Growing up Muslim for me meant I was comfortable with death. I knew at a young age what it was, and I even remember my first funeral. An open casket; I have yet to see a negative to this. I’m glad I experienced that. I think children can handle more than we think.

I often think about how non-religious people handle grief; I don’t think there’s a huge difference. I think we all wait for time, because time handles the intensity. It doesn’t erase the grief, but at least our hearts don’t physically hurt as often. I think the main difference is comfort, at least for certain religious groups. Not that non-religious people can’t hope to also be reunited, I just don’t think their certainty is the same.

The endings can make it worse. How they have passed. Murder and suicide are the worst. Death is bad, but murder and suicide are horrible. How can one carry on in life without being consumed with grief if a life is being taken, whether it’s by their own hand or someone else’s? When those occur, you have a million questions that’ll never be answered. Because really, all you want to know is how they felt in their last moment.

The relation can make the cause matter less, briefly at moments, because what really matters is who you’ve lost. When you lose someone who’s been a part of your life that you deemed to be important, it’s like a short film playing in your head. You start to ask yourself who has died with that person. Well, you have; at least a version of you has. Time has died with that person; at least some of your time has. Is that the never-ending cycle of grief? Some things, some people, perhaps including yourself, that you will never get back. I think of the quote that says, “grief is the price we pay for love?” It’s true. We have much to feel grateful for, but just as much to grieve over. I have to think it’s human nature to be this ungrateful, wanting more time with someone who you’ve had so many great memories with already.

You start to think of everyone who is affected, and that takes a toll on you too. Their sorrow becomes your sorrow. It all seems like a never-ending cycle of sorrow and pain. They don’t want your pity, but you remember that you have nothing else to offer. I never wanted pity, but what were people to say? You want to honor the person who’s passed, but you’re afraid you won’t do it the right way. Suddenly, there is a right way to do everything.

Handling grief is complex because it’s the most complex emotion. Grief does break you. You will not be the same after. Everything changes. Small little moments will pop up in your head every once in a while. “That’s where they used to live,” and sadness creeps in. “They died alone,” and it takes a darker twist. There are darker questions and constant triggers happening in my mind. I’m sure in yours too. Grief does that.

Maybe grief doesn’t really leave you; maybe you just need to learn how to live with it. I wish it was more like, maybe that person doesn’t really leave you, maybe you just need to live with their physical absence. I never meant to write this very sad article without providing a way to move forward, but I think if everyone had a recipe for that, it would have been known by now.

I am grateful for time well spent. I’m also envious of the version of myself taking some of the time for granted. Thinking that certain people in my life will always be there is a thought I wish I never had. Time does heal, I know, but living it is hard, and knowing it’s hard is one thing, but understanding is another.

No one will understand you; maybe they can relate. Somehow, that’s the greatest part about feeling grief – it’s so unique to what you and that person shared.

Please tell someone how you feel. There will always be a person willing to hear you out. You are never alone!

I’ve always known I was a creative person – a steadfast person. I don’t mind the looks people give me whenever they ask me what I want to do and I say acting. Don’t all of them watch movies and enjoy them? Don’t they all have a favorite movie? A favorite actress? A favorite scene?

The people of Iran and Afghanistan are, unfortunately, in such an oppressive state in multiple ways. But the one I fear is the most dangerous is the oppression of the arts. They use Islam as an excuse for every form of oppression, not knowing that the moment they walk into the mosque, the calligraphy on the walls was painted by someone passionate about the art of painting. They do not know that the person who produced the very Quran they read from is a person passionate about the art of writing.

Being a creative isn’t always about what is typically known as art – paintings, movies, theatre, dancing, and writing. Art is embedded in everything you know that makes up culture. Food is art, and food cannot be good when the hands preparing it are forced. Clothing is art, and clothes should not be worn when garment workers are dying at the hands of their government. Medicine is art, and medicine should not be consumedwhen women cannot contribute their many years of knowledge to make it safe. Art and basic necessities don’t just coexist; they intertwine.

For the diaspora, the issues are not quite the same, but they are rooted in the same main problem: survival. No matter where Pakistanis, Afghans, and Iranians are, we need to be 100% sure we can survive. The “easy” route is to listen to your parents. The “safe” route is to listen to your parents. Although they are living at the same time as you in this moment, you cannot blame them, because you understand them. However, it’s time to understand that your own needs should prevail over others need to control your life. We are the future of upholding our culture. We are more privilieged than our parents. The very same sacrifices they made for us is what makes it possible for us to fail and try again more times than they ever could. So be proud of your art and appreciate your artists

When I turned 18 or 19, I started gaining enough knowledge to understand that therapy is a valid and productive way to seek help. However, there was a sense of supremacy in me; I found myself thinking I would never need it. I thought I would never feel sad enough because I had Allah. I was praying, and I believed that as long as you pray, anxiety, depression, and sadness will never reach you. Reflecting on my mindset back then, I was essentially saying I could never be tested by Allah.

Every representation I see of sadness, depression, and anxiety just portrays a debilitating but nonetheless valid version. People who don't feel like cleaning or getting out of bed because of it. Which is a way it can affect some people.

But I noticed how many women I know who have never lived happy lives, yet never complain. They just keep going. They don’t think they have a choice. Everyone has a choice, but do women really have a choice? Do Muslim women really have a choice? Is it not expected of us to never confide in anyone else but Allah, because otherwise, people will view it as “complaining” when we should be grateful? Is it not expected that everything in the house should be in order, because if not, we are also deemed ungrateful? Everything we do or don’t do is translated into ungratefulness.

Our women lose themselves because they are so unaware of their feelings due to religious and cultural pressures. We cannot be sad because we have things to do! We cannot be sad because we have Allah! Was the Prophet not the closest to Allah, and was he never sad? Of course he was, it’s a human emotion. Piousness never equated to constant happiness in this life.

We can’t afford to be sad, so we push it away until the next hardship comes. Until the next tragedy strikes. Our mothers, some fled from war, a lot experienced violence. There was not enough time in their lives to reflect; they had things to do. And now, we have things to do.

Watching these cultural pressures being applied to me from the moment I was born made me realize we have to be more aware. We have to make time.

Depression, anxiety, and sadness are not linear. It doesn’t always look immobile. For a lot of women, they simply cannot afford to stop or break down.

Trauma rewires our brains, it will break the person you are. But you have to pick up the pieces to shape the person you want to become. We as women need to understand that you can be sad and still fix things at home. You can be sad and still go to work. Sadness doesn’t have one look. Therapy is always valid. Confiding in others can be the reason why Allah put them in your life.

You have the right to heal your emotions.