at the marks of the razor that went through your hand skin. You look at the scars skillfully and very carefully hidden under the famous Kenyan flag bracelet. You are lucky to be alive, with your mother and under a roof. You seem to have the nine lives of a cat or is it just life that loves you? Perhaps it is the scientists, pumping oxygen forcefully into you. They can’t lose their guinea pig.

‘I don’t want to be part of this social experiment anymore,’ you whisper to the virtual scientists. They look at you like you’re crazy. Like they want to shout on your face, ‘Do you know how much we’ve spent on you?! On this experiment?!’

You feel the burning sensation in your eyes. You force back the tears. ‘Wanaume hawalii’ (Men don’t cry) they say. You ask who? People. In the streets, the wazee in their barazas, youth on their Facebook posts. Real men don’t cry. You are tempted to ask how much tears can a man shed before he is regarded as ‘a useless man’ or even told, ‘You are no different from a woman’ Like a woman is a bad person. But you can’t ask because then, they’ll doubt your manhood.

You hear your mother groan in pain inside. It turns out she has leukemia. You’ve been jobless for the past five months. She’s been strong all along but strength at this point isn’t enough without the ridiculously expensive treatment she needs.

‘God? Can you hear me?’ You look up to the sky and gaze at it. Like you are waiting for a response from God. You and God, you have a strange relationship. Some nights, you stay up throughout, kneeling, begging, praying, crying in silence and talking to Him one on one. And sometimes, some days pass without saying a word to Him. Those days when you feel like He has abandoned you. When you feel like He doesn’t care about you. You get angry and ignore Him like a disappointed lover.

‘God, can you hear me?’ This time, you let the tears flow. It is night, no one will see your tears anyway. Your eyes have now become the Niagara falls. You had missed this. Talking to Him.

You remember this old man in your neighbourhood, he once told you, ‘Snap out of it; the self-pity. God is always there for everyone and anyone who calls out to Him.’ You slowly wipe the tears as you remember his most famous story that he narrates to you: ‘Job (Nabii Ayub A.S) didn’t die despite his severe illness. Abraham (Nabii Ibrahim) didn’t die despite being thrown into the fire.  Jonah (Nabii Yunus) didn’t die despite being swallowed by the whale. Joseph (Nabii Yusuf) didn’t die despite being thrown into the well. Jacob (Nabii Ya’qub) survived despite losing his son and his sight. And Ishmael (Nabii Ismael) survived despite the order that he is to be slaughtered. Whatever the test and turmoil you are in right now, God has a plan for you. Don’t give up on His mercy.’

You stare at the clear sky. It has stopped raining now and once again you call out, ‘God?’ Suddenly, you see a star, it twinkles. With tears in your eyes, you smile.

‘He is listening. God is listening!’

Photo Courtesy: pinterest.com

My friends and I talk about anxiety in hushed tones,
in desperate volumes,
in late night texts of hopelessness,
“You too?”
she asks as if we are a team,
like we are a bandwagon,
a secret group full of emotion jargon
like we are some sort of cult,
clutched in the hands of our feelings
that we can’t bring to a halt.
“I’m overthinking,” he says
“I’m overthinking about my overthinking,
about my edginess,
my restlessness,
my helplessness,
my breathlessness.
***sigh***
“Shhh!!” she says
they shouldn’t know
you should just lay low.
They shouldn’t notice any more
lest they call you weak
they’ll call you sensitive
an attention seeker
or perhaps an emotional speaker!
sshhh!
Conceal, don’t feel
Don’t let your joy seem so real
or show your over-flowing tears in the name of ‘I want to heal’
They don’t understand how you can laugh so whole-heartedly about a silly pun that’s not even fun,
or how you passionately cry about a video you watched on whatsapp.
They’ll say, ‘You’re too much’
like too much of anything is really poisonous.
They speak as if they know the itchiness beneath your skin
like insects having a party within.
As if they know of the noise in your head,
of the demons you carry on your back,
of the weight of the world you carry on you like you just became a truck!
No. They have no idea,
They have not a single bit of an idea of how it feels to have a super-power of feeling,
of feeling things unfelt, untouched, unseen.
They have no idea,
that’s why I keep feeling.

***Dear, you are never alone…

I still remember when I was a kid, when Palestine was really on fire. But well, when was it ever not on fire? It was during those times that the news were just about Palestine; sickening images and depressing videos. There was a world outcry. The Arab artists from different countries came together and made a video clip for them. It was around the same time when the 12 year old Muhammad Al Durrah and his dad were shot dead as shown in a very depressing video clip. It was 2000 and I was just six years old. There was the world, standing up for humanity like we should while I stood and watched. I was too young to comprehend what was happening but I just didn’t like what I saw. It broke my heart…and it made me cry a lot.

