An Ocean of Words, Wounds & Wisdom
When words have the power to harm and the power to heal.
Dear friend,
How are you? And how is your beautiful heart? I pray all is well in your world, I pray every day you wake up and choose yourself, and I pray that peace prevails for the whole of humanity.
Hit reply, let me know how you are and if anything is weighing on your heart that I could help with. I would love to hear from you.💛
For now though, sit back, grab a cuppa and journey with me, back in time to just over 17 years ago…
A couple of rows forward from the backseats of the coach, I sat trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, tugging at my black cape coat, smoothing down my black skinny jeans, ensuring that no part of me could be seen from the back where the mob-of-three sat.
I pretended like I didn’t care, holding my head up high and fixating myself on staring out of the window, but the truth is, I couldn’t see anything beyond the glass, distracted by the torrents swirling around within me; an ocean of pain unleashed through their words upon the shores of my soul as the three grown men, high as fuck, threw insult after insult at me or about me, despite having only met me that very same day.
I was 18 years old. I was pretty, I was smart, I was friendly and approachable and usually the life and soul of the party. Yet because my body didn’t fit their body ideals, these three men saw me as a target for the reprieval of their own inner demons and took it upon themselves to delegate themselves as my chosen tormenters for the 18-hour coach trip we were on together, from Liverpool to Amsterdam, and the 18 hours it took to get back.
The leader of the pack was a 28-year-old British Pakistani boy-man, the boyfriend of one of my closest friends at the time. The other two were his brother and his best friend. He was a self-proclaimed and proud drug dealer; yet he was a meek, feeble little man whose inner pain and loathing were evident upon first glance at his face. Every time he spat poison from his mouth in my direction, he was spitting out what was bubbling and burning away within him, for himself. Despite knowing that, even then, it hurt. It hurt a lot. It equally hurt that not one of my three friends at the time who were also on the trip, one of whom was his girlfriend, had the courage or the guts to stand up for me. After all, in many ways, silence is complicity.
But in hindsight, what hurts the most is that I didn’t stand up for myself.
Their words and their abuse on that trip was a reminder of what I had struggled with pretty much my whole life. That despite anything else I had going for me - which was, without sounding like a narc, a lot - that my body was simply not good enough. That I was not good enough. The words I had heard from others and more so, the words I heard from myself, had chip-chip-chipped away at my self-worth for so long, that I was left with fragile-strength. I thought I was strong and didn’t give a fuck, but really, their words on poison-dart arrows pierced my heart when they hit and infected my entire soul, taking weeks, months, years to recover from. And even then, never completely.
Like many women, my body image is something I have struggled with my whole life. Despite anything else going on in my life, despite outer or inner world successes, it is my body image that somehow always manages to bring me down.
I’ve come a long way since 18-year-old me, getting stronger and stronger every year, doing the work on myself, working on my fitness and nutrition and slowly building a loving and nourishing home within myself, but still, all these many years later, little reminders will pop up to remind me that I still have work to do in terms of complete self-acceptance and true self-love.
Take last month, for example.
I received a comment on one of my TikTok videos that went viral in March, where I called out the Pakistani community and humanity as a whole for allowing cycles of violence and abuse to continue. It was a call for each and every one of us to embark upon the inner journey, and do the inner work. For not one second did I contemplate how I looked when I filmed it - it was a pure flow of consciousness. I was ill, suffering from a chest infection and finding it hard to breathe, no make-up on and my hair was wild - yet the message I had to share was so much more important than all of that.
Unexpectedly, the video quickly went viral, attracting over 900 comments in 24 hours. Mostly comments of solidarity and support - yet, leaving quite a few Pakistani men disgruntled at seeing a Pakistani woman standing up and calling them out for the issues prevalent in our communities. One of these men discredited everything I had to say because I was, according to him, “a 1/10 at best”. As I write that, I’m chuckling out loud because, absurd much?😅
Yet in the moment, out of the 1000+ comments received on that video, that was the comment that when I saw pop up, I immediately deleted. Not the ones disagreeing or questioning what I had to say. Not the ones that were slyly Islamophobic and racist. I deleted the one comment from the one person who decided to comment negatively on my appearance.
Why? Why?
Because it triggered the years of externally and self-inflicted abuse that I had been subjected to over the years. A reminder of all the words that had sliced me open, cut me deeply and created wounds that were still in the process of being healed. That one comment was a stark reminder for me of just how far the impact of our words can go, taking me back to my 18-year-old self who was choking on her tears in the back of that coach because the pain of their words had broken a dam, but at the time had nowhere to go.
Words are powerful. Quite possibly the most powerful tool that we own.
