“Men don’t like smart women that much; they intimidate them. and it’s even worse when they are smart strong women!”
I have heard that phrase from so many men so far, I am starting to think it’s agreed upon! I was surprised it was even said to me by my dad and my uncle, who are both smarter than their wives, yet not as happily married as one would expect given how wise they both are.
So to any guy who stumbles upon this post, let me know the truth here… stating your age would help!
October 28, 2007
October 23, 2007
On Nurseries in Egypt!!
So I’ve been planning to have bomba join a nursery but I’ve been too busy to do the research and find a proper place for him until it occurred to me that I can do that while sitting at home, or at least most of it anyways.
So here is a chat session between my sister Maat and I on that matter… enjoy!
me: fe had fel denia yessamy hadana: atfal bela hodood
Maat: loooool
eh dah ?!
me: why why why would they call a nursery Barbie
ya3ne ebny ye’ool ana fe Barbie!!!!
Maat: barbie ????????
no waaay! maybe it's a girls nursery ??!!!
me: lol, that would be even more freaky
i won't call them
tab ye2olo barbie we gijoe lol
bananas in pajamas!!!!!!
Maat: oh that's fun
bananas in pajamas is fun, call them up
me: i am writing the list men ala el yellow pages, then i will call
i am picking elly hawalaya ashan malefesh el sob7wana bawadeeh
beeso!!
Maat: beeso? de nursery /
la2 msh 7elwa
betfakarny b beesa, w beesa betfakarny b ayda ryad...
ya3333
me: lol aslan maktoob enaha fe share’ el nasr,
i am guessing it doesn't even have a play ground
i will call aslan kol elly hawalaya,
elly hasterayahlohom over the phone, i will personally check them out
Maat: yeah that's a good idea
me: fe had yesamy hadana cheers ashan yetla3o sokareya
Maat: looool
me: at least that's what my mind wandered to
Maat: hey that's actually not so bad a name
me: it’s not really, i personally like it…
Maat: enta fein ya bomba
ana f cheers, he would say "tstheers"
me: lol
tom & Jerry kids al amerekeya,
do i get special discount cause bomba looks like jerry
Maat: bomba doesnt look like jerry anymore, he looks meaner
me: heeey is it weird that i don't like el hadana cause esmaha tip top
i remember walking by it bas mesh fakra fein
Maat: tip top is better than beeso
me: lol
Maat: okay,u checked kidiology sah ?
me: yep, earlier... but didn't check if they still have room for him after ramadan
i don't think it would be a problem tho
Maat: i like the name a lot!!!
me: now i like how this one sounds: Granny’s
easy to pronounce for bomba and sounds homey
Maat: granny’s is cozy yeah,where's that
me: in maadi,in my area of preference kaman!!
fakra el hadana elly kanet fe share’ wahib doos?
kanet fe villa
now i really liked that one, too bad it's no longer there
Maat: so where exactly is kidiology?
me: nirco
esma3y de: dIcky duck, lol
Maat: ya3ny eh
me: maktooba keda in arabic letters
ديكي داك
Maat: looooool
loooooooool
this is baad!!
me: i suppose they meant ducky duck
which isn't that much better if u ask me
Maat: it's..... dumb.... DUMB and baaad
me: seriously, ppl should give those things more thought...
kids are messed up already
and they should not name them gender biased names
Maat: poor kids
me: sadeeq al tefl barney!!!!
Maat: loooooooooooooooool
that's a name ???????
sadeeq el tefl barney ?
again i raise the question..
what about those with a slightly weak "qaf" ?
w ba3den aslan el 3eyal de msh bete3raf tetkalem awy
me: yeah, that's the problem
Too bad Maat was disconnected before I told her about some of the feedbacks I got over the phone… will share them later!!
October 23, 2007
So here is a chat session between my sister Maat and I on that matter… enjoy!
me: fe had fel denia yessamy hadana: atfal bela hodood
Maat: loooool
eh dah ?!
me: why why why would they call a nursery Barbie
ya3ne ebny ye’ool ana fe Barbie!!!!
Maat: barbie ????????
no waaay! maybe it's a girls nursery ??!!!
me: lol, that would be even more freaky
i won't call them
tab ye2olo barbie we gijoe lol
bananas in pajamas!!!!!!
Maat: oh that's fun
bananas in pajamas is fun, call them up
me: i am writing the list men ala el yellow pages, then i will call
i am picking elly hawalaya ashan malefesh el sob7wana bawadeeh
beeso!!
Maat: beeso? de nursery /
la2 msh 7elwa
betfakarny b beesa, w beesa betfakarny b ayda ryad...
ya3333
me: lol aslan maktoob enaha fe share’ el nasr,
i am guessing it doesn't even have a play ground
i will call aslan kol elly hawalaya,
elly hasterayahlohom over the phone, i will personally check them out
Maat: yeah that's a good idea
me: fe had yesamy hadana cheers ashan yetla3o sokareya
Maat: looool
me: at least that's what my mind wandered to
Maat: hey that's actually not so bad a name
me: it’s not really, i personally like it…
Maat: enta fein ya bomba
ana f cheers, he would say "tstheers"
me: lol
tom & Jerry kids al amerekeya,
do i get special discount cause bomba looks like jerry
Maat: bomba doesnt look like jerry anymore, he looks meaner
me: heeey is it weird that i don't like el hadana cause esmaha tip top
i remember walking by it bas mesh fakra fein
Maat: tip top is better than beeso
me: lol
Maat: okay,u checked kidiology sah ?
me: yep, earlier... but didn't check if they still have room for him after ramadan
i don't think it would be a problem tho
Maat: i like the name a lot!!!
me: now i like how this one sounds: Granny’s
easy to pronounce for bomba and sounds homey
Maat: granny’s is cozy yeah,where's that
me: in maadi,in my area of preference kaman!!
fakra el hadana elly kanet fe share’ wahib doos?
kanet fe villa
now i really liked that one, too bad it's no longer there
Maat: so where exactly is kidiology?
me: nirco
esma3y de: dIcky duck, lol
Maat: ya3ny eh
me: maktooba keda in arabic letters
ديكي داك
Maat: looooool
loooooooool
this is baad!!
me: i suppose they meant ducky duck
which isn't that much better if u ask me
Maat: it's..... dumb.... DUMB and baaad
me: seriously, ppl should give those things more thought...
kids are messed up already
and they should not name them gender biased names
Maat: poor kids
me: sadeeq al tefl barney!!!!
Maat: loooooooooooooooool
that's a name ???????
sadeeq el tefl barney ?
again i raise the question..
what about those with a slightly weak "qaf" ?
w ba3den aslan el 3eyal de msh bete3raf tetkalem awy
me: yeah, that's the problem
Too bad Maat was disconnected before I told her about some of the feedbacks I got over the phone… will share them later!!
October 23, 2007
October 18, 2007
Trying so hard to remain positive here…
There was a time I would have gotten angry; I promise, you would have almost seen fire in my eyes and smoke coming out of my ears…
I would have cursed and cursed, kicked the floor, and then broke into angry tears when I found that my anger is not changing a thing…
And when I had gotten just a little bit less angry, I would have started thinking “WHY do bad things happen to good people? Why do assholes always get their way?” (questions that led to serious faith crisis at a time)… I would keep asking myself that without any real answers, probably because the question wasn’t well structured to start with…
I would have even promised not to be good if that meant I would have my way… (I have actually proven that I am a complete failure when it comes to being mo’zeya)…
Those were my angry times… when I used to get angry at all my surroundings and even myself… I still get angry, I do… I think I just learned how to control it for I have come very close to knowing why wrath is one of the seven deadly sins… Anger IS dangerous… it cost me too many things, but I think it cost me things I didn’t really have to begin with.
