Inner Strength

I have heard it hundreds, maybe even thousands of times: “Resh, you’re so strong. Resh, you’re inspiring.” People send me heartfelt messages or approach me in public applauding me for handling the situation I am in in the way I have. I want to know what makes me so different? Why am I the strong one? You are looking at me and the hurdles I am over coming and comparing them to your problems and stresses. Am I not just playing the cards I have been dealt?

Regardless of what may be going on in your life, whether it be; work, school, university, college, relationships, breakups, devastation, trauma, illness, family or friends issues, no one has the right to undermine you or anything that bothers you. We are all individuals, all dealt different hands and all have different threshold levels of what we believe we can handle.

I want to point out that if its a stress to you, no matter how big or small the issue may seem to others, then it is a stress and it matters. Stop belittling your feelings and problems, stop feeling as though you shouldn’t be allowed to get down about the ‘little’ things. I appreciate others look to me and my story and question why they let things get to them, but don’t put yourself down for it.

I don’t have much of an explanation, but the explantation I do have is that I like to believe that we all have this strength within us. Such a powerful inner strength lies within us that keeps us moving forward. From every single time in the past in which you’ve sat there not being able to see how you’re going to move past the ordeal you’re going through. For ever moment you’ve been on the brink of giving up, tears and despair, you’ve managed to get past its one way or another. You’ve got past every difficult day you’ve ever had to be here. Reflect on each time you’ve not been able to see a future, there is something within you that has kept you pushing on.

Oblivious to you is that inner strength. You could go through life without ever realising what strength you truly possess, but if you do ever identify it and learn just how strong you are, you’ll realise just how capable you are to do anything. There’s only so much you can do, so far you can go with the inner strength alone. Yes you could come out the other side of a traumatic event physically, but emotionally are you broken? But imagine how strong, how powerful, how confident and how motivated you could be once you knew just how special you are.

You’re the only version of you in the world. Make it important. Stand for something real. Chase love not popularity. So what if you aren’t everyone’s favourite, did you try your best to be the best version of you today? You’re here for you. Make a positive difference. Overcoming every single issue in your life is a giant stride forward. Once it is done, that issue can be left in your past.

Whilst over coming issues, all your current actions will become parts of your past. Remember that your actions and words are a reflection of you. Everything in your past gets folded up and put into a suitcase, which you carry around forever. No one is perfect, and we have all tried different methods, its all part of the process of growing up. Never let someone else alter your actions or behaviour to the point you can’t recognise yourself anymore. Why are you being put in a situation that you can’t move forward, or you don’t see your life continuing in the way you’d like.

Handle each tough time with grace. Don’t lose yourself in a world where it is all to easy to do so. Keep your dignity and respect for yourself, and the world will show it to you. Remember, you’re only here to compete with yourself. Get to know who you are, realise all the power you truly have. Look at how far you’ve come already, aren’t you proud? You’ve got no reason to shy away or hide the things society tells you are flaws. No one has the right, nor can they ever take away your inner strength. I just wish you just recognised how much strength you have.

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JME – Don’t @ me

I wanted to write a long post clarifying the things I already had. But then I realised it was pointless and exhausting.

Only the guilty feel guilt.

My conscience is clean.

I have better things to do with my time.

I have never stole or withheld money that isn’t mine. In regards to any of the nonsense about, I haven’t done anything wrong (like I have already said).

If I had, why haven’t the police been involved? Why has this been handled it a childish ‘he said/she said’ manner? I have had to call the CID, friends and family myself. I was going to let the whole thing completely slide.

I was told “Stop thinking about what you want everyone to think. Fuck what everyone thinks. As long as your parents are happy and Allah is, no one needs to be relevant.” But harassment, threats, abuse and slander is unacceptable. The dumbest scream the loudest. If it continues I will file for criminal charges, I might even do it anyway. I need more time to think.

In regards to the issue itself I am sure you can appreciate that when it comes to family, things are different. A lot goes on behind closed doors. You all don’t know us personally, you see what we want you to see, but everything online is a mask. You haven’t seen me crying, begging for money or hoping for sympathy. In fact, you have seen no interviews from me. No attempt from me to rush to tell the world in detail of my terrifying experience. I use blogs because I felt I owed the general public a part of me, to thank them for their help, support and generosity. I will do an interview one day, but for now my focus is elsewhere, getting better. All I do is respond to well-wishers, try to feel and look good and do something positive in the world. I will not apologise for not breaking or crumbling and letting the attacker win. I am allowed to smile, move on, be distracted and be open.

I looked through old messages and realised screenshots would humiliate certain people and reveal the true colours and motives of them. And although humiliate is exactly what has been tried to be done to me, I respect the family, their kids, our reputation and our sanity to not waste my time. Individuals that initially contacted me received the full story, and I was soon sent apologies.

