Friday, November 24, 2017

A Painful Fate

Salam 3lykm,
This is something I wrote a few days ago, whilst waiting in the dentist's office with no Wi-Fi. The Middle East needs to catch up on the rest of the world, when it comes to the Internet. Waiting on Elon Musk, for free Internet worldwide!

That said, I'll leave you to peruse my thoughts...give you a little 'teaser' - if you will - of what my heart and mind have been subjected to, and probably will be subjected to, for life. Sounds like a death sentence, and feels like one, too.

Anger. That's exactly what I feel. Blind rage, for being taken advantage of. Emotionally, mentally, physically. The more I think about it, the more it burns. And the more it burns, the more I curse my existence.

Yet again, used. The cycle repeats itself, doesn't it? Maybe that's why I was hooked. Subconsciously, my brain detected the similarities...why, though? Why go through it all over again? Then again, I didn't choose it for myself this time. It was chosen for me.

Do I hold on, anticipating change? Or do I pretend to, in revenge? Do I let go just when I'm expected to stay? Or do I just play dead? And hope somewhere in between, it turns into reality?

Thursday, November 16, 2017


Salam 3lykm,

This post is going to be different. It's going to be like a 'one-take': raw, and unadulterated. It's going to be depressive, so if you've been looking forward to seeing something cheerful pop up on my blog, this is the time to hit the 'x' button on your browsers.

There's not going to be any fancy editing, because just adds more pressure to my already-pressurized mind. I'm like a ticking bomb. It is what it is: free writing. Dont expect any literary wonder either; I need this for MY sanity right now, so if you think this might give you some sort of  reassurance, I highly doubt it will. You still have time to hit 'x'.

I have two beautiful sons, yet when mothers gush about living for their children, or through their children..I cannot understand. Here I am, praying that I don't live for long, so my children don't have to endure my presence. I find myself looking forward to leaving them motherless, not because I'm shirking away from my responsibilities, but because I feel like I'm raising psychopaths. After all, how can someone with anxiety be trusted to raise a normal human being?

My anxiety attacks have started to become more frequent; I'm literally a nervous wreck all the goddamn time. Not exactly the most pleasant person to be around either, I'd imagine. What once used to be a daunting fear, I've now come to terms with: failure. After all, you can't really run away from Fate...can you?

I'm so tired of trying to explain myself to people; scratch that, I'm exhausted. I feel so drained, physically..mentally..emotionally, I really just want to switch off, and never feel a thing ever again. I feel like I wasn't made for this world; I hate it with all my being. I hate deceit. And I hate it even more, when it comes from those you are closest to.

I'm at a point where I never want to see certain people in my life ever again. Especially in the Hereafter. You've caused me so much pain; stay away, please. You've made me feel so inadequate; you've made me feel like I was at fault, when it was really all...YOU. As I type this, I feel like I have this ball in my throat...except it feels like my heart. Not a ball. What does it mean? What does any of it mean?

Love is a nightmare. I've gone through hell and back, except I feel like there's no coming back. It's a black hole. It always has been, and probably will always be. I've lost myself time and time again, to love. Let's say, if love was alive, I'd bludgeon it to death with a blunt object.

I have fantasized about running away, switching off all forms of contact with the world. Running away 'til I look back, and see nothing. Running away 'til I'm blinded by sweat, and regurgitating bitter bile, in an attempt to purge myself of the memories left by love. I want to start afresh, a clean slate.

I want to start with not having any emotions, ever. I'm sick and tired of feeling...make me heartless. I wish I could wave a stylus - and like a comic illustrator - turn my character into a heroine in charge of her emotions. I would start by never being fazed, especially by those she loves. Because they are the ones who deliver the lowest blows to the heart.

I'm tired. My eyes are finally closing, and if I don't sleep now....I'll be a momster again to my precious babies. How my heart aches, everytime those soulful eyes look up at me in confusion, when 'Mama gets mad'. How wretched I feel, when I see tears streaming down their chipmunk cheeks....because 'Mama cannot understand'.