There is more to the angry me, I just think it needs more space… and I am not ready to disclose that much for now…
NOW… when the same things that used to make me angry happen, I remember what my uncle once told me when I asked him how to manage my anger “say: a3otho b’Ellah men al shytan el rajeem, etwaddy we sally, ala be thekr Ellah tatma’en al koloob”… sometimes I am in a situation where I can’t pray at the very moment, so I keep saying du’aa and mean them….
Back in my angry days, I would have told myself that mere du’aa words will not take away the injustice, but now I think I know better… I think I needed to have more faith to believe that there is a reason things like that happen, and that they will take the time God intends for them to take, and all I have to do is keep my faith, be patient (a virtue that I am trying so hard to learn), and do my best not to do or say things that would make me less deserving of whatever good that awaits me…
I tell myself that whatever unfairness I may be subjected to is well deserved for all the angry times, I tell myself that if that’s the way I would make up with God, then I am willing to take it… a good friend of mine once told me “enty rabena beyeghselek, so khody thawab and be patient, it is worth it… being patient is hard, you know el sabr morr; this is why esmo sabr, from sabbar… don’t worry, it will be over soon, just khody thawab el sabr until it is”… thank you friend.
So now, with all that is to come, I tell myself this: he cannot harm me… he can try, and I may think he did for a while for he will gloat about it and probably even celebrate it… for a while… until all my dues are paid I guess… but I believe I will not lose, I will not lose the things that matter, for since I have come to my senses, I have only acted with good intent and that can never go unrewarded… I may not be able to see the reward, but if I can’t see it, I won’t let myself be blinded again by the injustice I may feel.
Let this be something for me to read over and over when it gets tougher and harder to handle, for I know it will… I won’t hide my fears; I will face them, and I will try to be patient… I will keep reminding myself that life isn’t unfair; we make it that way when we are unfair to one another and to ourselves, so I will remain fair and I will stick to whatever values I have…
On another note, this should have been my 5 year anniversary… bala kheiba :)
October 18, 2007
I would have cursed and cursed, kicked the floor, and then broke into angry tears when I found that my anger is not changing a thing…
And when I had gotten just a little bit less angry, I would have started thinking “WHY do bad things happen to good people? Why do assholes always get their way?” (questions that led to serious faith crisis at a time)… I would keep asking myself that without any real answers, probably because the question wasn’t well structured to start with…
I would have even promised not to be good if that meant I would have my way… (I have actually proven that I am a complete failure when it comes to being mo’zeya)…
Those were my angry times… when I used to get angry at all my surroundings and even myself… I still get angry, I do… I think I just learned how to control it for I have come very close to knowing why wrath is one of the seven deadly sins… Anger IS dangerous… it cost me too many things, but I think it cost me things I didn’t really have to begin with.
There is more to the angry me, I just think it needs more space… and I am not ready to disclose that much for now…
NOW… when the same things that used to make me angry happen, I remember what my uncle once told me when I asked him how to manage my anger “say: a3otho b’Ellah men al shytan el rajeem, etwaddy we sally, ala be thekr Ellah tatma’en al koloob”… sometimes I am in a situation where I can’t pray at the very moment, so I keep saying du’aa and mean them….
Back in my angry days, I would have told myself that mere du’aa words will not take away the injustice, but now I think I know better… I think I needed to have more faith to believe that there is a reason things like that happen, and that they will take the time God intends for them to take, and all I have to do is keep my faith, be patient (a virtue that I am trying so hard to learn), and do my best not to do or say things that would make me less deserving of whatever good that awaits me…
I tell myself that whatever unfairness I may be subjected to is well deserved for all the angry times, I tell myself that if that’s the way I would make up with God, then I am willing to take it… a good friend of mine once told me “enty rabena beyeghselek, so khody thawab and be patient, it is worth it… being patient is hard, you know el sabr morr; this is why esmo sabr, from sabbar… don’t worry, it will be over soon, just khody thawab el sabr until it is”… thank you friend.
So now, with all that is to come, I tell myself this: he cannot harm me… he can try, and I may think he did for a while for he will gloat about it and probably even celebrate it… for a while… until all my dues are paid I guess… but I believe I will not lose, I will not lose the things that matter, for since I have come to my senses, I have only acted with good intent and that can never go unrewarded… I may not be able to see the reward, but if I can’t see it, I won’t let myself be blinded again by the injustice I may feel.
Let this be something for me to read over and over when it gets tougher and harder to handle, for I know it will… I won’t hide my fears; I will face them, and I will try to be patient… I will keep reminding myself that life isn’t unfair; we make it that way when we are unfair to one another and to ourselves, so I will remain fair and I will stick to whatever values I have…
On another note, this should have been my 5 year anniversary… bala kheiba :)
October 18, 2007
October 17, 2007
Mixed emotions
It got ugly.
I cried, I begged, I prayed, and then I cried some more… he felt his strength and he was stupid to push even more…
I tried to sleep, but instead, I hallucinated for a couple of hours -if not less- until my dad walked in the room and asked me to join him in the living room…
As I was waking up, the vibration of my cell phone disturbed me again, it was him… I answered… he asked why I haven’t been answering the past hours I said “ta’bana” in a very exhausted voice… he said “we lama enty mesh ad fighting with me, why do u do it… don’t you get it, you will only get hurt”… I found nothing to say, what’s the point anyway!!
My dad walked in again, asked me if it was him, I nodded, he said in a voice loud enough for him to hear “hang up with him, mafeesh kalam khalas, feeh mahakem, howa daya’ forset el zoo2”… I hesitated, and then hung up…
I am scared… this is a desperate man, he wants to cause harm, and for all I care he is capable of it… not necessarily by actions, words cause more harm, at least to me… and his words, well they scar me… it’s hard to admit, but they do… they will keep echoing in my head till I go insane or something…
Why did he push so hard? Why does it seem like he wants to break me? I don’t care what he does with his life; I just want him out of mine… I am tired…
Now two days have passed, and I am not to answer any of his calls… and boy does he keep calling…
Every time I hear his ring tone (khasara 3aleik for Souad Massi), my stomach clenches… I silence the phone. All my system blocks for a while; my eyes get blurry and my head gets clouded with thoughts and I shake my head so hard but my neck kinda hurts. Actually my physical state sucks these days, I even started having those marks I get when I am upset… great!!!
I feel too many emotions; hate, fear, anger, resentment, anxiety, helplessness, weakness, restlessness… and now as I read his more polite / less offensive messages I feel pity!!
Yes, I feel sorry for him (despite the strong hate and anger)… I feel sorry because I can no longer have any good feelings for him… I feel sorry I will no longer talk myself into forgiving him for he wasted all the chances I tried giving…
He mistook my kindness for weakness, and I am no longer capable of being kind; it’s out of my hands now… I am scared of what will come, I really am!
I cried, I begged, I prayed, and then I cried some more… he felt his strength and he was stupid to push even more…
I tried to sleep, but instead, I hallucinated for a couple of hours -if not less- until my dad walked in the room and asked me to join him in the living room…
As I was waking up, the vibration of my cell phone disturbed me again, it was him… I answered… he asked why I haven’t been answering the past hours I said “ta’bana” in a very exhausted voice… he said “we lama enty mesh ad fighting with me, why do u do it… don’t you get it, you will only get hurt”… I found nothing to say, what’s the point anyway!!