Like I have said, I have done nothing wrong. If you google it, you’ll see it in black and white. Resham Khan is me and just me. Daniel Mann is an old friend. Fake accounts did pop up and they were reported and deleted. I have so many screenshots, so many people witness the events of the last few weeks. But my life isn’t your day time entertainment. I appreciate the love, care and support, at times I feel like I can achieve anything. But keep it positive. I’m not here to fight off the Internet.

No one is alone. No one has been abandoned. No one is skint, 20k is a lot of money. I haven’t gone into hiding or disappeared, I’m at home, continuing life as best I can. I can’t bring myself to be mad. I’m just tired. It just feels like such unnecessary drama. I have come to understand that some people just want someone to blame. Not everyone handles such traumatic life changing events the same way I do. Recovery and adjustment takes time. If I need to be someone else’s punching bag to get them through such a tough time, then so be it. I hope that in the future we can all look back and recognise it was probably due to emotional pain. I needed to focus my attention on something and I did, a campaign. Others focus their attention on other things. I guess it’s just the process of coming to terms. I feel bad of course, but I have to look after myself. I can’t care for everyone as much as I’d love to. As someone that has endured threats, manipulation and lies in an attempt to get more money, I’m sure you can understand why I wanted to free myself from it all.

I don’t want to talk about how much of a toll this, and everything else is taking on me. I’m trying to keep my mind clear and focus on the right things. I’m not looking to have a breakdown. But have acid thrown over you and experience what I have and you may be able to relate. I don’t have the time or energy to deal with anyone that has 50p put in them. I have bigger problems! I suck it up and tackle each one. Stop trying to get in my way.

Gather facts. Get evidence. Speak the truth. Or shut up.

Money will always be tainted.

But my conscience isn’t.

See below for the conversation I had with the journalist in question that proceeded to write lies about me after I told her it was untrue. She was so hungry for a story she had asked my friends to message me and ask me to speak to her. Where is the respect for boundaries? When I called and emailed the media outlet I was basically offered an interview to rectify the nonsense they had put out about me. No apology from the journalist, just an interview offer. Unbelievable really.

Thanks for reading.

P.s. I deleted so much of this. Now is not the time to spill. But definitely time to set the record straight.

Apologies for any typos. I’ve not been able to sleep because of this bs

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Here I’m sat, frantically typing away this post on my notes on my phone, whilst I sip my coffee and bite into my fresh wrap. I’m sat on what looks an old vintage wooden chair that’s been up-cycled. The soft khaki cotton back with a slight rip beautifully compliments the worn wooden arm rests beside me. The chair shows character, almost as if it tells a story. I’m sat here wondering where it’s from, and how it is so comfortable. I’m in a local cafe, I have bought myself breakfast/lunch (I’ve not yet had either but this will probably be both, so perhaps a not as classy answer to brunch?). Around me the two female working get about cleaning and prepping food, humming along to what I’m guessing to be mainstream pop from the radio. I’m pretty sure I heard a bit of Ed Sheehan earlier, not the Yung Bxne version unfortunately for me.

Now the scene is set, I can picture you, picturing me, covered from head to two to avoid sun rays, red yet whitewashed face from the factor 50 sunscreen, and cap on. Dressed in old pants, a t shirt, hoodie and socks and fluffy sliders. I could give you the impression that I’m doing something quite edgy, doing something most city folk do in the afternoon. But I can’t, I feel like this is an unplanned, unwanted stop in my day (although the cafe is lovely). Why do I feel so alone and distant from the world whilst I do it? I can’t lie and say I wanted to be sat alone this lunch, pondering my thoughts, but here I am.

Sat alone, looking busy as I type this blog post up in my notes, coffee in hand, I’ve once again hit a cross roads in life: What do you do when you’re in a bad situation? Do you stay in the situation and keep trying because this time ‘it will be different’? Or do you learn from every other last attempt, all of those painfully heartbreaking attempts, grab yourself together, and never be seen again? How can you abandon something you love so you can love yourself more? How can you keep trying when you’re the only one sincerely trying? Some people change, some people don’t, and it’s not our responsibility to change others. Although there might be love in the situation, the love just isn’t enough. That love isn’t transferable, it doesn’t just turn into care, affection and consideration. You can discuss the issue over and over, and you can receive all types of advice from all types of people. You can be mindful and understanding, but it will only get you so far. When do you put the needs of yourself first and and hit the road? It’s a shame because you hold on so tight, just like you have held on for so long, because the love is strong, the feelings are real, and that wide-eyed expression of hope and ‘maybe’ is still there.