I'm going to turn to free writing, in an attempt to rid myself of what feels like depression. It's weighing down upon me..ever so heavily, and all I want to let it consume me. But I will fight. If anything, I'll NOT do it for my children, or loved ones. I'll do it for the one who deserves better, but has FOREVER been prioritized last: ME.

'Til next time, Reader...I bid thee, 'Farewell'.

Saturday, August 12, 2017

My Subtle Declaration

Salam Allah 3lykm, 

Every post, I begin with how I thought I didn't have it in me anymore..this isn't to say I consider myself a great writer, but it seems like I'm always going to have something to fall back on, lest I lack someone to lean on someday. 

I sat in the corridors of my apartment, (unaware of how friggin' cold the tiles were, 'til I had to get up) scribbling away the thoughts that were beginning to eat me alive. Until today, I thought I had forever lost the ability to turn my thoughts into words, for fear of being judged. Or ridiculed. Maybe I'd subconsciously shut off the ability to do so, because I didn't want to accept any alternative to the life I had once dreamt of, and written about. I still find myself hesitant, hitting 'backspace' I ponder the consequences of my written words. Once this post is up, it is a known fact that it will never be altered...let alone deleted. 

On a sidenote, I read some posts I wrote a long time ago...and realized I don't even know who I am anymore. I contradict everything I once thought I'd be. My aspirations have been shot to hell, and everyday is now spent in regret. My tears have long dried up, and my spirit has slipped into a coma so deep, I fear I've reached a point of no return. 

I fear my thoughts, I really do. I have tried relentlessly to push them away, because once they are out..they might will distort my reality. But.........and it's a BIG but - I'm not living to love anymore. I'm just another prisoner of life, slashing days off as they come to a mundane end. I wish I could turn back the hands of time; I swear, I would be in a different place, far away from here.

My entire life flashes right before my eyes, as I think of every single life decision I entrusted a complete traitor with. Then I wonder about the million others who have suffered consequences worse than mine. 

How many lives have been ruined, how many hearts have been stomped upon...for the sake of 'In God we trust'? Which God were we being asked to seek, whilst a blindfold was being tightened, like a noose around the neck? Which God were we being told to turn back to, whilst our minds were being put to sleep? 

Mind games and manipulation, used to subdue and enslave people, turning them into nothing but minions. Minions who will literally bring the world to them at their feet,at the hefty price of their own lives, and the lives of their loved ones. 

Some of my thoughts may not make sense to many, but to those who have been swindled at the name of Islam, I sympathize with you. Those who have been maimed by a double-edged sword at the name of Islam, just remember: 

وَلَا تَحْسَبَنَّ اللَّهَ غَافِلًا عَمَّا يَعْمَلُ الظَّالِمُونَ ۚ إِنَّمَا يُؤَخِّرُهُمْ لِيَوْمٍ تَشْخَصُ فِيهِ الْأَبْصَارُ

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Love Is Life

Salaaam Allah 3lykm,

I'm excited to write this post, I've been looking forward to it since the second I hit 'save' on my phone. Yes, I'm finally back with another poem to add to the collection of poems I've already written! As always, I thought I didn't have it in me..but one person never lost faith in me. He's the very person who persistently pushed me to go back to blogging/writing, telling me to pick back where I left off.

As I write this, we've both turned a year older..and this is the sixth birthday I've had the pleasure of, to share with this wonderful man. I never gave a second thought to birthdays before, but ever since he came into my life, it's all changed. How could it not? WE SHARE THE SAME BIRTHDAY! 

Anyway, enough with the rambling - I leave you with my latest...and not my last, 'Love Is Life'. (Excuse the cliche of a title, but it really fit!)