My dad walked in again, asked me if it was him, I nodded, he said in a voice loud enough for him to hear “hang up with him, mafeesh kalam khalas, feeh mahakem, howa daya’ forset el zoo2”… I hesitated, and then hung up…
I am scared… this is a desperate man, he wants to cause harm, and for all I care he is capable of it… not necessarily by actions, words cause more harm, at least to me… and his words, well they scar me… it’s hard to admit, but they do… they will keep echoing in my head till I go insane or something…
Why did he push so hard? Why does it seem like he wants to break me? I don’t care what he does with his life; I just want him out of mine… I am tired…
Now two days have passed, and I am not to answer any of his calls… and boy does he keep calling…
Every time I hear his ring tone (khasara 3aleik for Souad Massi), my stomach clenches… I silence the phone. All my system blocks for a while; my eyes get blurry and my head gets clouded with thoughts and I shake my head so hard but my neck kinda hurts. Actually my physical state sucks these days, I even started having those marks I get when I am upset… great!!!
I feel too many emotions; hate, fear, anger, resentment, anxiety, helplessness, weakness, restlessness… and now as I read his more polite / less offensive messages I feel pity!!
Yes, I feel sorry for him (despite the strong hate and anger)… I feel sorry because I can no longer have any good feelings for him… I feel sorry I will no longer talk myself into forgiving him for he wasted all the chances I tried giving…
He mistook my kindness for weakness, and I am no longer capable of being kind; it’s out of my hands now… I am scared of what will come, I really am!
October 16, 2007
Another quote…
“some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall”
William Shakespeare, Measure for measure, Act 2, Scene 1
October 16, 2007
October 13, 2007
El Eid farha… family tradition!!
So I’ve been meaning to blog about that for some time, I just keep getting busy with my eventful life (bala kheiba).
I know all families have their own traditions when it comes to celebrating el eid as well as other occasions, but I kinda think my dad’s family has the weirdest of traditions. I have two sisters and two cousins whom I know will read this and will totally agree with me.
So here is how we spend el eid every year since my late grandpa died when I was about 8 years old. We’d have leave for Alexandria two days before el eid, have iftar at my aunt’s where my dad would leave my sisters and I with our cousins, take my aunt and uncle to visit their aunt and their cousins (which is ok). Afterwards, they go visit my other aunt (their sister) who lives in Miami and who is expected to visit us on the day of the eid, then come and pick us up after midnight.
On the day of eid, my dad would wake us up pretty early where we have to deal with mama’s hysteria and his intolerable bossy attitude and help with preparation of food and such, then we get dressed and sit still waiting for people to start coming while he keeps calling his brother and sisters (at home, back when there were no cell phones) urging them to hurry up and sometimes even yell at them in the spirit of eid.
Once all is here: a total of 3 aunts, an uncle and their sons and daughters (I excluded an aunt and 2 uncle who tend to be unavailable most of the time), we have lunch, which is usually renga (don’t ask), and after the tea, beverages and fruits, people start getting restless.
Here is the tradition, my uncle and his family would have to leave so that they can be home, when everyone who is already here starts visiting!! Yes, everyone means, us, and my other three aunts and their families!!! I KNOW, we were just together, heck we still are, but NO, each brother/sister has to receive the whole family at his/her place. So after uncle is visited, you’d find my other aunt (whom we had not visited two days before eid) rushing to the door so that she can make her home ready for visitors!!
And so we spend the first day of eid racing the streets of Alexandria in the midst of the eid traffic. Crazy I know; this is why my cousins and my sisters attempted more than once to talk some sense into our parents. Apparently, they thought it was disrespectful and irresponsible of us to think that it would make more sense for the whole family to gather at one place. They kept asking which brother and which sister would host this gathering. We suggested it would be my father since our place is big enough, but then they argued that our place is in Agamy, which is around 15 kilos away from Alex. YA SALAM, maho keda keda we spend the whole day going back and forth, let alone that at each home we have the same tea, ka7k and other eid treats!!!
We even suggested that each year someone would host the eid, this way all of them would have the honor, they said it was crazy because they would have to fight each year on who will be the host. We finally suggested that we would divide those visits on the three days of eid, and there came the ultimately annoying response: “la, khaleeha 3al2a wa7da”…. Tab lamma heya 3al2a, betakhdooha leeeeeeeeh!!!
It is just…. I am not sure there is even a word to describe it, so I won’t. This year, my sisters and I took a leave of absence due to my situation, so we only did our roles as hosts. But my guess is tomorrow, we will visit aunt H before we leave back to my beloved Cairo.
It no longer matters much to me where I spend my eid. I used to whine about not being to spend the first day with my late nana, or hang our with D or just stay home with the husband… nana died five years ago, D is in the states for the next couple of years and well, I don’t wanna see the husband.
I guess my eid just got better since I have nothing else that I’d rather do. I am thankful though. Happy Eid to all of you people out there who do not have such crazy traditions.
October 13, 2007
I know all families have their own traditions when it comes to celebrating el eid as well as other occasions, but I kinda think my dad’s family has the weirdest of traditions. I have two sisters and two cousins whom I know will read this and will totally agree with me.
So here is how we spend el eid every year since my late grandpa died when I was about 8 years old. We’d have leave for Alexandria two days before el eid, have iftar at my aunt’s where my dad would leave my sisters and I with our cousins, take my aunt and uncle to visit their aunt and their cousins (which is ok). Afterwards, they go visit my other aunt (their sister) who lives in Miami and who is expected to visit us on the day of the eid, then come and pick us up after midnight.
On the day of eid, my dad would wake us up pretty early where we have to deal with mama’s hysteria and his intolerable bossy attitude and help with preparation of food and such, then we get dressed and sit still waiting for people to start coming while he keeps calling his brother and sisters (at home, back when there were no cell phones) urging them to hurry up and sometimes even yell at them in the spirit of eid.
Once all is here: a total of 3 aunts, an uncle and their sons and daughters (I excluded an aunt and 2 uncle who tend to be unavailable most of the time), we have lunch, which is usually renga (don’t ask), and after the tea, beverages and fruits, people start getting restless.
Here is the tradition, my uncle and his family would have to leave so that they can be home, when everyone who is already here starts visiting!! Yes, everyone means, us, and my other three aunts and their families!!! I KNOW, we were just together, heck we still are, but NO, each brother/sister has to receive the whole family at his/her place. So after uncle is visited, you’d find my other aunt (whom we had not visited two days before eid) rushing to the door so that she can make her home ready for visitors!!
And so we spend the first day of eid racing the streets of Alexandria in the midst of the eid traffic. Crazy I know; this is why my cousins and my sisters attempted more than once to talk some sense into our parents. Apparently, they thought it was disrespectful and irresponsible of us to think that it would make more sense for the whole family to gather at one place. They kept asking which brother and which sister would host this gathering. We suggested it would be my father since our place is big enough, but then they argued that our place is in Agamy, which is around 15 kilos away from Alex. YA SALAM, maho keda keda we spend the whole day going back and forth, let alone that at each home we have the same tea, ka7k and other eid treats!!!
We even suggested that each year someone would host the eid, this way all of them would have the honor, they said it was crazy because they would have to fight each year on who will be the host. We finally suggested that we would divide those visits on the three days of eid, and there came the ultimately annoying response: “la, khaleeha 3al2a wa7da”…. Tab lamma heya 3al2a, betakhdooha leeeeeeeeh!!!
