White rabbit

To achieve the impossible you have to believe in it …..

I woke today, Alhamdulillah, and as somebody who’s neurodivergent, my brain doesn’t wake up slowly. It wakes already questioning, already exploring concepts and ideas before I’ve even got out of bed. It’s like my mind switches on and immediately starts running through connections, possibilities, meanings—already in motion before I’ve even fully entered the day.

This morning was no different.

And I found myself thinking that Alice in Wonderland was neurodivergent, because “I too have believed in as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

That kind of imagination, that sense of reality not being fixed but expandable, feels very familiar to me. My mind doesn’t naturally separate “realistic” from “impossible” in a rigid way first thing in the morning—it just explores what could be.

And in that same space, I started thinking about the White Rabbit.

The White Rabbit isn’t really just a character to me—it’s a symbol of how my mind actually works. It’s that sense of something already in motion before I’ve caught up to it. It’s curiosity pulling me forward, thought leading before structure, awareness already moving before I’ve even named what I’m looking at. It’s not about chasing something external—it’s about following the flow of attention that already exists inside me.

The White Rabbit, for me, is that part of thinking that doesn’t wait for permission. It’s the urgency of ideas, the pull of curiosity, the way meaning starts forming before I’ve had time to organise it. It’s what happens when I stop trying to slow my mind down and instead just follow where it naturally wants to go.

But out of all of those thoughts, images, questions, and scenarios my mind gave me this morning, the one thought that came through clearly wasn’t chaotic at all.

It was simple.

“Today is the first day of the rest of my life.”

And that shifted something in me.

Not in a dramatic way, but in a grounding way. Like something quietly aligned and said: start here. And from that, I ended up journaling my ideas and plans and how to achieve them —-so much so that I actually reached for a new journal to write in. Not because the old one was wrong, but because something in me wanted a fresh space to meet this moment properly.

And I started thinking about procrastination, and how I often fall into this pattern of feeling like I need to fully understand myself, fully process everything, fully get it all figured out before I can properly move towards what I want. Like I need to be complete first. But I’m starting to see that that mindset actually holds me in place more than it helps me.

To achieve the impossible, you have to believe in it first. And sometimes that means embracing creativity by rejecting rigid logic—the kind that says “this is possible” and “this isn’t” before anything has even had a chance to unfold. Because impossibility doesn’t usually become reality through some kind of magic. It happens when self-limitation gets replaced with self-directed possibility.

It’s about no longer accepting “I can’t” as the final truth. It’s about choosing to act from what might be possible, even if I don’t fully see it yet. And often that means throwing away not just my own internal restraints, but also other people’s impressions and narrow definitions of what is realistic for me.

And underneath all of that, there’s something I’ve found really grounding in Islam.

Because in Islam, I don’t have to be fully figured out before I turn back to Allah. I don’t have to be perfect, or fully healed, or fully sorted. I just keep turning back. Even when I’m messy. Even when I’m inconsistent. Even when I don’t fully understand myself. I just keep taking that step back towards Him, and understanding comes along the way.

And that removes something heavy.

Because it means I’m not waiting to become a finished version of myself before I’m allowed to live my life. I’m already living it. I’m already on the path. I’m already returning. And I figure it out as I go.

And that ties back into everything I felt this morning.

Understanding myself isn’t the door I need to find before I start walking. It’s something I discover while I’m already walking through it.

So today, with all the noise and movement in my mind, I still come back to that one simple thing:

“Today is the first day of the rest of my life.”

And I start it not as someone who is finished, but as someone who is willing to keep moving anyway.