My love for you continues to grow
You've made my life worthwhile
You take me high when I'm low
Tame me when I go wild

Immense is the happiness you bring
It's something you may not realize
When anger and pain is all I feel within
And with dejection, my heart writhes

Your absence, darker than the darkest nights
Leaves my world covered in frost
A traveler without any guiding light
With treacherous paths to cross

You're the sun to my weary soul
Breathing life into the mundane
To my destitute self, its dole
An asylum to my insane

I promise to love you forever
Through life's ups-and-downs
Effortlessly it may be, or an endeavor
To yours, my heart is eternally bound

HAPPY 29TH BIRTHDAY, BU3AWAS (As much as you argue against it, you're always going to be a year older, buddy. And a year wiser, but don't make me regret this!;p)

Thursday, November 24, 2016


Salam 3lykm,
I can always count on my blog to save me through the darkest nights, even if I've neglected it for a year. I'm coming close to 3 months postpartum; Mansoor is going to be 3 months old on the 3rd of December, Inshallah. So now, I'm a mother of two handsome boys, Al7mdlla. Even then, things aren't always as they appear..with that said, I leave you with my latest musings, written in the quiet of the night, after everyone had gone to sleep.

Let's cut to the chase; being a mother of two, I don't have much time to myself. But this post isn't about motherhood; it's about me. It's to help me unscramble the mess my mind is, to 'de-clutter'.

Time and time again, I feel so alone. And in this loneliness, my thoughts haunt me and taunt me. I feel like I've exhausted myself, trying to run after loved ones..proving myself to those who have - and always willdoubt me.

I feel like when I look around, I see familiar faces..but no one I can share unadulterated thoughts with, for the fear of being judged..for the fear of being mocked, and for the fear of having them used against me. 

Fears. They seem to be the noose that's tightening around my neck. I feel so drained, because of overthinking and over-analyzing every word I utter or type. I feel like shutting myself in, indefinitely. I feel like escaping from my life; taking a hiatus from all my responsibilities, and sinking into the dark depths of nothingness. I feel like there's no one who understands me, because I've yet to understand myself.

I feel so lost, like a person who's just been thrown off a ship, right in the middle of the ocean. I have no life-jacket or lifesaver, and trying to stay afloat is becoming increasingly difficult cumbersome. Unnecessary. 

It would just be a lot easier to close my eyes, and let gravity take over. It would just be a lot easier to leave my limbs limp, and let the waves swallow me up..finally show me what's beneath the surface. It would just be a lot easier to succumb to the mighty ocean, instead of battling it, and facing defeat.

رَبَّنَا ظَلَمْنَا أَنْفُسَنَا وَإِنْ لَمْ تَغْفِرْ لَنَا وَتَرْحَمْنَا لَنَكُونَنَّ مِنَ الْخَاسِرِينَ

و السلام عليكم و رحمة الله تعالى و بركاته

Tuesday, July 19, 2016


Salam 3lykm,

I find myself at the mercy of a keyboard once again. Until this post is written, I won't know whether that's fortunate or not, but I'm hoping it lifts the burden from my chest. Motherhood is endless; there's no pause button, and I think it's slowly getting to me. I can't just hand my baby over to someone, let alone take off on a getaway. And now I'm having another one. 

Everyday, I feel like I'm not cut out for this. I can barely take care of myself, let alone raise a decent human being. It's such a struggle, because life's entire purpose has changed. I feel like there are days when I want to throw in the towel, and say 'eff this! I'm done being a housewife'. There are days when I don't want to do a single thing, but how do you explain that to those around you? How do you tell them that you just want to hit pause indefinitely, when it doesn't even exist?

Even as I type, my son is stumbling all over the sofa, trying to get his mother's attention by hitting whatever keys he can get his pudgy little hands on. When all else fails, he then gets up to antics he knows are 'no nice', but at least Mama will put everything down..even if it means she won't be happy about it. See, a husband can be ignored when you're not in the mood for life, and to a certain extent, he will give you your space. But babies? How do you tell your baby, 'Mama is taking a break today - entertain yourself.' You just bloody can't.

Motherhood is super difficult. And I'm telling you, I'm not cut out for it. I don't have the patience or tolerance it be a mother. I might just be a monster, instead of a mother. Motherhood wasn't meant for the likes of myself; sometimes, I find myself wishing I'll wake up at some point, from this recurrent dream. Don't get me wrong; Eesa is the most adorable baby there ever could be, and counting him infinite times as a blessing, still wouldn't do him justice. In fact, that's exactly what makes me feel so inadequate.

