this is how we learn

from cup half empty to cup half full to overflow

Never thought I’d write about the time we got stuck on an island in western Kenya; Held hostage by the afternoon rains while the scheduled modes of transport were at specific set times. When it began to rain, I thought things had eased up. From what, you might ask? Well, a friend I had travelled with at the time got involved in an intense altercation with their friends, which unearthed some of their long-buried trauma.

Paralysed by the intensity of the argument and the harsh words exchanged, I couldn’t help but wonder about the emotional toll it was taking on both of them. The situation intensified despite my friend pointing out that they were not in a position to fully have the conversation, especially in the manner it was presented to them, with harshness. All of us were grieving. Just a few hours earlier, we attended a burial. My then friend asked, ‘When is it okay to connect with others if we’re all struggling with past trauma, especially mutually inflicted trauma? Are we expected to always embody our best selves in the middle of suffering?

That question really stuck with me. Musing upon it with the love we shared and the need for healing spaces. Spaces that we can collectively gather ourselves and our being to commune in healing, in the most honest and loving of ways. Unbinding in softness, in vulnerability and our rawest expressions. In that space, I felt like the anchor between both conflicting parties. They’d ask me for my opinion regarding the matters they raised, and I would give my honest feedback at the time, but still encourage more grace from the participants as they worked to resolve the conflict. The interaction had its shortcomings, part of which left a scar in my psyche.

How do we learn to process hurt?
How do we learn to process feelings?
How do we learn to process healing?

I began an introspective journey a few months after our friendship came to an end. The events of that day on the island became traumatic for us and led to the gradual ending of our friendship. It was a difficult thing to process, and it greatly affected our interpersonal connection. The detrimental aspects of our friendship formed the inception of my shadow period. A period of retreating from society to be with myself, process my hurt, grieve and hopefully heal.

During the isolation period, I employed Shadow work as an examination of my internal environment (my heart, mind, spirit) and what it communicates to me based on interactions I have with others (the external environment).

Gemini(Google’s AI model) defines it as follows: “Shadow work is a therapeutic approach that delves into the hidden, often negative aspects of one’s personality, like trauma or resentment. This concept, originally introduced by psychologist Carl Jung, aims to bring these concealed emotions to the surface for conscious examination and healing.

When we sit with ourselves and analyse our feelings, we can then trace where they stem from. Honesty plays an important role in our chosen forms of expression. Acknowledging the hurt I felt and potentially the patterns of emotional abuse and neglect helped me process my feelings of insecurity.

A few years have passed. I have fostered new connections with new people, and slowly, I have realised the unhealed parts of my being that require attention. The period of grief had a huge toll on me, having lost a connection with someone I felt so connected with, for the first time in a long time.

The ending of that friendship began a wave of anxious attachment with the people I deeply connected with emotionally, from friends to romantic lovers. It revealed how neglected one can feel when all you ever wanted was to repair a friendship, regardless of who was at fault. I neither received a response to the texts I sent nor the calls I made. It was pure neglect. I was in despair, clutching at straws. The memory of that period of detachment became ingrained in the fabric of my being.

After recently undergoing surgery, all the work I had done to attain a somewhat secure attachment style in my relationships became challenged. The physical healing process was a test of patience, of my individuality, of the presence of community and support system, of my routines and the possibility of adjusting to the recovery phase. It was a challenge. I became severely anxious in my relationships and needed constant reassurance.

My human design chart reveals that I am a manifesting generator. I thrive when I am physically active, while mostly tapping into my creative forms of expression. The recovery phase post-surgery requires rest, lots of it. I was mostly in my bed. Sleep was the only form of rest I knew of ever since my day job shaped my routine. Saturdays were reserved for sleep, while Sundays were for a weekly reset ritual. On Sundays, I prepared for a new week by washing my hair, burning some incense and moving slowly.

Moving from a routine of constant motion involving work and occasionally dancing at events towards the end of the week, to lying in bed for weeks, felt like a mental quicksand. I was left reaching out for the hand of my loved ones to pull me out. Social media easily became my second & third space, the first one being my house. I was getting overwhelmed coming across the documentation of the crimes against humanity in real time. Lives lost in Congo, Sudan, Palestine and recently my maternal home, Tanzania. All my burdens were bestowed upon me by the weight of the world.

I began noticing unhealthy patterns stemming from hurt from my past relationships being unearthed in real time. My internal environment and my external environment were in desolation, an attack on my sense of emotional safety. I began feeling ultra needful. Fuelled by an insatiable yearning for the void within me to be filled by my loved ones’ affection, my cup was half empty. My sleep routine and appetite became consistently unsuitable, therefore affecting my mental health. That’s when I realised that there’s something that needs to change. I needed to come back to myself, or as Msaki sang, I needed to “fetch my life”.

I made the resolution to stick to a routine, sleeping early; my bedtime is set to 10:00 pm. I have prepared rituals to help me sleep on time. I have my dinner early in the evening, I journal my raw thoughts and feelings before bed, stretch, and refill my water bottle with water for when I arise in the morning. My phone stays away from me. I place it far from reach; screen facing down, to sever the portal into infinite distraction and from the temptations of the blue light. It works! This is a lesson on setting boundaries with myself and honouring them. This will make me a better lover.

I am grateful for the gift of love in my community. My family, my partner, my friends and colleagues have held me through the recovery process post-surgery. I have also regained confidence in myself, and I’m gently working on attaining security from within when interacting with my people. I am starting to refill my cup with love, trust, care and gentleness, unbinding in gratitude, even for the smallest of things that often get overlooked. I am grateful for the gift of life and the willingness to evolve through each season.

When we sit and examine the patterns in our lives and trace their origins, only then can we heal. We cannot heal what we haven’t examined its intricacies from within our being, and how it presents on the outside. May we commune in healing, healing starts with self, and our community helps us affirm the work that we do. As we face each other, we can only see what’s behind the ones facing us, whereas we can’t see behind ourselves, the blind spot will always be there. Therefore, emphasising communal healing.

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Through this season, I have listened to music. One album by a Tanzanian musician, Humphrey Mubba, has affirmed to me the importance of observation, in both seeing and active listening, as well as the strength of communal care.

Indulge — TIME Humphrey Mubba

I have also enjoyed watching Scavengers Reign. The episodes were quite informative and holistically indulging.