It is just…. I am not sure there is even a word to describe it, so I won’t. This year, my sisters and I took a leave of absence due to my situation, so we only did our roles as hosts. But my guess is tomorrow, we will visit aunt H before we leave back to my beloved Cairo.
It no longer matters much to me where I spend my eid. I used to whine about not being to spend the first day with my late nana, or hang our with D or just stay home with the husband… nana died five years ago, D is in the states for the next couple of years and well, I don’t wanna see the husband.
I guess my eid just got better since I have nothing else that I’d rather do. I am thankful though. Happy Eid to all of you people out there who do not have such crazy traditions.
October 13, 2007
On wanting to lose it…
I no longer wanna sit in my room crying silently until I am somewhat tired and sleepy.
This is a time when I hate being too much of the strong willed optimist I keep telling myself I am to just fall apart and have my own nervous breakdown.
There was a time I thought hysteria and depression could help, now every time I am about to hit either, I hear that voice at the back of my head reminding me how it only made things worse for me.
To sum things up, I wish I could just break down and cry and get the right response for once. I don’t know what it is, but it definitely isn’t a pat on the shoulder, a cry along or a cheap “I know how you feel”. I miss D, I really do. and somehow it feels my nana died all over again, and I lost touch with K all over again.
October 13, 2007
This is a time when I hate being too much of the strong willed optimist I keep telling myself I am to just fall apart and have my own nervous breakdown.
There was a time I thought hysteria and depression could help, now every time I am about to hit either, I hear that voice at the back of my head reminding me how it only made things worse for me.
To sum things up, I wish I could just break down and cry and get the right response for once. I don’t know what it is, but it definitely isn’t a pat on the shoulder, a cry along or a cheap “I know how you feel”. I miss D, I really do. and somehow it feels my nana died all over again, and I lost touch with K all over again.
October 13, 2007
October 9, 2007
Just to sum things up…
“I am a lousy person; I am too opinionated and I am blunt about it for any guy to handle, let alone a husband. I am provocative in a way that I can tell when someone is lying, yet I choose to let them know I am on to them rather than let it slide and pretend it never happened. I am also too stubborn, and when I am right I get even more stubborn and refuse to compromise; it’s all or nothing, even if I end up with nothing.”
This is how I wrecked my marriage, they say.
“A wise woman should never let her husband know that she’s on to him; she should keep a mask face and pretend to be the weaker one, but she must know that it’s her responsibility to be the strong one who makes the marriage work. She should wake up early in the morning, prepare breakfast, be all smiley and shiny and wish her husband a good day at work, until he’s back, she is to clean up, prepare a nice meal and think of more things she can do to make him a happy happy person when he’s back. When he’s back home, she should welcome him warmly, if he’s grumpy, she should not bother him more, she should let him be if he’d rather be alone or try to cheer him up if he could use some cheering up. She should never complain the he doesn’t spend time with her, who needs men anyways?! Yet somehow, if he asks her to join him and his friends out, she should make him proud by looking nice, speaking intellectually; however, without making him sound less intellectual.”
I won’t say I did it all, I learned how to cook his favorite meals (including Daany that I can’t even stand its smell), cleaned up as much as I could (I am a messy person by nature), used to prepare him whatever little surprise I could think of on daily basis, ran to the door for a daily welcome-back hug, left him for hours with his pc when he did not want to be interrupted, and sat and heard him through when he needed to vent. When we went out I made him proud; his friends never complained about me being a drag or them having to act in a certain way because of me. I did however complain I never spent enough time. I did complain about spending the whole day home alone since most of my friends were also busy with their lives.
“You should have kids you know; once you do, they will keep you busy.”
But I did not want kids, I thought 21 was too young to be a mother. I thought I was a child myself and the responsibility of being married had secretly overwhelmed me and scared the crap out of me. I wanted to have kids when I was ready for it, not to fill my time.
“Well, you should work then, work will build character and will show you that there is more to the world than being home waiting for your hubby. You will earn your own money and it will feel much better than getting your allowance”
So I worked. It was my first job away from my father and his company. I made friends at work easily, and learned how to do my job fast enough that my trainer and my supervisor were impressed. Work was 40 minutes away from home on an average day, yet I didn’t complain until I found that I started slacking at home. No more warm daily meals, no more fancy things to work on, just the weekly clean up and two home cooked meals at most. Did not get any complains in that matter though.
Two years passed that way and I had no clue he missed the meals because every time I apologized for it and asked him if he wanted me to quit so that he can have things the way they were, he smiled and said it was ok and we were both happy. We’d stop at each other’s offices for a surprise lunch or drink. He’d come on my birthday and I would take the day off for his birthday. Everyone I knew, including me believed I had the perfect marriage and the most understanding and supportive husband.
I got pregnant, I thought I was ready and he was eager to be a daddy. He was doing his masters meanwhile, and both of our jobs were stable. Pregnancy sucked for that matter, I did not suffer from nausea; I just wanted to sleep all the time and got terrible headaches when I couldn’t. As it turned out, I am hypertensive and I had to deal with it until the first trimester was over, then I was on medication that didn’t help much anyways.
I could no longer handle pressure at work; started losing my temper all the time and I remember I even yelled at a colleague whom I really liked for trying to cheer me up. Eventually, I made the decision of quitting to rest at home and prepare myself and my surrounding for the new comer since I wanted to be a stay-home mommy anyways.
I was six months pregnant when his dad died. I was there every minute of his day so that he would talk to me if he needed to. Instead of staying home and trying to rest like the doctor said, I used to drive him everywhere because I was afraid he’d drive on his own. I used to wait for him in the car in the midst of June when I couldn’t join. I even agreed to leave my home, which I pretty much loved and move with his grandma and his aunt so that he wouldn’t spend hours driving back and forth when they need him. I spent my last month of pregnancy packing and unpacking, sitting in an empty apartment as it was being maintained to embarrassed to sit in a comfy way and had to suffer from swollen ankles and backaches. I never complained.
I gave birth and had to deal with his I-am-all-freaked-out-because-I-am-a-daddy-now, he would spend nights with me in the hospital seeing how I couldn’t breathe, and tell me that I am making a big deal out of it and that a c-section is meant to be easier than natural birth.
I had to do further surgeries once my son turned 6 months since my troubles breathing and painful stomachaches were due to gall bladder stones, not me faking pain for more attention as he suggested. My doctor asked him how he did not notice that I was in that much pain for six months, he said I barely complained once the pain was gone.
I have to say that all through the time since I moved to his family’s (two days before my c-section), I barely cooked since it was either my son or my pain or my cleaning up the little space I had. It was his aunt who did the cooking and I would try to help by doing grocery shopping when I was out or do some minor things in the kitchen to make it easier for her.
Shortly after my surgery, I was chatting on his laptop with a childhood friend who lives abroad and she kept talking about her private life, so after finishing up with her, I though I would delete the chat log to make sure no secrets would be out. I found his own chat log with his girlfriend whom he’d known all through my pregnancy.
I called him in tears and asked him to tell me the truth. He came home and started yelling at me for looking through his files and using his laptop to begin with. He tried to tell lies but couldn’t; every lie he made fell apart against my logic. He finally confessed and I cried a lot more.