My mum once came and found me hiding at the window, behind the curtains crying. Oh I had cried a lot. I had cried like I was right there at the middle of it. I had cried like the cry baby I am…To cheer me up, my mother asked my cousin to take me for a walk. She took me to the bridge side to watch the ocean and bought me some crisps on the way. At that time, it was easy enough to forget what I had just seen and live up the sea moment. I was going to do something about it, that was my plan. I was going to grow up and make a difference. I was somehow going to make all the noise stop and bring the world to silence. I was hoping i’d be the female version of superman. But then I grew up, and reality hit me hard. There was almost nothing I was ever going to do. Not to the war torn countries, not to the fighting friends not even to my own helplessness. Back and again, i’d lock myself in the washroom and cry because two people were fighting, because someone became angry, because someone didn’t eat and my mother would be there again and again with the same words, ‘This is life…These things happen.’ So I started writing and for as long as I remember, I wrote like a possessed woman. I never had short paragraphs or small words to say. It was always going to be long and very long endless paragraphs of pain and sorrow; too much pain too much sorrow. By the time I got to high school, I knew. I knew I wasn’t going to change. I knew I couldn’t stop to feel.

I hated myself for feeling way too much because it made me seem like damaged goods, a worn out material, a shattered mirror. Simply because there is no in between for me and for us. There is nothing like moderation. It was always going to be extreme love or extreme hate. Extreme kindness or extreme evil. But it also made me appreciate a lot of things beyond. It became my super power, just like writing did. I tried to fit in only to realize it was never going to happen. It was never going to be easy for people to understand. They see you laughing like a maniac for one moment and you’d be crying like a widow the next. How you’d laugh so hard at the most stupid of things and cry so much for something so petty. No, they would never get you. And so it would always end up with, ‘she is so moody’. I curled up back into my cocoon because that is the only place you wouldn’t be misunderstood or misinterpreted. That is the only way to survive.

When war broke in Yemen and my sisters were trapped inside, I slid away. I slid away from them and from everyone. My mother would lecture me for not keeping in touch, for not being there for my sisters when they needed me. But then how do you respond when someone talks of the bombs they are hearing right as you speak? What do you tell them when you get 3 a.m. texts of them asking for prayers? I ran. I always ran away from the reality because helplessness is way too much to handle. I ran away every time I came face to face with my emotions. I ran because facing my fears would mean dealing with my inability to do absolutely ANYTHING. I ran when people attacked me, when I was being stepped on, I changed routes to not meet the beggars, I shut away when people fought. I withdrew, stayed back, retrieved myself from my soul, escaped…and thus, I became an escapist. For the longest time I asked God, ‘why was I born? What am I doing on this earth?’ Simply because being lost and helpless is just too much.

But then I found out that being overly-sensitive would make sense sometimes. When you meet people like yourself and there comes that sigh of relief, ‘I am not the only one.’ You meet understanding people who won’t call you moody because they just know how extremely you feel. You meet people who will empower you to turn that sensitivity into something enormous and courageous and brave. Yes…you meet the right people.

Every time I meet fellow cry-babies who are screaming inside because ‘no one understands me’, I remember that I am blessed with the ability to write. That it doesn’t really matter how weak people perceive you, or how they judge what you write, or how they think of you. What only matters is that you are doing what you have to, to survive.

So here I am. Feelings for sale. Anyone? Feelings, anyone??

Photo Courtesy: Unknown

“Conceal
Don’t feel.
Don’t let them know.”
~Frozen

When a boy notices his tendency to cry a lot or even be more emotional than expected then this is when Anna’s words become a consolation. You feel you are not alone in this; not alone in the hiding and burying. Not alone in the turning away from the inner you, the real you that wants to scream, that wants to cry, that wants to break down, that needs a hug or at least a pat on the shoulder. So you shut the doors and put a pillow on your face so that no one hears you silent cries. You lock yourself in loo and cry until you have no more tear for anyone to see or simply go mute on everyone. No one should know. You have to hide or else everyone will raise their eyebrows at you, “dude are you normal?”
“Are you straight?”?

The girls are usually the victims of this but for the few boys who are characterized as ‘sensitive’ then they definitely have a hard time.

As boys grow up they keep hearing it over and over again, ‘real men don’t cry’, ‘man up’ ‘be strong’ ‘be like a soldier or a lion…’ ‘Are you a girl to be a cry baby?’ But anyway who brought up this notion? This foolish theory that when a man cries he isn’t ‘real’ anymore? What does ‘real’ mean anyway? Does it mean that the boys who cry a lot or show their emotions have any less of the y chromosomes or perhaps they should freak out and see a psychologist whether they may be turning gay?? ?

I say it is foolish because I believe in a person who feels. It means they have extra ordinary power to connect with others. It means they love others honestly. It means they are strong enough to respect their inner self that is wounded. It means they are simply not allowing their ego to overtake their soul. It means that despite all the tears and feels, they are strong enough to admit that they are in pain and that pain needs to be let out. It means that although everyone expects them to be fierce and hard so as to be recognized as ‘strong’, they decided to have their own definition of ‘strong’. It means they are humane and feel for others. It means they are special.