You have to realise you have yourself and only yourself in the world. I can tell you that for certain. Although my inboxes are drowning me with heart warming messages, in a world full of billions, you can feel like the loneliest, the only one. Perhaps it would be different if I had a friend, maybe just one, one that made plans with me, or didn’t cancel the plans I had made. If I received responses to my messages, if I was invited out when you’re all out. Was it just the face? The hot legs and the upbeat attitude and banter? No quiet ones, no ‘how you doing?’. This isn’t a dig at anyone, I know people are busy. The best of friends can go months without seeing each other, purely because they are both busy, and I respect that. Mind you, I left the country on my friends, so maybe that plays a part.

But I’m stuck again, same crossroads as I have been at countless times before. Maybe it will be different. Maybe they will see what’s right in front of them before it’s too late. Maybe they’ll be able to love me how I need them to love me. Maybe I’ll be able to be proud of you, and everything you’ve overcome, because you recognised a time I needed you more than ever and you stepped up? Maybe I wouldn’t need to be sat in a cafe, alone at lunch, tears flowing yet being as discreet as possible, hoping you don’t lose me because most of all I don’t want to lose you.

Maybe things will be different. Maybe things will be the same as every other time. You’ll continue to lie, let me down and hurt me, but this time, I’ll be different. I’ll be brave. And I’ll be gone.

Because alone and loved by myself,
Is better than
Alone and holding out, waiting to be loved.

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Thanks for calling me a bitch

Today has been a huge step forward for my personal development. But before I get into that, I want to talk about Instagram. Instagram, the social networking site that I usually find quite shallow. Everything based on photos, looks, what you appear to be like and have. Yet none the less, I use it myself. The majority of my photos are when I’m all done up ready to go out, and manage to fit a quick photo shoot in before heading out. But with Instagram comes direct messages. I won’t be dramatic and I won’t exaggerate. I can comfortably say that from time to time I’ll receive a few dms from both male and females. Today I opened a dm from a guy that had initially messaged me a few weeks ago wishing me well. Long story short, my lack of response or effort to make casual conversation led to him calling me a bitch and telling me to delete him (although I didn’t actually follow him).

Okay so it might sound silly, but it really wound me up. Who says that just because a guy messages a woman it means she MUST reply, and if she doesn’t she is a rude, mean person that deserves to be called a bitch. Don’t push your toys out the pram just because a woman isn’t entertaining the conversation. The reasons for her reply, or lack of, is not up for discussion. LADIES: We don’t have to reply to anyone. We choose what we do each day. We pick what and who we spend our time on. Oh wait, why am I aiming this to the women? THEY ALREADY KNOW THIS! This is to the men, don’t be pathetic and try and put someone down because you are unhappy. What do you gain from it? Why bother? I just wonder, do these guys lack the basic respect that they should of been taught from childhood this they should have to women, to everyone even!

Although I’m kind of ranting on about this really really tiny thing that I’ve probably made seem like a big deal. I know it’s not a big deal. It’s insignificant to my day. Yes what he did was wrong and uncalled for, but it’s not going to keep me up all night. The reason I wanted to share this was for two reasons. 1. To make it clear to the ladies and men about respect. 2. BECAUSE OMG today, I had a rant, about something normal. Today I just had the chance to moan on and get annoyed about something I would of a month an a half ago. I was the old me, no acid talk, no over thinking decisions, no worries. Just some guy getting defensive. And I think after I calmed down from being annoyed, it made my day. Someone was actually moaning at me because of a lack of reply again. It wasn’t a ‘hope your well’ ‘I’ve just heard’ ‘speedy recovery’ message. Although I appreciate them all, and help so much when I read through them when I’m feeling low. This guy just expected me to have the time to constantly talk to him, as if I had an obligation to. And I’m so glad. I’ve realised there are people in my life that since the attack have unintentionally led me to feel like a different person around them, and others I feel like just me, without any burns. I don’t think it’s anyone’s fault, I understand even those around me need time to adjust. But being considered a mean bitch for not replying felt great.

I know at the start of this I mentioned personal development, and aside from feeling a bit more normal thanks to Instagram, I ventured out today. Although I wasn’t going to, I decided I couldn’t put a timeline on ‘when I’m ready’ to leave my house. I did it on my own terms; went with my dad, wore huge shades, went to only one store and went after the shopping rush. But I still did it. More than likely I’ll try again, maybe aiming to go out closer to rush hour the more my face begins the heal.

So overall, I’ve been out of hospital for two days, and I’ve seen friends, sat in a car (windows closed obviously) and walked to B&M home stores.

A little note for myself (and the world I guess): the whole being sat in a car passenger seat needs to be reflected on. I was sat parked with my friend, her in the driver me in the passenger. Whilst we were talking she accidentally pressed the window controls for my window. I never screamed that loud and jumped onto her that quickly in my life. In a split second my reflexes came into action, I was off my seat, clutching to her and my phone and sunglasses had dropped in the car.