He begged me to not leave. He knew I would. I thought I would. For some reason I didn’t. He said he’d do whatever I want if it’s a divorce I wanted and that he would never force me to live with him if I no longer wanted; however, if I decided to stay he would do whatever it took to make it up to me. I kept crying not knowing what to do. I thought it was easy to walk away, but I chose not to. I loved him, yet I couldn’t forgive him.
It went downhill from there. He could always see that look in my eyes, even when I smiled, even when we joked about anything. In our fights, I tried never to bring it up, but sometimes he just had it coming saying all the things that would give me no choice but to mention it. We both tried, but he couldn’t really make it up and I couldn’t forgive him. I couldn’t hear him say he loved me without wondering if those words meant anything anymore; he told her he loved her and then said it meant nothing, so was it just something he’d say to sound sophisticated? Whatever the answer was, those words lost their meaning; if anything they were a painful reminder that would fill my eyes with tears.
I traveled for a week with my family and my son hoping that spending a couple of days away would make me miss him, and it did. I was touched that he came to the airport for I knew he would normally count on my dad’s driver to pick us up. And just when the ice started melting, I got pregnant again. It was my time to freak out and start crying. I believe in abortion, I just don’t know if it’s ok to do it from a religious point of view, so I kept crying wishing the best would happen.
My best friend thought I was déjavu-ing when I told her he was different around my sixth month of pregnancy. She told me he would never do that to me again. She said it was because of my hormones and my insecurities. I listened to her because I was afraid I’d trust my instincts and act in a way that would be unfair to him.
Around the time I started thinking happy thoughts and started being all bubbly and shiny despite how beano and the pregnancy were killing me, he had that business trip with a female colleague of his whom I had met early in my pregnancy. I had no formed opinion of her since he would only mention her to make fun of the way she talks.
That’s her. How it all started, I’ve heard different stories from him and I no longer know or care what the truth is. I guess it’s still too raw for me to talk about the two of them without feeling that pain. It’s not just her; it’s the time he chose to do that to me, it’s how he did it and it’s all the pain he caused in the process. It’s him blaming it all on me saying that I had it coming.
I stopped defending myself, I even apologized for all the things he’d blown out of proportion to make it sound like it was all me, but I couldn’t understand why he never left if I was that horrible. All I did the first time when I didn’t leave was ask him to leave me before ever doing any of that to me again.
I know I haven’t been perfect for the past couple of years. I know sometimes my resentment showed and I won’t blame him for it, I will just say that being unable to forgive is who I am, and it’s not like he’s much of a forgiving person himself to judge me. I know I can be hard to handle at times, I know all my flaws and I always try to make up for them to those I care about.
However, at the end of the day, I refuse to be blamed for his infidelity; it was his choice, there was a moment when he could have chosen to not start that affair, there were even more moments when he could have chosen to nib it in the bud, only he didn’t. Moreover, he chose to hurt and humiliate me in the process, and that’s even harder for me to forgive.
Yes, I left home to the hospital in order to give birth to my mocha, and since then I haven’t been back. But that was never my home. I left my home the day I agreed to move with his family to make his life easier. If it had been my home, he would have never took away the keys or changed the lock after he returned them, he would have never told his aunt to not let me in when I went to pick my stuff. If it were my home, I would have never left.
So back to the sum up I started the post with. Yes, I am an opinionated uncompromising person who has zero tolerance for lying and who would call you on it. This is who I am, but I know for sure I am worth it for I am capable of giving as much back, and even more; so I will not apologize for who I am.
“The wise wife should bear the full responsibility of keeping the marriage intact no matter what. She should overlook all her husband’s flaws and mistakes as long as he supports well financially and apologizes every now and then for the times he’s weak. She should never leave her home and should always forgive her husband for all men are meant to make mistakes since they are weak creatures. The wise wife should befriend any woman she thinks is after her husband, so that to prove her existence and eliminate that of anyone else’s. The good wife should always make her husband feel needed, wanted, and loved even when she can’t stand to look at his face and see his cheating eyes. The good wife should put her husband and her family first, for that’s her purpose in life.”
I’ve heard all that and more… if that’s what a good wife is, then I am a terrible one. I refuse to be the only one caring for this marriage. I would gladly overlook his flaws if they are tolerable and if he has qualities that overweigh them, but I would refuse to overlook betrayal. I refuse to stay in a home where I constantly feel like a guest. I refuse to forgive him for a mistake he had repeated knowing the consequences and I refuse to think that all men are weak that way. I refuse to befriend someone who wants my husband, if she wants him; she can have him if he lets her, for I would never fight for someone who would want to be taken. My love and my feelings are genuine; I refuse to fake them when I don’t feel them. And finally, I refuse to believe that my sole purpose in life is to be a wife or a mother. I am a person who would gladly choose to be a good wife and a good mother as long as it doesn’t change the good person in me.
This is how I wrecked my marriage, they say.
“A wise woman should never let her husband know that she’s on to him; she should keep a mask face and pretend to be the weaker one, but she must know that it’s her responsibility to be the strong one who makes the marriage work. She should wake up early in the morning, prepare breakfast, be all smiley and shiny and wish her husband a good day at work, until he’s back, she is to clean up, prepare a nice meal and think of more things she can do to make him a happy happy person when he’s back. When he’s back home, she should welcome him warmly, if he’s grumpy, she should not bother him more, she should let him be if he’d rather be alone or try to cheer him up if he could use some cheering up. She should never complain the he doesn’t spend time with her, who needs men anyways?! Yet somehow, if he asks her to join him and his friends out, she should make him proud by looking nice, speaking intellectually; however, without making him sound less intellectual.”
I won’t say I did it all, I learned how to cook his favorite meals (including Daany that I can’t even stand its smell), cleaned up as much as I could (I am a messy person by nature), used to prepare him whatever little surprise I could think of on daily basis, ran to the door for a daily welcome-back hug, left him for hours with his pc when he did not want to be interrupted, and sat and heard him through when he needed to vent. When we went out I made him proud; his friends never complained about me being a drag or them having to act in a certain way because of me. I did however complain I never spent enough time. I did complain about spending the whole day home alone since most of my friends were also busy with their lives.
“You should have kids you know; once you do, they will keep you busy.”
But I did not want kids, I thought 21 was too young to be a mother. I thought I was a child myself and the responsibility of being married had secretly overwhelmed me and scared the crap out of me. I wanted to have kids when I was ready for it, not to fill my time.
“Well, you should work then, work will build character and will show you that there is more to the world than being home waiting for your hubby. You will earn your own money and it will feel much better than getting your allowance”
So I worked. It was my first job away from my father and his company. I made friends at work easily, and learned how to do my job fast enough that my trainer and my supervisor were impressed. Work was 40 minutes away from home on an average day, yet I didn’t complain until I found that I started slacking at home. No more warm daily meals, no more fancy things to work on, just the weekly clean up and two home cooked meals at most. Did not get any complains in that matter though.
Two years passed that way and I had no clue he missed the meals because every time I apologized for it and asked him if he wanted me to quit so that he can have things the way they were, he smiled and said it was ok and we were both happy. We’d stop at each other’s offices for a surprise lunch or drink. He’d come on my birthday and I would take the day off for his birthday. Everyone I knew, including me believed I had the perfect marriage and the most understanding and supportive husband.
I got pregnant, I thought I was ready and he was eager to be a daddy. He was doing his masters meanwhile, and both of our jobs were stable. Pregnancy sucked for that matter, I did not suffer from nausea; I just wanted to sleep all the time and got terrible headaches when I couldn’t. As it turned out, I am hypertensive and I had to deal with it until the first trimester was over, then I was on medication that didn’t help much anyways.
