Seeking an End

Apparently, I'm a 'control freak'. I stifle people's lives. AKA 'The Fun Police'. The priceless medals I get for giving this shit my all. 

Maybe happiness is just a mirage. It doesn't exist - everyone's either delusional, or faking it because they know they will never be able to make it. 

If that wasn't enough, I also 'think of myself as the purest thing there ever was'. 'Miss Never-Wrong.' If only you knew. If only it were possible to know how much wrong there was on the day I maintained my silence. The day I screwed myself over by holding my peace. 

Deluded by the romanticized brain fog that held my senses captive. Lulled by false promises and lured into broken dreams. Broken nightmares is more like it. Nightmares I took upon myself to delve in, to try and find a way out of. For good. 

Yes, that's where I went wrong. I made it my life's mission to 'make things right'. I gave it my all, to receive nothing but incessant criticism and scorn. 

I really don't care anymore. 

I really couldn't give a damn if there's not a shred of respect left for me - the feeling's beyond mutual. Maybe this is where Fate has a different ending. Maybe I'm just not cut for this shit. Lord Knows I'm sick of it.

I've given it my mind, body, and soul. It's still not enough. I'm 'suffocating'. Someone suffocate me, please. That would be the ultimate release, wouldn't it? It would be killing two birds with one stone, quite literally. Much-needed relief, right? 

Speak Up?

Salam Allah 3lykm, 

It has taken so many days to get to this point. I've been contemplating about starting up on my blog again since months now, but something keeps holding me back. Maybe it's the thought that I started writing here in my teens; I don't know how much I can or cannot divulge before it turns into 'airing dirty laundry', or worse - who's going to stumble across this blog now, to find a nearly 34 year old stay-at-home mom trying to salvage her sanity?

Anyway, a lot has changed since the last time I wrote. My boys are both going to school, which means I actually have time to myself now. I've become one of those 'wake up earlier than everyone else' type of people, just to add more 'responsibility-free' hours to my day. I say 'responsibility-free', but they usually involve cooking/packing lunches, making breakfast, clearing dishes, etc. without anyone else piling their needs/wants on me in between. And it means I then get guilt-free 'me time' during the day, when my not-so-little ones are in school! 

I enjoy it, though - had someone told me the secret to a clean home, kitchen sink, empty laundry hamper + stand + basket, and a freshly cooked meal is sending the children to school, I would've probably done it a lot sooner! JK - as much as I value my sanity, I don't think babies should be separated from their mommies SO young.:')

I honestly don't know what direction this post is going to take - all I know is, I've increasingly sold the idea of writing being therapeutic to many loved ones, so not writing myself is beginning to make me feel quite hypocritical..and I'm here to change that. I think it's also the self-induced pressure to write something 'good' that's restrained me. The idea that people deem me 'good enough a writer to proofread their work' is nerve-wrecking. I'd like to be able to revert to the 'open book' I once was, freely expressing my brain farts to the world. 

Adulting. I think that's the inhibitor. The idea that I'm now supposed to be responsible enough to filter my thoughts, because oversharing is bad. But how can you then be that consolation an individual needs, as they stumble across your blog on a particularly difficult night - how can you be the realization that there is a light at the end of the dark, almost-suffocating tunnel..if your unadulterated take is now going to be projected whilst taking possible offenses into consideration? 

I vaguely remember talking about the possibility of having ADHD on this blog, I cannot remember when or even what spurred that thought, though. I seem to be a textbook case of ADHD, though. I fit the whole 'lack of organization skills, decision making, planning, yada yada yada' category. It's helped me understand a lot of 'inconveniences' which drove people around me up a wall. Then again, it's merely a self-diagnosis. I've been told I'm crazy for believing everything on the Internet, but then again - the world is at our fingertips thanks to the Internet. You can literally pull up information on anything and everything you think of. But let's be real: your device probably throws it in your face, before you can even deny having thought about it.

..Is this a good start? Is it a proper attempt to get back in the flow of penning my thoughts? I don't know. I'm just distracted by my 6yo's inability to finish a meal by himself, without my intervention. Is this airing dirty laundry? God Knows. If there's any exasperated parent out there who has a 6yo who won't eat by themselves, know you're not a bad parent. You're doing whatever you can - everyone has their own timeline. Including kids. Cue the horrified gasps and judgmental tuts of aunties worldwide. Except the aunties are now grannies and we're....the aunties?! 