I guess I can do these things. I’m just doing them whilst constantly in fear.

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It’s The Little Things

It really is. If you could call today anything I guess you could call it a low day. We all have our ups and downs, but it’s all about how we get back up from our downs. Hospital life is tricky. I make jokes with the other patients about how I’m institutionalised, how I there’s no life for me on ‘the outside’ and how far technology has advanced since I first got in. But it’s about who you make those jokes with. How you get positive enough to make jokes at all. It’s the little things.

When I was in the burns ward, I felt like I had spent as long as I could remember inside, away from the sun. I was barely walking, and losing hope. I would stand staring in the mirror whilst streams of tears ran from my eyes. I couldn’t understand what had happened to me. Perhaps it still hasn’t hit me. But the point is I was losing myself, I thought I had lost myself.

Mandy, the blue haired nurse that reminded me so much of my friends mum Andrea, mentioned a pair of straighteners they had which were donated to them. Those straighteners were my lifeline. I was so used to being dressed up, or at least dressing up every once in a while. In hospital you’re in your pyjamas 24/7, your nails can get out of control, you lack your usual basics like a razor, and you know there’s no point in getting them because you’re too weak to do you usual shower regime. To spend some time pampering myself, straightening my hair before visits lifted my spirits. My face didn’t matter because everyone could see my clean long straightened black hair. My hair, the protection, the cover of my skin, the distraction. As I said it’s the little things. Now I’m not in the burns ward, now I don’t have access to any straighteners, I have to lift my spirits in other ways.

I’m in the plastics ward. Here I don’t have my straighteners, my own bathroom, my own room. Here, I have to share with 3 other people, and a story about how I lost it and refused to show my face to anyone when I arrived here is for another blog entry, but here I learned to accept others looking at me, a bit. Here I met Bernadette. A lovely lady. Before getting to know her better, I knew of her seizures I’d witness in the night as nurses and doctor would run in to calm her down. Seeing this and being expected to sleep just meters away whilst this happened was horrible. I was left with a sinking feeling, a helpless feeling, I was useless here.

We met whilst I was crying like a child. There was a bandage to the back of my wound had stuck to the new healing skin, for the second time, and wouldn’t come off. It took 3 days to get it off, but the nurses main method to get this off was to rip it off. During the ripping attempts of day two, I was begging the nurse to leave it, crying for the whole ward to hear. She left and told me she’d be back after I’d calmed down, but I wasn’t taking no chances. Without pants on, and clutching to this painful bandage, I hopped off my bed and ran to the door. My plan was to hide in the bathroom and try get it off myself in the shower.

On my way Bernadette called me to her bed and consoled me. She asked what was up, and gave me advice on what to do. She looked after me and gave me that first hand support I needed. I went into the shower and attempted to soak it off for the next 40 minutes. Since that first conversation, we got talking to the others in the room, and it made things feel less isolated. Thanks to these women, thanks to Bernadette wanting extra biscuits off the nurses, I plucked up the courage to walk to the shop within the hospital. I wanted to treat the women, and for this I showed my face in public. During the night I’d hear Bernadette talking about me on the phone, hearing only pleasant things. I can’t really describe anything further about our interactions and about our private jokes, but I’m sure you would be able to appreciate and understand how much she helped me smile throughout the day. It probably seemed like nothing to these women, but to me it was reassurance that my face was okay, that I was okay, and that I could handle the world.

Bernadette left today, along with both of the other women. They all left around the same time. I’m alone again + the wavy hospital hair.

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Why did I start a blog?

Whilst being in hospital, the days can sometimes fall into each other and it’s easy to lose track of what day of the week it is. I’m hopeful that the creation of this blog provides me with a positive distraction, and a contributes towards steadily managing the past, present and future. Even upon discharge I feel as though throughout my ordeal (To read about this, check out the My Story page), I have had so much support, from friends, family and even strangers. I have experienced a sense of being, a feeling of care and support, from people all around the world that I have never and probably never will meet. Whenever I devote time to sort through the hundreds of messages I have received from well wishers, I always get filled with a sinking feeling. These people want updates on how I am, and they just want to help, yet I have been struggling to respond at a respectable rate. My way of thanking and updating others, as well as handling this chapter in my life is to document it as a blog. Even here, at the beginning of my online journey, I realise that I need to make sure I establish what I decide to post to the world, and what I’d like to keep private.

…That is why I want to create to sides of me,, my online self that shares parts of her life with the world, and Resham Khan, my offline self, that moves forward, and tries her best to move upwards and onwards…
So here I am for you all, a blog on updates, a blog devoted to my recovery, to my future, to me. No running away or hiding, no being fearful, just

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