I could no longer handle pressure at work; started losing my temper all the time and I remember I even yelled at a colleague whom I really liked for trying to cheer me up. Eventually, I made the decision of quitting to rest at home and prepare myself and my surrounding for the new comer since I wanted to be a stay-home mommy anyways.
I was six months pregnant when his dad died. I was there every minute of his day so that he would talk to me if he needed to. Instead of staying home and trying to rest like the doctor said, I used to drive him everywhere because I was afraid he’d drive on his own. I used to wait for him in the car in the midst of June when I couldn’t join. I even agreed to leave my home, which I pretty much loved and move with his grandma and his aunt so that he wouldn’t spend hours driving back and forth when they need him. I spent my last month of pregnancy packing and unpacking, sitting in an empty apartment as it was being maintained to embarrassed to sit in a comfy way and had to suffer from swollen ankles and backaches. I never complained.
I gave birth and had to deal with his I-am-all-freaked-out-because-I-am-a-daddy-now, he would spend nights with me in the hospital seeing how I couldn’t breathe, and tell me that I am making a big deal out of it and that a c-section is meant to be easier than natural birth.
I had to do further surgeries once my son turned 6 months since my troubles breathing and painful stomachaches were due to gall bladder stones, not me faking pain for more attention as he suggested. My doctor asked him how he did not notice that I was in that much pain for six months, he said I barely complained once the pain was gone.
I have to say that all through the time since I moved to his family’s (two days before my c-section), I barely cooked since it was either my son or my pain or my cleaning up the little space I had. It was his aunt who did the cooking and I would try to help by doing grocery shopping when I was out or do some minor things in the kitchen to make it easier for her.
Shortly after my surgery, I was chatting on his laptop with a childhood friend who lives abroad and she kept talking about her private life, so after finishing up with her, I though I would delete the chat log to make sure no secrets would be out. I found his own chat log with his girlfriend whom he’d known all through my pregnancy.
I called him in tears and asked him to tell me the truth. He came home and started yelling at me for looking through his files and using his laptop to begin with. He tried to tell lies but couldn’t; every lie he made fell apart against my logic. He finally confessed and I cried a lot more.
He begged me to not leave. He knew I would. I thought I would. For some reason I didn’t. He said he’d do whatever I want if it’s a divorce I wanted and that he would never force me to live with him if I no longer wanted; however, if I decided to stay he would do whatever it took to make it up to me. I kept crying not knowing what to do. I thought it was easy to walk away, but I chose not to. I loved him, yet I couldn’t forgive him.
It went downhill from there. He could always see that look in my eyes, even when I smiled, even when we joked about anything. In our fights, I tried never to bring it up, but sometimes he just had it coming saying all the things that would give me no choice but to mention it. We both tried, but he couldn’t really make it up and I couldn’t forgive him. I couldn’t hear him say he loved me without wondering if those words meant anything anymore; he told her he loved her and then said it meant nothing, so was it just something he’d say to sound sophisticated? Whatever the answer was, those words lost their meaning; if anything they were a painful reminder that would fill my eyes with tears.
I traveled for a week with my family and my son hoping that spending a couple of days away would make me miss him, and it did. I was touched that he came to the airport for I knew he would normally count on my dad’s driver to pick us up. And just when the ice started melting, I got pregnant again. It was my time to freak out and start crying. I believe in abortion, I just don’t know if it’s ok to do it from a religious point of view, so I kept crying wishing the best would happen.
My best friend thought I was déjavu-ing when I told her he was different around my sixth month of pregnancy. She told me he would never do that to me again. She said it was because of my hormones and my insecurities. I listened to her because I was afraid I’d trust my instincts and act in a way that would be unfair to him.
Around the time I started thinking happy thoughts and started being all bubbly and shiny despite how beano and the pregnancy were killing me, he had that business trip with a female colleague of his whom I had met early in my pregnancy. I had no formed opinion of her since he would only mention her to make fun of the way she talks.
That’s her. How it all started, I’ve heard different stories from him and I no longer know or care what the truth is. I guess it’s still too raw for me to talk about the two of them without feeling that pain. It’s not just her; it’s the time he chose to do that to me, it’s how he did it and it’s all the pain he caused in the process. It’s him blaming it all on me saying that I had it coming.
I stopped defending myself, I even apologized for all the things he’d blown out of proportion to make it sound like it was all me, but I couldn’t understand why he never left if I was that horrible. All I did the first time when I didn’t leave was ask him to leave me before ever doing any of that to me again.
I know I haven’t been perfect for the past couple of years. I know sometimes my resentment showed and I won’t blame him for it, I will just say that being unable to forgive is who I am, and it’s not like he’s much of a forgiving person himself to judge me. I know I can be hard to handle at times, I know all my flaws and I always try to make up for them to those I care about.
However, at the end of the day, I refuse to be blamed for his infidelity; it was his choice, there was a moment when he could have chosen to not start that affair, there were even more moments when he could have chosen to nib it in the bud, only he didn’t. Moreover, he chose to hurt and humiliate me in the process, and that’s even harder for me to forgive.
Yes, I left home to the hospital in order to give birth to my mocha, and since then I haven’t been back. But that was never my home. I left my home the day I agreed to move with his family to make his life easier. If it had been my home, he would have never took away the keys or changed the lock after he returned them, he would have never told his aunt to not let me in when I went to pick my stuff. If it were my home, I would have never left.
So back to the sum up I started the post with. Yes, I am an opinionated uncompromising person who has zero tolerance for lying and who would call you on it. This is who I am, but I know for sure I am worth it for I am capable of giving as much back, and even more; so I will not apologize for who I am.
“The wise wife should bear the full responsibility of keeping the marriage intact no matter what. She should overlook all her husband’s flaws and mistakes as long as he supports well financially and apologizes every now and then for the times he’s weak. She should never leave her home and should always forgive her husband for all men are meant to make mistakes since they are weak creatures. The wise wife should befriend any woman she thinks is after her husband, so that to prove her existence and eliminate that of anyone else’s. The good wife should always make her husband feel needed, wanted, and loved even when she can’t stand to look at his face and see his cheating eyes. The good wife should put her husband and her family first, for that’s her purpose in life.”
I’ve heard all that and more… if that’s what a good wife is, then I am a terrible one. I refuse to be the only one caring for this marriage. I would gladly overlook his flaws if they are tolerable and if he has qualities that overweigh them, but I would refuse to overlook betrayal. I refuse to stay in a home where I constantly feel like a guest. I refuse to forgive him for a mistake he had repeated knowing the consequences and I refuse to think that all men are weak that way. I refuse to befriend someone who wants my husband, if she wants him; she can have him if he lets her, for I would never fight for someone who would want to be taken. My love and my feelings are genuine; I refuse to fake them when I don’t feel them. And finally, I refuse to believe that my sole purpose in life is to be a wife or a mother. I am a person who would gladly choose to be a good wife and a good mother as long as it doesn’t change the good person in me.
Things that make me smile, until…
Beano
My son rushing towards the steering wheel as we get in the car, standing on my seat and saying with his most excited tone: “aannnn annnnnnnnnnnnn” (that’s meant to be driving sound for him)
Me: Bomba (that’s what my best friend D calls him), edrab el kalaks
Him: 2a2aaaaaa *hitting the steering wheel*
(it makes me laugh every time!!)
When he insists on pulling away the newspaper from my sister since it is my dad’s thing to sit and read it.