Mind-blown. See, I think the reason I also avoid this blog is because I revert into the 15yo who started this blog. It doesn't feel like the 'responsible adult you've now turned into', as a family friend kindly put it a few days ago. The last time she saw me, I was in school. Or university. I don't remember, to be quite frank. Whatever the case, I just feel like I hold myself back from the possible criticism that might come my way. 

Would it help if my thoughts were as wondrous as the recipes I conjure up, when the pantry's bare? Or how about the way I repurpose leftovers to empty the fridge? ...maybe my thoughts just aren't adult enough? And by adult thoughts, I don't mean NSFW. PLEASE. I mean 'mature' - Blekh. 'Not childish', not 'teeny-bopperish'. 

Maybe I shouldn't even care - who do I need to prove myself to, in my mind? Why am I setting all these 'good enough' constraints on myself? It's not like I'm trying to impress people who mistakenly find their way on my blog. Or am I? Is that why I've stopped writing? The lack of validation, perhaps? This blog was more like a diary, once upon a time. Maybe that's how I need to treat it...it's not a literary wonder. It wasn't really meant to be; the poems were just a fluke. 

It's SO hard to focus on my thoughts with 6yo waddling to and fro, passing on 'messages' from the 8yo. It was a lot easier to ramble on, whilst pulling an all-nighter trying to meet a project deadline. 

----------------------------

Alright, attempt numero dos. Kids are at school, and all my chores are done. I now have no distractions to blame my inability to articulate thoughts on. How is this even possible? My brain's always racing with endless thoughts, but when I come to throw them out here - everything just dissipates into thin air? It's taken me well over 12 hours, and I'm still editing this blog post for the gazillionth time instead of adding to it. Does that do something to explain where my mind's at? 

Maybe I should put set a limit on myself, like people do these one-take vlogs..I should do a 'one-take blog post' where I'm not allowed to 'proofread' - kind'a like how Twitter works. That's literally how I used to blog though, once upon a time. I would furiously type away, hit 'publish', then never read that post again. And that was therapeutic - what I do now is just stressful! So, what's changed? I almost want to put my laptop away and go work out, instead.

Oh, I lack consistency. Can you tell? I've been trying to force myself to be consistent with a lot of things these days, and I feel like following a mundane routine really helps. It also means I teeter between living life on 'auto-pilot' , and actually living in the moment. With kids, you need to live in the moment, I feel. I don't want to rob them of their childhood by having a robotic presence, if that makes sense. 

I'm also trying OH SO HARD to be mindful of my emotions. I don't think I've ever learnt to control them properly, and it makes me think it's also an ADHD thing..but could ADHD just be a scapegoat for my shortcomings? It's actually parenting that made me realize my control's whacked; how could I teach my boys to control their emotions, if I really don't have a handle on mine? I think adulting also involves a lot of self-realization, which is...fun....? For the lack of a better term.

Or is that just motherhood? You lose parts of yourself when catering to other's seemingly endless needs, and when you get a chance to put that on 'pause', you now have the chance to rediscover what you've turned into. It really is a blissful pause; I totally sympathize with parents who lost their shit when schools closed during lockdown. I also think kids need that healthy break away from their parents, to be able to grow. Too much comfort results in stagnation, right? Something like that. 

When thoughts get too overwhelming, I remind myself everything has already been planned by the best of Planners. This includes the uncertainty that comes with life - it's okay to relinquish control from time to time. I don't know where I was going with this, but a thought just popped into my head: I absolutely hate it when people ask me, 'what are you going to do now?' when they find out my boys are finally going to school. They make me doubt myself for wanting to take a well-deserved break after 8 long, anxiety-inducing years. I feel like they think I'm lazy, for opting not to throw myself into the workforce. 

The chores aren't going to do themselves, are they? I'm still running this household and making sure everyone's needs are being met, even if I'm not homeschooling my boys anymore. If I get an hour or 2 to myself during that time, why do I then feel so guilty for saying I'm 'unemployed'? It really gets to me - I've also been accused of not 'doing something' with my 'God-gifted talent', letting my mind be 'idle'. If only they could 'read' my mind for a minute - it's anything but idle! I would LIKE a quiet, idle moment or two..to be honest. "Why don't you publish something?" Yeah, like..would you pay to read my two cents on absolutely everything, nothing, and then some? 'So and so has done this or is doing that - why can't you?' Well, for starters - and a very cliche statement's about to follow - I'm not them, am I? I'm me, and I don't even know what 'me' is anymore...which is why I'm trying to find out but your as*holic, holier-than-thou self is out here telling me I 'need to give back to the community' and 'earn my cut'. 