Bu3awas has been after me to join some Mommy & Me classes, or communities of stay-at-home moms, but I really couldn't be bothered. I don't have the will or energy to interact with other adults, to forge friendships that may or not 'blossom' into something that would be beneficial for my well-being. Stuff it! I don't even want to smile some days; who's going to deal with the consequences of my lack of desire to feel anything, when I actually make the effort to be social?

I was never good at friendship, takes way too much effort - I'd rather channel whatever effort I can muster up, into motherhood. I can tell you one thing, though: there are days when I don't want to get out of bed, but when my baby peers at me innocently, with those big brown eyes of his..curiously pokes his stubby shrimp-like fingers up my nostrils, and giggles with delight as he exclaims, "Namma!" (Food!) makes me throw the covers off, and start yet another day.

So, that's my jumbled up take on motherhood. I'm not cut out for it, but there's no turning back now. I'm not cut out for it, but I have to force myself to be. I'm not cut out for it, but these little lives depend on me, so here's to feigning positivity..and possibly, a life of make-belief. 

رَبَّنَا هَبْ لَنَا مِنْ أَزْوَاجِنَا وَذُرِّيَّاتِنَا قُرَّةَ أَعْيُنٍ وَاجْعَلْنَا لِلْمُتَّقِينَ إِمَامًا

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

It's a Boy!

Salaaaam Allaahhh 3lykm!
'Where have I been all these months? I didn't even realize how long it's been since I last gave this blog any attention, to be quite honest. Well, it's finally happened; I was 15 when I took the alias of 'um3eesa' or 'um3awas'.....on the 2nd of October, Muhammad Eesa Khan finally came into our world.
Yes, that's where I've been..pregnancy was anything but easy, but the result was totally worth it. I now understand how women can have such rough pregnancies, yet do it all over again several times. They're not insane, as I initially assumed. Well, exceptions exist..I suppose!
Being a mother is super exhausting; sleep becomes a thing of the past. My little cherub tends to stay up all night, & sleeps while I nurse him throughout the day. Motherhood is a superpower on its own, though - I'm alive on less than 4 hours of sleep, Sb7analla. I don't feel sleep-deprived anymore; I suppose it's his cuteness that powers me on.'
I don't even remember when I starting writing this post, but as I complete it, Eesa will be 13 months old tomorrow, Al7mdlla. A lot has changed in life, obviously..but one thing I hate is, I've stopped writing. Completely. The last piece I wrote was well over a year ago. In fact, I don't think I have it in me to write anymore. Even if I do write, I won't have anything positive to say. We have enough negativity going around the world; don't really need to add to it, now do I? Don't exactly want people 'reading between the lines', scrutinizing every paragraph, and jumping to assumptions, either.

Why do I feel like I've said these words before? I'd probably find them in a post, if I were to go through my posts. Anyway, Eesa is now 3 months shy of 2 years, Al7mdlla...and will be a big brother in October, Inshallah. That's how long it has been since I last blogged. 

I won't lie..I don't have the desire to write anymore. Maybe it's because I don't have a laptop since May 2014, maybe it's because Bu3awas didn't give my writing much attention, when my blog was my pride and joy..I don't know the reason, but all I know is...I feel like I've completely lost the one talent I had. Now, with Bumpkin on the's going to be another few years before I manage to get any 'me time'...which is why I decided to sit my butt down, and update my neglected blog.

Needless to say, Bu3awas has been after me to resume blogging, and has been very encouraging altogether...a tad bit late, don't you think?!xD Rabbi yjzeeh elfrdous, nevertheless. It might help salvage whatever sanity hasn't been shot to hell by motherhood. How I'm going to manage taking care of a newborn, whilst running after a beyond my understanding. But I know one thing for sure: When He brings you to it, He brings you through it. That's what I'm clinging on to, for dear life.

I think this post is now long enough to suffice as an update. It might even be the one that brings me back to the blogosphere..wallahu a3lam. I must admit, I'm thoroughly enjoying typing my thoughts out, watching them transform into words right before my eyes! Maybe this is what I've needed all along...