Yes, they are definitely special. These cry babies are the ones who will make the best of husbands and fathers. As much as some women may argue that emotional men can’t protect them and would probably cry with them during tough situations instead of acting immediately, do remember that the Y chromosome in him still exists. He will protect you more than the man with an ego would ever do. He will protect you because he is true to you; because he won’t ever want you to get hurt especially because of him.
And hey man, if a woman ever mocks you over your emotional make-up then she is simply not worth it. If it is family or even friends then just over-look the criticisms. Sometimes you just need to ignore what people think about you.

These men you call cry babies are ones who will restore humanity whenever, simply because they feel extra ordinarily and with deep empathy for others. They are the ones who keep touching hearts and inspiring people. So if you one of them, please feel free to cry and break down and feel extensively. If the inner self is wounded and needs to bleed then please bleed if you need to. Don’t let your ego destroy your beautiful soul. Your tears are your power so use that power to make a difference. Do know that the best of mankind (men) were seen in tears and were known for their empathy and deep emotions. So never feel ashamed over who you are. Your soul is simply amazing and that; that should really make you proud 🙂

Photo Courtesy: https://afremov.com/

Loneliness usually creeps in at the most unexpected times like the surprise visitor who knocks at your door just as you switch off your lights to sleep. It could have a knock-knock on your little heart at the moment you are in the middle of a crowd as people cling their glasses with cheer and laughter or when you are in the arms of your spouse or even when you are eating with your friends as they tell jokes and crack up. You feel so far yet so near. You feel disconnected from the people around you. Sometimes it could be due to sudden changes in the closest people to us; how you and your spouse no longer share your deepest secrets, how your friends no longer remember your birthday, how your loved ones no longer have time to watch a movie with you or it could be simply due to the life transitions such as leaving for college, losing a partner to death or divorce, starting a new job, retiring and losing the daily company of colleagues and associates, or moving to a new town or country. Loneliness is the isolation that comes with nursing a feeling unreturned — an expectation unmet. It is the perpetual state of seeking that which you so crave, that which you so need. It is the putting of your key to happiness in someone else’ pocket.

The longer our loneliness lasts, that more challenging it can be to break the mindsets and judgments (both ours and others’) that contribute to maintaining our isolation.

When you are lonely, you tend to assume people aren’t interested in your company and that if you reach out to them they will reject you and turn you down. As a result you take little initiative and find excuses to turn down invitations when you do get them. Your negativity and reluctance to give your friends the benefit of the doubt creates a self-fulfilling prophecy in which your own reactions and avoidance pushes them away even further. Because you remain blind to your part in creating the distance, you see their withdrawal as confirmation of your fears and become even more convinced they no longer care about you.

On the other hand, being alone is quite the opposite. Loneliness and aloneness stand as the two pillars to the one, emotional pendulum. Loneliness for some, may be a chronic condition where your own company is never enough; where spending time with yourself may produce anxiety and sometimes worse symptoms such as panic attacks and depression. For many, the perceived solution to keep this fear away is to make sure that you are always in the company of another. Being alone is being totally okay when you are by yourself. Being happy watching a movie alone, walking at the beach shore as you enjoy the sunset, treating yourself to ice cream because you simply deserve it. You are alone, not because no one wants you in their life but because you simply love yourself and you are alone by choice. You are emotionally independent and you don’t mind if your best friend doesn’t text you for some days or even weeks. You can’t allow yourselves to be defined by the people you surround yourself with. You can’t allow yourself to be defined by your relationship status or your weekend plans or the screaming silence of your mobile phone.

Although alone and lonely are often thought of as being one in the same, alone doesn’t equal loneliness. Learning to be alone may be initially scary but once mastered serves as the cornerstone for your development and growth as a human being. There’s so much to be gained from learning to rely, and more importantly, to trust your own inner voice as the best source for your own guidance.

Loneliness may have deep effects and be the part-cause of mental disorders such as depression, social anxiety, addiction and hoarding. Therefore, addressing your loneliness could be the key to unleashing your healthy mind. And as much as someone may argue that all of us do feel lonely every once in a while, you just shouldn’t let it overwhelm you such that you become a victim of the above mentioned disorders.

Sometimes the best cure to loneliness is, in fact, to be alone. You may want to take baby steps first in stopping feeling lonely and starting to being alone such as going to a road trip by yourself, a swim, a movie or even simply a treat. Then gradually take greater steps like making your own life decisions, being independent, managing your own finances and taking full and complete control of your life.

Just know that, whichever you happen to be or feel at this exact moment, the power to maintain or change it will always be in your own hands — not in theirs, or in anyone else’s. Start making the necessary changes in your life and make yourself the best company for YOU.

REFERENCES:

psychologytoday.com
http://thoughtcatalog.com/