It almost makes me feel like we now live in a world where you don't deserve to live, unless you have a paycheck. And that's a sickening thought, because to be employed..I'm going to have to employ others to do the unpaid work I do everyday at home. Given today's economy, it's very unlikely I'll even make enough to do so, so where would that leave me, then? Too exhausted to do anything whole-heartedly, really. So yes, I'd rather forego the 'benefits of a double-income household'...and if I'm going to be judged for it, so be it. 

It's funny how you can be a stay-at-home parent if you're rolling in millions, so to speak. You have all the household help you want, and you're considered the 'elite' as you spend your day spending the millions on 'self-love' and 'self-care'..regardless of whether or not you've made said-millions. The middle-class aims to be you, whilst struggling to balance work and family life. 

"I'm already struggling with my mental health - I don't need to add more on my plate right now", is probably what I should lead with...and end the discussion with, right?

I've absolutely struggled with, and abhorred being called 'lazy' during every stage of my life. What a shocker, ain't it? I've also done everything I've possibly could to overcompensate for it, but I think I'm just tired now. Mentally and emotionally, especially. If whether or not I bring money to the table is the deciding factor of how 'beneficial' I am to society, f*ck it. 'Lazy' and 'useless' I choose to be labeled. Almost terms of endearment really, if I get to live life on my terms. 

If anyone should benefit from my presence, it should be my loved ones. And if they aren't benefiting from it because I'm too tired trying to be beneficial to blood-sucking leeches? You get the idea. 

Right, we're done here for now. I already feel the repercussions of this post, but it had to be said. As I was writing this post, someone called me and casually asked if I have any plans of 'working outside' or 'from home'. For as long as I can manage, the answer is always going to be a flat 'no'. If this blog turns into something else, then we'll see where we go from there. 'Til then, I need to fill my own cup before I can fill anyone else's. And right now, we're using a dropper to fill a sieve...because people keep replacing the goddamn cup. It took EIGHT YEARS to get here - it's not even been one and a half month since my boys started school! What's the difference between these people and those who ask newlyweds when they're going to have a baby, a month into their marriage? Not much. They probably need to find a job that keeps them out of others' business. 

....Looks like we're on a roll here with this rant, eh? Well, it's time to 'find greener pastures'; I have less than an hour left to find something calming to do, so my babies don't return to find a momster. People and their undying curiosity, man. If only they actually put it to good use!

Until next time.

Shit-bricks

 Salaaaaaam Allah 'Alykm Readers, 

I always turn to this blog when my mind's in a turmoil. It was a lot easier to vent as a teenager, though. As a mother and wife, it's almost 'frowned upon' because 'why are you airing your dirty laundry?', right? Can I have two question marks like that, in a sentence? Lord Knows years of schooling my babies has a done a number to my brain. Not that I'm complaining - Alhamdulillah, I have the ability to do so amidst the colossal shit that hit the fan, and rained down over the world. It almost feels like I'm back in school all over again. 

It also makes me wary, the fact that someday my boys might find my blog online and read the mess I once was. 7yo is already reading like a champ, mashallah...& 5yo is getting there, Alhamdulillah. A mess, or a 'diamond in the rough'? Blekh. A bit narcissistic that, innit? But what about 'self-worth' and all that jazz? 

Where do you cross the fine line between 'self-love' and narcissism, I've always wondered?

It's funny how the unmarried cannot wait to get married, and live a 'blissfully married life', and the married look at them like, 'But you're already living a blissfully responsibility-free life, ya idiot!' I've been on both sides, and the grass truly looks greener when you feel like you're stuck in a pile of cow pat. An opportunist would turn the cow pat into an outdoor oven, and cook a meal. Or maybe even build a little hut. Lord Knows I've triiiied to 'look at the bright side', but it can be blinding. At least when you're a pessimist, you're prepared for the worst. You use the shit to build a wall around yourself, or at the very least...sling it over at those who try to mock you for being in it. 

Clearly, I do not know where I'm going with this post. 

I'm just writing to 'feel better'. I'm just trying to 'feel better' without 'airing my dirty laundry'. This reminds me of all the posts I'd written well past midnight, when I was procrastinating finishing university assignments and projects. Bittersweet memory, really. I used to be sitting on the floor of my parent's bedroom, with the LAN cable shoved into my ol' brick of a Dell laptop. It was funny - the freezing cold tiles were funnily offset by the laptop 'frying my ovaries' into oblivion. HAH! Clearly, that was a lie...judging from how fast we had our boys. 