Anyway, 'til next time...and hopefully it won't be when I'm expecting my third munchkin, because that's not going to be for quite a few years from now. It would be a shame to give up on this unexplainable feeling of clattering away on keys..basically doing something that isn't baby-related!

Drop a comment or two, if you want this blog to come back to life.

و السلام عليكم و رحمة الله تعالى و بركاته


Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Fleeting Moment

Salam Allah 3lykm,

Blogging. I miss hammering the keys furiously when in a state of blind rage. I miss pouring my heart out, not giving a damn about the criticism that is harbored in hearts void of compassion; hearts ridden with malice so venomous, it devours them. To hell with it all; 'not to write' isn't an option; 'not to write' is suicide.

Appreciation bears no cost, yet it is withheld by the iron-fisted. Dreams are drowned by endless tears, and smiles are swallowed up by fear of the unknown. Fear of what atrocities are about to be committed; fear of becoming prey. Prey to the stone-hearted; prey to savages, prey to the whim-driven.

I'd like to run away right now, from everything and everyone; push every single loved one away, before they get hurt by my bitter words.  

It's that fleeting moment in life when I feel like the walls around me are caving in, crushing my ribs, making every other breath impossible. That moment when 'safety' loses all meaning, and you feel exposed to the snarling wolves of this world, waiting to rip you up into pieces. That moment when every loved one's reassurance sounds like hypocrisy laced with mockery - acid on open wounds. That fleeting moment when Eblees maliciously empowers both heart and mind , at the edge of victory -- when ذكر الله shoves The Eternally Damned away. 

 - أَلَا بِذِڪۡرِ ٱللَّهِ تَطۡمَٮِٕنُّ ٱلۡقُلُوبُ -
Inner-peace is just a heartbeat away, amidst the turmoil of a bloody war; all harm is kept at bay by ذكر الله.

و السلام عليكم و رحمة الله تعالى و بركاته

Friday, December 6, 2013

To Write or Not to Write

Salam Allah 3lykm, 

Life is ridiculously fast-paced; December's already here, and 2013 is about to come to an end in less than 30 days. Surprisingly, my 'inner poet' sprung awake today after a long slumber; once again, all scrambled thoughts. I don't think anyone will be able to understand the actual meaning behind what I've written, which is okay. 

Do I have what it takes to survive, or will this struggle be the death of me? This is taking a heavy toll on my life, and is eating away at my sanity. 
Should I leave, I will probably be replaced. Staying would only cause grief, having left the greatest solace.
I don't want this to be my biggest regret; I need some time to recuperate. As blissful as it might get, it takes great strength to accept your Fate. 
Only ink knows the scars etched into my heart; tales of betrayal, hypocrisy, and hate. 'Reading between the lines' is merely a start; only my Lord knows of my truest state.
Ink spills over as I try to make sense of my internal battles; forming words and sentences snaking like chains and shackles. Do I really gain 'freedom', as I write my troubles down? Or is this just a medium that'll have me shackled to the ground?
Will sentences I write of my struggle, be held taut against my neck? Will my attempt to salvage sanity be the shovel, that buries me under dirt with the dead?
Wes Salam 3lykm w R7matullahi T3aala w Barakateh

Tuesday, August 6, 2013


Salam 3lykm,

Miss me? 'Course not. Well, I'm back with more, anyway. Like it and read it, or save your breath 'n' beat it. Okay no, that was rude of me..I'm sorry. Nah, not really.'s what I wrote last night. Just some more bottled up thoughts that needed to be released, really.

I will never feel like I belong, because I don't. I will always run towards solitude for comfort, knowing that the world will only taunt me for sharing my heart's pleas. I refuse to be labeled a 'control-freak', thus my lips shall remain sealed, & I will not allow myself to become involved.  
All I want is some certainty that puts a smile upon my face. All I want is freedom; the freedom to run away from time to time, in search of what needs to be sought. Don't restrict me, don't constrain me, don't hold me down.  
Let me be; let me revel in my solitude, as my thoughts take the shape of letters. Letters that form words and string into coherent sentences. Sentences that depict the critical state I've reached, and want to flee. 
Wes Salam 3lykm w R7matullahi T3aala w Barakateh