No one to talk to

by Mirsaed

Batool had just turned seventeen when things started going wrong. She shrugged it off and put it down to her constant mood swings but negativity took over her life. In a letter to the Muslim Students’ Counselling Centre she wrote: “The ball of hate and anger knotted around my heart. Everything just got too much one day; my friends hated me, I hated me, the world hated me and I didn’t know how I got like this. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything; what if they thought I was being stupid? That my problems where nothing but exaggerated and I was just being some drama queen? I was convinced my friends thought I was looking for attention. I was also convinced no matter how hard I tried my friends would never understand where I was coming from, after all some things are too personal even to admit to yourself.” She continued: “My sister having a boyfriend was what preyed on my consicence. I wouldn’t say I was 100% religious, but I knew what my sister was doing was wrong and I felt guilty for being part of the conspiracy to cover it up from my parents. I hated myself for supporting her by lying and I hated her for putting me in such a position. I wanted to tell my parents, but not knowing their reactions killed me. They could be fine with it - which was too far-fetched - so naturally I thought the worst.”

“The ball of hate and anger got bitter and more knotty and totally consumed me. Everything was a mess and no answers were forthcoming. There is no worse feeling than knowing, 100% believing you are alone. I was just finding it hard to cope. Like any normal teen, albeit mine went one step further.”