Guilt. 

Always sitting on a mahoosive pile of it. Kinda like the afore-mentioned pile of shit, really. Like, 'me time' is never really 'ME time' - it's always 'gotta finish a chore or two, to have 'earned' this time..but then, before I know it..'me time' is up. ...Could I have published my 'work' and become an author, instead? Could I have had the 'upper hand', instead of being the 'stay at home parent, who has it 'easy'? It almost makes me want to chortle - 'easy'. 'Cos I don't have to 'face the outside world', I 'never leave my comfort zone'. What's so tough about 'being in your PJs all day, with no 'schedule' or 'deadlines' to meet, right?

I'm currently staring at an empty bottle on the floor. How hard is it to throw a bottle of water or juice into the recyling bin, after you're done? Clearly, it's almost impossible in this household. Wait..does this count as 'airing my dirty laundry'? Sorry, let's move on. My train of thoughts has been derailed by my 5yo, who's chosen to lie down next to me with his RockIt Twist. (A lovely gift for a kid aged 4-8, btw. Also, this is not an endorsement..I genuinely think it's an awesome 'replacement' for parents hell-bent on not getting their children a device. Props to us all, btw - it is HARD, in this day and age!) 

Sometimes, I think I need to prove my worth somehow. 

Then I think about how I don't 'owe it to anybody' - y'know? I look at my boys and think, 'they're proof I'm good enough...aren't I?' And that leads to another horrific cycle of 'OMG, I'm not narcisssistic..Am I?!' which leads to me chewing the hell out of my fingers. 

Yeah, for those of you who have known me since my 'troublesome teens', I still nail/finger-bite. Is that a thing - chewing the skin around the fingers and not really the nails? As gross as it sounds, I think I'll probably do it right to my deathbed. Not really a 'nail-biter' anymore, so that's kinda 'progress', right?

Is it too much to expect to be understood? 

I don't even want an apology at this rate - just the acknowledgment that - where sticks and stones may break my bones, your words are like a dagger repeatedly twisted in my heart...as cliché as that f**king is. Excuse my French, please. I try not to swear 'cos I'm a parent now and all that jazz, & they're supposed to make us better people. Am I really better than I was, though? I feel like someone's taken a club to my brain and heart, and played 'Brick Breaker'. Or 'Pinball'...between the two. Does that make any sense? It might not - it's been donkey's years since I played any games, after all.

I need to end this post, prematurely. Just like my babies were born. It's probably for the best, anyway. Remember what I said about 'guilt' and 'me-time'? Shit hits the fan when 'Mama goes MIA', or 'off-duty'. Never appreciated, nevertheless...it's my 'comfort zone' after all, right?

This little rant seems so out of place, especially when I think about all the people being displaced worldwide. 'There are bigger problems out there - stop being so self-centered all the time.' There's war and poverty, torment and death. I have it easy - 'first world problems', right?

May Allah have Mercy on us all, and Forgive us for our ingratitude. 

Feel free to drop a comment or two, Readers - it's been a hot minute. Some wisdomous words, if you will..'cos no matter how old I get, I'll always be the tumultous teen, when I started this blog. In my head, that is. Cannot be that in reality, 'cos I have expectations to live up to and some shit like that. 

Anyway, 'til next time - who knows? It might be sooner than later. Or never. 

Stay safe wherever you are, 

Was Salaam 'Alykm w Rahmatullahi T'ala w Barakateh

 

Knock, knock!

Salam Allah 3lykm, dearest readers!

Man, that last blog post was a tad bit depressive....and dramatic, might I add. I don't know, I feel like now that I'm 32 - to think I started this blog when I was in my teens..like whaaaat?! - I feel like I'm a smidge bit more mentally stable. 

Life's too short to waste it on being a Debbie Downer, innit? Probably also has a bit to do with not wanting to scar my boys for life too, you know? I want to raise 'happy chappies', if I can. Yes, amidst a pandemic - is that really too much to ask for?

By the way, this is a very old-school blog post - I'm just typing my thoughts out as they come to me. Also, now that my 6yo can read, Mashallah - I want to be able to put out less negativity out there in print form, in case he comes across it someday. That won't be anytime soon, though - that's for sure. Too tiny to be on the Internet on his lonesome. 

