When Your Muslim Parents Don't Understand Mental Health

I grew up with traditional Pakistani parents, arranged marriage and all from the hearts of Karachi. From a young age, I had already known what I can and cannot do around them. I can talk to them about grades and food and friends, just not about boys and feelings and sex. I can watch cartoons and Disney shows but nothing that has kissing and relationships and girls showing a lot of skin. Even important topics such as periods were avoided. To this day, my mother still has not properly told me what a period is and when I got it, all she did was show me how to wash my underwear so we don't buy new ones and how to put on a pad. Growing up, these were just taboo topics that as a Muslim child were instilled in you not to talk about.

That's how and why I kept the depression that was growing inside of me since middle school hidden. A large part of it was due to me following dark Tumblr accounts but even after I realized what was happening and unfollowed them all, I realized that I had already spiraled. My head had turned into a dark place and self-harm was constantly on my mind and this followed me into high school and soon into college. There were days where I would lock myself in my room, sit against the door, and harm myself. I would silently cry and wished for my life to be over already. Yet the minute I heard footsteps in the hallway, I knew I had to switch back to being the golden little daughter. I learned to keep little wipes in my room and how to not look like I had been crying quickly. My parents always told me how proud they were of me, that I had gotten stellar grades, and got accepted into college. They had told me who and what they wanted me to be since I was a small girl. I remember my mom saying Duaas in the car for me to "marry a healthy and wealthy husband" and they constantly reminded me to finish college and then look for a Pakistani-Muslim husband.

Depression is something that runs in my family. My uncle and grandma both clinically had it, yet no professional help for them was provided because of cultural and religious views. It was always said to just pray to Allah and to hope He guides you into a better path and that He is all you need. It would just "be in their heads" or the "Shaitan/Devil" had gotten to them or "they just need to get a job or hobby so they don't think too much."

For me, praying has never worked and I know my parents will not understand that. Any time I tell them I'm feeling anything but happy, meaning stressed for a test or nervous for a job interview, the only advice is to pray. I've tried to shed light on the matter of depression when celebrities such as Robin Williams took his own life or when Demi Lovato expressed that she self-harmed. Yet from the conversation I've had, I know that their minds land on "they had everything in his life, that's why it's bad to have too much money" or "they're going to hell because they harmed God's body."

It's difficult having parents not understand the full extent of your feelings and also not know the full definitions of the words they use such as depression and anxiety. I've overheard conversations where they talk about a family member who has been off their game lately or has been acting differently and it immediately goes to, "Yeah, they're just being depressed." It isn't right for them to throw those words around and even when trying to explain to them the differences between depressed and sad, they don't fully grasp the concept.

So that's why I continued to put a smile on my face and told them all was fine. I had my friends to turn to. I also knew that there would be consequences to me feeling this way. What I would watch and read would be monitored more and I would constantly be watched.

And then I told them.

It was honestly a disaster. They blamed it on the boyfriend they recently found out I had, even though I explained he was the main reason why I don't self-harm anymore. They blamed it on college. They blamed it on the freedom they gave me and refused to hear that I had been like this since middle school. I can clearly still hear my mom saying, "You were smiling last weekend, so you can't say you're depressed" as if a smile isn't something that is easy to put on.

I tried to explain to them how I was feeling, but all I got was an "everyone is depressed!" and a "this is why you need to pray more!" response.

And it hurt. A lot. It still hurts because they're still focused on the fact that I have a boyfriend rather than the fact that I have been depressed and used to self-harm.

My friends have helped me out tremendously over the past few years. They've been my actual life support and it hurts that the people that are meant to support me, can't. I've had to come to terms with the fact that my parents will not ever fully understand mental health and that I have to find my own solutions. They will not understand that people need to seek actual help and that praying to Allah isn't the only way. I've learned that they care more about what other people might think than what I am actually going through. I've also learned what to never put my children through. I also understand that many other Muslim children experience the same pain. So here's to us, the ones hurting and finding our own way to heal.