Words have always been my best friends, my confidantes, my way of releasing the oceans of pain swirling within me and relieving the pressure inside.
In the words of others, I have found motherly comfort, non-judgement, unconditional acceptance and a space where I could truly be myself, lost in the world of another.
Words have also been my way of sharing the oceans of beauty floating through the galaxies within my soul; they have been the pathway to making sense of this world and all of existence; they have been the bridge between my inner and outer world, allowing for the crossing over of painfully-gained snippets of wisdom and truth.
Even if we are not writers, we have all been gifted words - spoken, written, internal, external. We all have the power and the choice to use our words in whatever way we wish.
Some of us, however, don’t seem to be aware of this choice nor of the power of our words.
Some of us are not aware that words that we spoke or wrote out of spite, hate or sheer unconsciousness or stupidity can impact someone for the rest of their life. We are not aware of how deep the wounds created by our words can cut. We are not aware that our words have the power to harm and destroy and extinguish a person’s light.
(Or perhaps I am being a little too naive because I’m sure some people are well aware and that is exactly why they choose to use the words that they do.)
At the same time, some of us are humbly unaware of how our words can heal, build, enlighten, empower and create positive change. We are not aware of how a simple kind comment, a positive exchange, an honest compliment, or an insightful, empowering article on a page can change someone’s life for the better in a matter of moments.
One of my mentors from beyond, Wayne Dyer, once said that just like an orange, when squeezed, releases orange juice, whenever life squeezes us, whatever is inside us will come out, too. Our words are the same. Whatever is inside us will find a way out.
The three boys on that coach showed just how ugly their insides were, by tormenting a stranger for 36 hours. It was no surprise for me to later learn that the leader of this pack regularly physically abused his girlfriend - again, what was on the inside, came out on the outside.
We have a responsibility to cultivate an awareness of how we use our words. We all have trauma. We all have pain. We all have things lying in closed boxes deep within us, rattling away to get our attention. But nothing gives us the right or the excuse to use our words to bring down, harm and even destroy a human being - including ourselves.
Our words can cause us and others to drown in an ocean of pain, or our words can enable and empower us and others to swim freely across a never-ending expanse of wisdom, beauty and joy.
We have the power to harm. And we have the power to heal.
Use your words wisely.
With Light, Love & Peace,
Sabah x
I am walking/jogging/running 150km from 15th May - 15th June to raise funds to provide urgent medical aid to those in Palestine. Please support me with a small donation of whatever you can give to help our suffering brothers and sisters in humanity.
Check out my latest arty YouTube video:
🖋What I’ve been writing: Honestly, nothing up until now 😥 but that’s all set to change. However, I have been posting a lot of stream-of-consciousness videos on my Instagram and TikTok. Check them out and let’s connect there too 😊
📚What I’m reading: Welcome Home by Najwa Zebian - a self-help and healing book all about creating a stable and solid foundation and home within yourself. It’s a powerful and beautiful read so far.
🎧What I’m listening to: George Orwell’s 1984 Audio Experience on Audible - flippin’ INCREDIBLE. Highly recommend!
🎶Song of the Week/Month/YEAR: Hinds Hall by Macklemore 🇵🇸
💭Quote I’m contemplating: “Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it.” ~ Albus Dumbledore (J. K. Rowling).
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You know I always thought of people who comment, in such disgusting ways, on others appearance as lower-level humans. I don’t know why. I just can’t imagine how small and narrow the mind has to be to say shit like that. To reduce another person to a body and judge it by the standards imposed by a society and then say it out loud… I mean, something’s wrong there, the intellect is not doing its job, the person is brain-dead, the person malfunctioned. So I applaud your empathy towards them.
I’m truly sorry this happened to you ❤️ so many of us, across cultures and times, experience similar ways of being reduced to a body, a body that has to fit whatever standard is prevalent and if the body-suit is not to the ‘standard’ it automatically disqualifies you as A PERSON, and everything you have to say. Isn’t it funny that you used words to bring change into the world and someone else, using words, completely dismissed the merit of your words and reduced your message to ‘i don’t like how you look so your message is stupid.’ Although everyone can use language, not everybody deserves to. I’m ranting now, so I will stop. You’re gorgeous AF by the way. Love you ❤️
Thank you, Sabah, for being so brave as to share these experiences with us. I think almost everyone will be able to relate. We all have moments of rejection or humiliation or abandonment that haunt us throughout our lives and continue to trigger us. You hold up a mirror to the world with stark vulnerability, simply because you care so much that others might find comfort in your words. And in doing so, you are truly walking the talk and harnessing the power of words - one of the strongest, sharpest tools in your arsenal of wonders. <3