Also, you hear all about social media being a double-edged sword - it really is. I feel like ever since I've come out of a 'social media coma', I'm a lot less....edgier? Understandable, as I'm not teetering on the edge of a sword. I'm a lot more present and productive. 

Prioritize family and loved ones, and abstain from the fake, dopamine high of social media. That's my main goal during this lockdown. And to keep my boys' screen time minimal. Unless we're collectively watching classic cartoons as a family. Then, it's quite alright.

Also, minimize squabbles. If I have the option between throwing a hissy fit over absolutely nothing, and just getting shit done - then I'll opt for the latter, thank you very much. Peace of mind is crucial, and I'd rather not be the one robbing myself of it. I did a lot of that, which is probably what made me so miserable. 

Can I just say, I've made peace with the fact that some days are just for work, and those are the days I clock the best kind of sleep. I've also had to teach myself to see the beauty in doing things for others - that is the kind of dopamine hit social media is robbing US of!? All those endless and absolutely senseless debates on whether women should do stuff for men, and vice versa?? Nobody needs to see that crap, honestly. If you're a decent person, you'd help people regardless of your gender and theirs.

Right, my train of thoughts has been derailed by 4yo trying to fly his Super Wing's toy into my face, and the old me would lament over not getting enough time to myself. I've now realized that's just his way of wanting my time, and he deserves it. Now that I've brought structure into my family's lives by adjusting our sleep schedule, I get my 'me time' when they wind down for the night. So, this is rightfully 'their time' right now that I've infringed upon....

'Til next time, 

Stay safe, stay home.💖

O' Canada!

Salam Allah 3lykm,

I don't even know where to begin this crazy life update. I don't know how to phrase it into a sentence that won't cause tears to well up in my eyes. I don't know how long it will take, to accept this change as 'reality'. On April 23rd 2019, we officially left the UAE.

At the time, we thought we were just going for a month's vacation - I'd even packed for a month. It was going to be a break from the mundane routine I was stuck in, a breath of fresh air in a cold country, away from the heat and humidity I'd begun to loathe. I never in a million years thought I'd not return?!

Allah truly works in mysterious ways; had I known I was leaving UAE for good, it probably would've had an adverse affect on my mental health. I probably wouldn't have been able to say goodbye to those I miss everyday today. The empty promise, 'See you in a month' gave me hope. It told me that I wouldn't be leaving my comfort zone permanently. It was the safety net that would 'cushion' my fall. Little did I know...

There is no turning back - not for the next three years, at least. And I feel like I wouldn't want to uproot my children if we're settled by then, to have them live the life of an expat. It's a painfully bewildering life, one that has you take so many luxuries for granted. It makes me wonder, was it our ingratitude towards Allah, that resulted in this tumultuous change? 

It's dificult. It's difficult to hear my children say they miss home. They don't know that the UAE could never be home. It's not as simple as, 'home is where the heart is'. It's the biggest deception, yet. It's difficult to have to reply to their exasperated pleas to return home. It's confusing to be asked whether or not they'll ever get their toys again. It's heartbreaking to see them act out in frustration, over why 'we came so far in a plane from Abu Dhabi'.

I don't know if it gets easier with the passage of time. I don't know if I'll ever go to sleep and wake up with the sense of belonging to this land. I don't know if I'll ever stop the incessant comparison between....home and home. I don't know if I'll ever stop feeling that pang of guilt, everytime I look at my watch and realize the timing's been changed. I don't know if this gaping hole in my heart will ever be filled again. I don't know if I'll be able to look past the fact that people will not be able to understand my feelings, and that's okay.

People talk about a brighter future, but does it have to be at the cost of this state of utter confusion? They say that better days are ahead, but why do they have this looming tag of uncertainty? And how can it do one any good, to be so far away from the ones they love? How does one overcome the gloom of helplessness, that sets in at the inability of partaking in their happiness, or lessening their adversity?

All I know is, it's one hell of a challenge I've been dealt. It has me overwhelmed more than half the time, but what doesn't kill you..makes you stronger. I think of all the cliche 'Tumblr' quotes that can possibly come to mind, and even then I feel dejected. I feel like quotes are easier said than acted upon. 

Anyway, I'm tired of feeling so bummed out..which is why I resorted to blogging. I felt like once it's out of my system, I'd probably be able to muster up some positivity, and move on in life. There's no use dwelling on what could have happened. There are definitely a lot of milestones to look forward to, which I wouldn't have reached sitting in my comfort zone. 