When he mistakes my hair band for hers and pulls it off (with a huge chunk of my hair), just to give it to her saying “GooGooo” (that’s what he calls her)
When everyone is asleep and he’s restless, so he keeps saying each name and putting both his palms on one cheek so as to signal that each one of them is asleep
Me: Bomba (that’s what my best friend D calls him), edrab el kalaks
Him: 2a2aaaaaa *hitting the steering wheel*
(it makes me laugh every time!!)
When he insists on pulling away the newspaper from my sister since it is my dad’s thing to sit and read it.
When he mistakes my hair band for hers and pulls it off (with a huge chunk of my hair), just to give it to her saying “GooGooo” (that’s what he calls her)
When everyone is asleep and he’s restless, so he keeps saying each name and putting both his palms on one cheek so as to signal that each one of them is asleep
Mocha
When he is awake and tries to pull himself up, and then sees me approaching him and gives me that BIG smile and his cute brown eyes seem to get much bigger!
When he crawls next to his sleeping brother and starts grabbing his hair; it feels like he’s taking his own revenge for all the times beano would grab him hard to kiss him
When he crawls too fast with excitement to go towards a colorful toy
When I stretch both of my arms high, holding him and he laughs so hard until he starts drooling
When he keeps mumbling meaningless things at the top of his lungs only to pause and smile when he notices I am silently looking at him and smiling
I just love those two, looking at them when they both play together makes things feel a little bit better until I start wondering how things will be different and how they are meant to change one day from little cuties to annoying kids, then obnoxious teenagers. Will they one day believe the lies their father might tell about me and who ended the marriage? Will they accuse me for not caring enough for the two of them to swallow my pride and remain married to their dad like my own father says?? Truth is, I am scared to death.
October 8, 2007
I will only say it once
I didn’t want to answer the phone for I knew I would lose control and cry if you made me.
The only reason I talked to you on msn was because I promised I would let you contact me for the kids’ sake, and I was stupid to think you wouldn’t be able to make me cry on msn… u did, good for you.
So now after exiting msn, I will allow myself to say all the things I will not dare say out loud for the sake of both of my kids because I promised I will not badmouth you to them, and unlike you, I do keep my promises.
I hate you. Yes, I tried so much to avoid feeling that way, but I do.
I hate how you make me cry every time you start talking about what a terrible wife I’ve been… the reason it gets to me, is that at a time I believed it, and as it turns out, it was one more lie you made me believe…
I hate you for repeating over and over all the things you’ve “done for me”, when it was only your job as a husband to do them… yet somehow you forget all the things I went out of my way to do for you… does it not embarrass you that I never mention them our of good manners? Would it make a difference if I kept repeating them? Well, the only reason I never do is because I think mentioning them would diminish them.
I hate how you project all your mistakes on me, and say that I did them…
I hate how you would never take the blame for any of it; it’s always someone else’s fault, preferably me, or someone else otherwise, but never you!!
I hate hating you, I don’t want to waste any feelings on you to begin with, all I want is to be able to say your name or think of you without flinching or fighting that bitter feeling I may get when I remember all the bad things…
I numbed myself for a while so that you wouldn’t let hating you get under my skin the way it does, but somehow you found ways to let it back in; it could be because I let you, but it doesn’t matter now.
I try so hard to hold on to the peace of mind I seem to feel now that I am away from you, but then I have to deal with you and in one second it all goes away, even when I pretend to keep my cool.
Don’t you get it, I am literally forcing myself to be the bigger person here… trying so hard to make up all excuses for your behavior and say that it will be over and that it’s my part not to make it any worse than it already is, but you mess with my brain and try my patience and leave me nothing but lost temper and overflowing tears…
I hate crying… my dad goes mad when he sees me crying and knows that you probably saw my tears, he keeps yelling at me saying that I should be proud enough and not let you see my tears… don’t you get it? I don’t care anymore who sees those tears… I let them out in hopes of letting all the negative energy out as well, I no longer care if anyone sees them if it means I’m cleansing my soul from all the shit that’s inside…
You know what else I hate? I hate that I wish you’d die… yes, sometimes I do… I was surprised to hear myself say that to a friend… but the way I saw it, it was a lot simpler than that, your death would make it easier for me to tell our kids there dad was a good guy and they would never deal with you to find out… it would mean that my troubles are over, no strings attached…
But when my anger and hate subside, and when I am finally calm and peaceful again, I tell myself that I can’t really blame you for who you are, sometimes when I am extra peaceful, I wish you well!! I tell myself, he’s a lost soul and perhaps some of those days he’ll be found….
But I think what I really want for you is to know and fully realize what you’ve done, to truly understand the consequences of your actions and acknowledge your part in all that… I want you to know what it’s like to lose someone who loves you and not be able to make it better, I know it stinks, for I lost something I never really had and it did hurt, so real loss should hurt more… may be then, you would understand why I was not able to forgive you and give me a break for a change…
Until then, stop getting on my nerves, stop making me cry and stop hurting me any further, I really don’t wanna keep on hating you… you’re not worth it.
October 8, 2007
The only reason I talked to you on msn was because I promised I would let you contact me for the kids’ sake, and I was stupid to think you wouldn’t be able to make me cry on msn… u did, good for you.
So now after exiting msn, I will allow myself to say all the things I will not dare say out loud for the sake of both of my kids because I promised I will not badmouth you to them, and unlike you, I do keep my promises.
I hate you. Yes, I tried so much to avoid feeling that way, but I do.
I hate how you make me cry every time you start talking about what a terrible wife I’ve been… the reason it gets to me, is that at a time I believed it, and as it turns out, it was one more lie you made me believe…
I hate you for repeating over and over all the things you’ve “done for me”, when it was only your job as a husband to do them… yet somehow you forget all the things I went out of my way to do for you… does it not embarrass you that I never mention them our of good manners? Would it make a difference if I kept repeating them? Well, the only reason I never do is because I think mentioning them would diminish them.
I hate how you project all your mistakes on me, and say that I did them…
I hate how you would never take the blame for any of it; it’s always someone else’s fault, preferably me, or someone else otherwise, but never you!!
I hate hating you, I don’t want to waste any feelings on you to begin with, all I want is to be able to say your name or think of you without flinching or fighting that bitter feeling I may get when I remember all the bad things…
I numbed myself for a while so that you wouldn’t let hating you get under my skin the way it does, but somehow you found ways to let it back in; it could be because I let you, but it doesn’t matter now.
I try so hard to hold on to the peace of mind I seem to feel now that I am away from you, but then I have to deal with you and in one second it all goes away, even when I pretend to keep my cool.
Don’t you get it, I am literally forcing myself to be the bigger person here… trying so hard to make up all excuses for your behavior and say that it will be over and that it’s my part not to make it any worse than it already is, but you mess with my brain and try my patience and leave me nothing but lost temper and overflowing tears…
I hate crying… my dad goes mad when he sees me crying and knows that you probably saw my tears, he keeps yelling at me saying that I should be proud enough and not let you see my tears… don’t you get it? I don’t care anymore who sees those tears… I let them out in hopes of letting all the negative energy out as well, I no longer care if anyone sees them if it means I’m cleansing my soul from all the shit that’s inside…
You know what else I hate? I hate that I wish you’d die… yes, sometimes I do… I was surprised to hear myself say that to a friend… but the way I saw it, it was a lot simpler than that, your death would make it easier for me to tell our kids there dad was a good guy and they would never deal with you to find out… it would mean that my troubles are over, no strings attached…
But when my anger and hate subside, and when I am finally calm and peaceful again, I tell myself that I can’t really blame you for who you are, sometimes when I am extra peaceful, I wish you well!! I tell myself, he’s a lost soul and perhaps some of those days he’ll be found….
