My Declaration of Independence

I find myself pulling away, once dejected but now averse. Averse to the words that spill from your lips, like a bitter concoction made in the depths of a forest, by a quack. Averse to your actions that contradict said-words. 

It's almost laughable to me - I once craved your attention. Craved for a mere fleeting moment, thirsty for your affection. It was tainted, laced with self-loathing and deeply-set insecurities. 

It was never me, it was always you. 

I wish that had been as clear to me then as it is now. I diminished my worth, in a desperate attempt to highlight yours. I lost myself as I frantically tried to find my way to you. The more I sought clarity, the deeper I plunged into a blinding fog. 

You had me believe I was wrong in every single way, and couldn't do anything right. You had me believe I was the 'captor' who held the keys to your 'shackles'. You painted me in the ugliest brushstrokes, I was disgusted by my own reflection. 

Here's to breathing freely again. Here's to giving myself grace, and allowing myself to heal. 

You don't deserve me. You never did.

‐--‐---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm back. I should've never left, but...life. Don't read into this too much - we all know I'm a troll that crawled out from the abyss. 

Was Salaam Allah 3lykm w Ra7matullahi T3ala w Barakateh 

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?