May Allah make it easy for all of us to pass our trials in life. May Allah Guide us through the problems we're faced with, and may our Faith never falter. May we never be tempted by what's forbidden, and may we be safeguarded from the ploys of Eblees - Allahumma Ameen.

'Til the next time I fail to 'use the lemons' life throws at me, or the next time I need to sort my own head out - I'd like to leave you readers with one of my fave quotes..which I've probably already mentioned a couple of times around this blog:

"Allah Tests us with blessings, and Blesses us with tests."

A Dark Realm

Salam Allah 3lykm,

What a beautiful day to end my writer's block, with a dark and disturbing piece. How just like me, indeed. 21st Feb, 2019. Our 6th wedding anniversary. Well, it always was my dark side that worked best in writing. After all, this blog has only ever seen negativity. And surprisingly, I've only been able to write when at my worst.

Anyway, with no further ado, I leave you with my latest - 'A Dark Realm'.

PS. Don't try reading into what I write, or making sense of any of it. That's not why I do it. I do it, so people who can relate, know that they're not alone. I don't do it so they start speculating and spinning crap about my life. My writing and my life may or may not be linked - that's really of nobody's concern.

Is love worth it? Is it worth the stress, the anxiety, the pain? The endless suffering: quarrels, being driven insane. Is this what love is, to give and to give...to bleed your heart dry, yet rarely seeing eye to eye? Tell me then, what love isn't. Tell me it isn't a prison where you do the time for your crime, to be forgiven. Is it even guaranteed - a lifetime of bliss, if you pay heed?

"All that glitters isn't gold" - isn't that what we've been told? You see a smile upon a face, do you know what's hidden beneath the surface? You don't know the heart's turmoil, and are blissfully oblivious to the thoughts that boil..thoughts that scald the mind it their wake, feelings that are hard to place.

Words. It becomes increasingly difficult to make sense - everything is jumbled up, incoherent. When your heart and mind fight tooth and nail, you cannot help but watch yourself fail. Your babbling is a source of mockery - "It's not you, it's me."

Speak up! Be heard, Don't let them deem you absurd. Don't let them silence you with their ridicule, DON'T LET THOSE TEARS POOL...!!..in your eyes..stand UP and realize: it's THEM. Not you.

It was NEVER you.

Wes Salam 3lykm w R7matullahi T3ala w Barakateh 

Life Lessons

Salam Allah 3lykm, 

It's been too long. Mentally, I haven't been in the best of state these past few days. I'd actually put it down to motherhood; it doesn't work with me. And I don't care about those of you who will read this post, and find yet another thing to mock me over: you're irrelevant. The fact that you clicked on this link, just goes to show you're interested in what I have to say. Curiosity killed the cat, b*tch.

Anyway, long story short..(before the boys wake up, and derail my train of thoughts)...I wrote a poem on Thursday, just because when I reach the point where I have nothing to say to anyone anymore, I've realized it's poetry that gets me out of my funk. And writing. But mainly...poetry. It isn't anywhere near the pieces I have written before, but it did the job. Al7mdlla.

I leave you with, 'Life Lessons' (I couldn't really think of a title that fit, just one more thing my brain is now incapable of, after motherhood. If you guys come up with a befitting one, throw it down in the comments, please! Totally open to suggestions.)

I wasn't made for this world - it's something I've learned the hard way

Unfazed by materialism, to almost everyone's dismay

Crushed under societal standards, suffocated by countless expectations

Trying desperately to scramble on forward, facing resistance from all directions

I've had to put on a front, feigning interest in matters I couldn't care less about

Living life seems like just another stunt, I find myself dreaming a way out of

It's arduous to live as a disappointment, being drained of all your worth

A release would be Heaven-sent, an indemnity for my birth 

I don't know if it's actually finished or not, but this is where I decided to stop. 'Til the next time I need to sort my head out, 

As-Salam 3lykm w R7matullahi T3ala w Barakateh 

Is it really just ME?

Salam Allah 3lykm, 

I cannot remember the last time I sat down - without the boys whining by either side - to just vent out my frustrations on this poor, missed-but-never-forgotten blog. I remember I used to do lot of posts without any hesitation at all - just putting my scrambled thoughts into words. Now..I hit 'backspace' a lot more than I would like to.