But I think what I really want for you is to know and fully realize what you’ve done, to truly understand the consequences of your actions and acknowledge your part in all that… I want you to know what it’s like to lose someone who loves you and not be able to make it better, I know it stinks, for I lost something I never really had and it did hurt, so real loss should hurt more… may be then, you would understand why I was not able to forgive you and give me a break for a change…
Until then, stop getting on my nerves, stop making me cry and stop hurting me any further, I really don’t wanna keep on hating you… you’re not worth it.
October 8, 2007
Nostalgia
Yesterday was just bad! It wasn’t just because I went out with him along with the kids to buy some stuff and pretend we’re family, not because I planned on being sweet and nice and had to deal with his bad attitude which lead to the never ending argument on whose responsibility it was that the marriage ended, and not even because he wanted me to sign a paper stating that I have in my possession most of my belongings.
I guess it was mostly because when it was time to go home, my little beano kept crying and saying “babaa”, and started pushing me away when I tried to hold him explaining that it was time to go home to daddoo and nannaa with mamma and even offered him candy to let go of his father. It was heartbreaking. It was also over whelming that I got in the car and started crying. I am ashamed to say I cried, very ashamed; I just couldn’t help it though.
At that particular moment I kept remembering how everything went down and started blaming him in my head. He got in the car with my son and told me he’d take him for the rest of the day and bring him home later that day, I just couldn’t! I mean at first I said it was ok, but I couldn’t bring myself to give him the back pack and send him off just like that!! So I insisted my son would come with me despite his crying and told the husband that he was to learn sooner or later that he belongs with me and that home is where I am. Was it cruel? Perhaps. Perhaps it was selfish of me to want my son to be with me and get that upset when he wants to spend time with his dad instead. I guess I am not that prepared for the consequences of divorce after all!!
I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy the rest of the day. I went home and crashed in bed hoping my terrible headache would go away. Instead, I had disturbed sleep and a more painful headache. Not just that, I had to get dressed again to have iftar at my aunt’s whom I love and all, but I’ve been having some issues with lately, let alone that every one in my family except uncle G and cousin O thinks that the husband is on some business trip, so they keep asking how he is and when he’s expected back and I reply with lies that I no longer care if they add up together.
Anyways, while we were there at my aunt’s, there was that commercial where they played the music of a Souad Massi song called “rooh ya zaman” (I think). So my sister kept squeezing her brain out, trying to remember which album the song was in until she finally did (aren’t you so proud, sis?). So on our way home we played Souad Massi’s album: Mesk El Lil.
A couple of streets away from home, as the song was about to start since I insisted on listening to the whole album and not just skip to the song. So I asked my two sisters if they were up for a ride in the beautiful empty streets of Maadi right before midnight until the song is played, and they agreed.
I drove by my best friend’s place, saw her car parked where she had left it right before she moved to the states two months ago. Looked at her apartment and noticed that her mom was out although her car was parked next to D’s car. It got really nostalgic. I remembered how D’s dad used to take us for late night rides whenever we got too restless to study. He would take us out in Maadi and sometimes even up to Mokkatam where we’d play our favorite songs and sing along until we got too tired to study so, then he would just drive me home or let D stay for the night.
I miss her. I could go on and on forever about how much I miss her, and I won’t say enough, so I will just stop there.
I think I will call her dad later today to check on him, then I will call her probably later today to tell her how her dad is and talk for a while about whatever (yep, we do make meaningless distance calls to say things like “so, eh el akhbar?” and spend a few minutes silent simply because there is nothing new to say).
I miss being 13 again and spending all my day at school with her only to go back home and have her over later the same day in a failed attempt to study. Life was much simpler then; yet somehow we managed to think it was complicated and have our own dramas over the silliest of things like how controlling my parents were (and still are) and how she could get that guy she had a crush on to notice that she was interested. We had no idea things would get really complicated I guess!
October 8, 2007
I guess it was mostly because when it was time to go home, my little beano kept crying and saying “babaa”, and started pushing me away when I tried to hold him explaining that it was time to go home to daddoo and nannaa with mamma and even offered him candy to let go of his father. It was heartbreaking. It was also over whelming that I got in the car and started crying. I am ashamed to say I cried, very ashamed; I just couldn’t help it though.
At that particular moment I kept remembering how everything went down and started blaming him in my head. He got in the car with my son and told me he’d take him for the rest of the day and bring him home later that day, I just couldn’t! I mean at first I said it was ok, but I couldn’t bring myself to give him the back pack and send him off just like that!! So I insisted my son would come with me despite his crying and told the husband that he was to learn sooner or later that he belongs with me and that home is where I am. Was it cruel? Perhaps. Perhaps it was selfish of me to want my son to be with me and get that upset when he wants to spend time with his dad instead. I guess I am not that prepared for the consequences of divorce after all!!
I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy the rest of the day. I went home and crashed in bed hoping my terrible headache would go away. Instead, I had disturbed sleep and a more painful headache. Not just that, I had to get dressed again to have iftar at my aunt’s whom I love and all, but I’ve been having some issues with lately, let alone that every one in my family except uncle G and cousin O thinks that the husband is on some business trip, so they keep asking how he is and when he’s expected back and I reply with lies that I no longer care if they add up together.
Anyways, while we were there at my aunt’s, there was that commercial where they played the music of a Souad Massi song called “rooh ya zaman” (I think). So my sister kept squeezing her brain out, trying to remember which album the song was in until she finally did (aren’t you so proud, sis?). So on our way home we played Souad Massi’s album: Mesk El Lil.
A couple of streets away from home, as the song was about to start since I insisted on listening to the whole album and not just skip to the song. So I asked my two sisters if they were up for a ride in the beautiful empty streets of Maadi right before midnight until the song is played, and they agreed.
I drove by my best friend’s place, saw her car parked where she had left it right before she moved to the states two months ago. Looked at her apartment and noticed that her mom was out although her car was parked next to D’s car. It got really nostalgic. I remembered how D’s dad used to take us for late night rides whenever we got too restless to study. He would take us out in Maadi and sometimes even up to Mokkatam where we’d play our favorite songs and sing along until we got too tired to study so, then he would just drive me home or let D stay for the night.
I miss her. I could go on and on forever about how much I miss her, and I won’t say enough, so I will just stop there.
I think I will call her dad later today to check on him, then I will call her probably later today to tell her how her dad is and talk for a while about whatever (yep, we do make meaningless distance calls to say things like “so, eh el akhbar?” and spend a few minutes silent simply because there is nothing new to say).
I miss being 13 again and spending all my day at school with her only to go back home and have her over later the same day in a failed attempt to study. Life was much simpler then; yet somehow we managed to think it was complicated and have our own dramas over the silliest of things like how controlling my parents were (and still are) and how she could get that guy she had a crush on to notice that she was interested. We had no idea things would get really complicated I guess!
October 8, 2007
October 2, 2007
Template Disorder
I was working on my template and i found a new one that I liked, sadly after pasting the new code, it turned out to be for another template (this one) :(
Now I am stuck with this one until I go home and put the old one back for further alterations.
For the record, I hate this template.
Now I am stuck with this one until I go home and put the old one back for further alterations.
For the record, I hate this template.
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