An update on the boys: Eesa is going to be 4 in October, and Mansoor 2, Inshallah. We've all just been really caught up with viral and bacterial infections, since Sept 2017. Mansoor was hospitalized for six days, for pneumonia and an ear infection. I thought I'd actually manage to write whilst cooped up in a hospital room, but those days mainly consisted of a shit-load of diaper + outfit changes..and oh-SO-MANY-needles. He's a proper little trooper, though..Mashallah. Made it right through the war zone that his little body had turned into, Al7mdlla. 

I've forgotten what I sat down to write, because of all the intervals I've taken to sort the boys out. I cannot imagine what working mothers go through, especially those who actually manage to work from home. Home, where the little terrorists, also known as 'their offspring', reside. Motherhood's no joke. I still don't understand why some women willingly give up their freedom and sanity for it all. Or maybe it's just me - I never wanted to have kids to begin with. Do I want my children to know they weren't wanted? No, not really. I just feel like it's not them - it's me. I'm not cut out for this shit.

So, I finally have them settled down..sharing building blocks, instead of launching them at each other. A proud parental moment, I'd like to believe. I feel like whatever they are, is the result of R7mah, and my mother's prayers. I have nothing to do with their achievements; Eesa's nearly 4, yet still in diapers. That says enough. The boy is terrified of sitting on the toilet. 

Then I ask myself: if I'm not cut out for motherhood, then what is it that I'm meant to do? I don't know. I'm SO sick and tired of being told I'm 'wasting' my 'potential', my 'talent', my 'mind' - oh, PLEASE. What mind?! The one that's 'short-circuiting' because of all the shit it's been put through?! I suffer from anxiety now. That's what's new. Anxiety attacks.

Oh my God. I sound like a menopausal crone, but I seriously need to turn my life around..before it's too late. My only purpose in life cannot be laundry, and other mundane house chores that could easily be taken over by a maid. If I need to raise these boys into two, decent men, I need to have something to be able to escape to, once in a while...a 'safe haven'. 

My only concern is, am I the only one who thinks this way? Am I a monster, for not deeming my children worthy enough to be the purpose I live for? Motherhood is SO hard and frustrating. I read Instagram posts of other mothers, and they always mention how, 'It's all worth it'. Do they really never wish they'd embraced motherhood? Is it really just me?

And on that bombshell, I better stop writing. My 1 year old has climbed right under my chair, and has gotten himself stuck there. And even though I feel like I should leave him there to figure how to get out of there himself.......oh okay. Ice-cold slabs pawing my stomach right now. Guess someone got hungry trying to find his way out. 

'Til next time, or next year...considering my track record, 

Wes Salam 3lykm W R7matullahi T3aala w Barakateh

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?

Selfish

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 really..it 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 do....is 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'.

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'...as 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

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)

Feelings

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 will - doubt 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

Motherhood

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 takes..to 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, anyway...it 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!)..it 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

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 way..it'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 toddler...is 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

  

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

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

Solitude

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. Annnnyyyyywaaayyyy..here'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  

ADHD or Borderline Insane?

Salam Allah 3lykm,

It's been a while since I last blogged; people keep asking me why I've stopped blogging. I haven't; I've just lost all inspiration to write, to be quite honest. Anyway, here's a post for you guys..more like a rant diarrhea in thoughts-form.

I can't really say I enjoy life as it is; I feel like I'm stuck in a rut. I thought I'd be one of those dutiful wives, and I'd do whatever it takes to please my husband........no. It gets painstakingly difficult, because you end up being taken for granted. I can see why marriage is portrayed in such a negative light now, and as much as I try to push those statements away, they keep haunting me.

It could also just be Eblees, but then wait. Isn't he in chains right now? Ramadan has been quite difficult, in that sense. My internal battles are bloody and ever-so-draining. What's worse is, I've failed myself. I've failed my own expectations of what my marriage was to be like.

So, here's a tip for all you singletons: dream all you want, but don't confine yourself to expectations. There's no such thing as a perfect marriage; it takes a LOT of effort to make one work smoothly. I now see why it's termed, 'half the Deen'; after all, Deen is all about sacrifice. Marriage is all about that: sacrifice. 

Crazy ups-and-downs, worse than a roller-coaster. Being single was so much more easier; hell, I didn't even have to take care of myself, let alone anyone else. The ups are awesome, but the downs are just as bad; I'm still toying with the thought...whether or not the 'ups' are worth the 'downs'. 

Biggest problem is, I write to expel all negativity. To me, writing's always been therapy, but now..it's being looked like as a way to complain to the world. You cannot imagine how difficult it is for me not to write. If I had it my way, I'd have a new blog post out every other day, but now I need to think countless times, because I never know how my 'therapy' will be interpreted.

In fact, I don't know what to say or do anymore; I doubt everything. I think countless times before I make a move, because it could always be perceived wrong, leading to another argument. When I do explode from time to time - and it's been happening ever-so-frequently now - I think about it, and wonder how much damage has been done so far, and whether or not its reversible.

I feel absolutely hollowed out, and it's not even been 6 months, let alone a year. They say the first few years are the toughest; if so, here's praying I withstand them. I thought distance was the cause of all miscommunication; hell, living together doesn't make much of a difference, either.

Maybe it's because I suck at communication; maybe I should start writing letters, instead. I make a lot more sense when I write, than when I talk. Maybe I should abandon verbal communication all together...or maybe, just maybe..I should write the letters, then read 'em out, so my expressions and emotions can't be misread. I guess I'll start rehearsing beforehand, so I seem more confident about my stance. 

Honestly, I don't know. I don't know anything. Nothing seems to make sense; everything, including my thoughts..everything is doubtful.

Does a mid-20s crisis exist? If it does, then this just might be it. 

It's sad how we're never happy; those who are single, wish to be married; those who are married, wish they were single. I guess what we lack, is gratefulness. After all,

لَٮِٕن شَڪَرۡتُمۡ لَأَزِيدَنَّكُمۡ‌ۖ وَلَٮِٕن ڪَفَرۡتُمۡ إِنَّ عَذَابِى لَشَدِيدٌ۬  

  

Maybe that's just what this is; an answer to my ungratefulness. Maybe I need to take a rain-check; put everything else on hold, and 'check myself before I wreck myself'. See, I just don't know. I'm rethinking everything I type (except the Ayah, of course), literally caught between the crossfire of thoughts churning relentlessly in my mind. 

Overthinking, is it? I don't know. My mind should have come with a 'pause' button; you'd think I have ADHD after reading this post. It's so disorganized, exactly like my thoughts. Everything is scattered everywhere; I don't know what to process, and what not to process. 

Maybe it's not marriage at all, but it's me. Maybe my wrecked train of thoughts has shot my perception to hell. I don't know. It's just one hell of a tumultuous state of confusion, and it's exactly why I also fear writing thoughts down. 

If this isn't a mid-20s crisis, then is this what Insanity looks like? Am I staring Insanity in the eye, while it grasps me at the neck? I don't know.

Wes Salam 3lykm w R7matullahi T3aala w Barakateh

 

Split

Salam 3lykm,

Who reads this blog, anyway? It would be nice to hear from silent readers, if any. Anyway, I'm back with a poem; you won't understand it, so don't try to 'read between the lines'. It's just a depiction of my very scrambled thoughts, which I can't share with anyone, for the fear that..they might assume something is wrong.

Nothing's wrong; can't a married woman voice her doubts from time to time? I mean, that would ensure she wouldn't dwell on them, as they wouldn't be in her mind, then. Right? Am I making any sense? I don't know. I am to myself. I think.

We've all said this cliché sentence, or at least..thought it: I don't know who I am anymore. Maybe it's just all a part of 'growing up'; you inevitably change, whether you want to or not. Whether you realize it or not. Whether you try to stop it or not. 

Just..don't try to analyze what I'm trying to say 'between the lines', okay? Maybe I'm trying to scream something significant; maybe I'm not. Maybe it's just the remnants of what my brain cells have managed to squeeze out, after being abused by the junk I've relentlessly exposed them to. I don't know.

This is just another poem that makes no sense; read it, and think nothing of it. I leave you with, 'Split'.

Holding on to the fragments of my past
Fearing the worst, while faced by Reality
Some days find me steadfast
Whilst others threaten my sanity

I have failed to accept certain change
Resorting to a life of pretense
It sounds a lot more than just 'strange'
To some, it won't even make sense

Who is the stranger I see in the mirror everyday?
Does she have what was once mine?
Or is she the one who threw it all away
Whilst Reality deceptively drew its blinds?

Remember, don't try and analyze it..but feel free to leave a comment if you want to. Anonymously or not.

And if you want this blog to be updated a lot more frequently, let me know. I might just manage to start writing again. If not, let me know as well..but that won't stop me. Just sayin'.