I have no one but myself to blame. I will not blame my bad mood or anyone, not today. I will not say that the troubles I have breathing right now are attributed to my mom’s thoughtless words or my bumpy divorce or the huge piece of shit from hell* I once fell for.
Well, I can blame him, but I choose not to. I blame me…
Not for falling for the wrong person; we all do that at one stage of our lives.
Not for choosing to ignore the millions of signs and choosing to see him as noble as I thought he was; I was young and naive and entitled to be wooed by a good looking guy who spoke well and made me feel loved.
But I will forever blame myself for accepting to live by his rules, rules I know I would have never agreed to and never actually did, but only lived by them to please him. I will forever blame myself for keeping unexplainable distance between myself and a lot of people just to make him feel secure.
This is what I blame myself for every time one or some of his lies unravel.
I do it to myself every time…
Every time I think I am strong enough to say that I am totally over the pain he caused, I receive yet another slap in the face…
But do I deserve it?? Perhaps… after all, I do seek the truth, truth that I know shall never bring peace to my soul.
But I challenge myself because I need to know for sure if I healed; I want to feel healed, is it that bad? Yes, for I know I will never be healed; I have more than just c-section scars, I have emotional scars that may seem to have healed but they are bound to sting whenever I pour salt on them, which I do!!
I just want my closure; every single time I think I have it, it slips right through my fingers leaving me with more pain than I can handle… will it ever end?? The only closure I would accept is to know he’s sorry and he’s paying the price, but it may take more than my lifetime to get that. Why don’t I just have faith that he will get what he deserves in time?? I blame the stupid stupid notion that bad things are bound to happen to bad people and that in fairy tales, the villain is bound to suffer in the end. But my end seems to be much further than in fairy tales.
Even when I am in my strong moments, my mind can’t help but wander to two devastating thoughts…
Number one: has he always been like that, or did he simply change??? It hurts to think I was THAT stupid not to see him for who he is… I thought I was smarter than that; my friends always told me I was smarter than that!! If only they see me now!
Seriously, was it all a lie??? I hate to admit I will never really know for sure… stop moping, get over yourself already! You hate whining, so quit doing it, suck it up and move on and don’t be such a wimp.
Number two: I can’t believe I am the best option my kids have!!!!! Seriously, given how much my mom and I have been fighting lately, and how she keeps bringing up that I am a terrible person and mother, I am starting to believe her shit! Let alone that when she says things like how she’s tired babysitting mocha, my pride itches and I hate myself for needing her help, or my sisters’ for that matter… yeah, i resent needing help.
I hate to admit that I have considered for a fraction of a second sending them to their father and his family to take care of them. That thought was rejected instantly for I know for a fact they provide an even worse environment.
Which brings me back to my thought, am I really the best option they have? May God have mercy on them… my heart was breaking as I was crying my eyes out to my friend H on the phone telling her how inadequate I feel. I appreciate her extremely soothing words reassuring me that it was the sleep deprivation and the effect of mama’s words talking, not my normal self (whatever that is), but the thought still lingers: Am I the best they have??????
My head won't leave my head alone*
* N has exclusive copy rights of the words in italics followed by an Astrix.
December 30, 2007
December 28, 2007
One rational request!
I want people to pause –at least for a fraction of a second- and think before they open their mouths. If they still find those hurtful words worth saying, or if they really mean them, then they can go ahead and say them.
I dare ask that because it’s what I do. I have a lot of hurtful things on my mind I wish I could just say, but I am keeping them to myself, not because they are untrue for they are!! But basically because no good would come out of hurting those I would like to say those words to.
All I want is that much… and yeah, if those hurtful words are untrue, it’s just unfair!
I dare ask that because it’s what I do. I have a lot of hurtful things on my mind I wish I could just say, but I am keeping them to myself, not because they are untrue for they are!! But basically because no good would come out of hurting those I would like to say those words to.
All I want is that much… and yeah, if those hurtful words are untrue, it’s just unfair!
December 25, 2007
Random Happiness… again!!
Yesterday was one good day generally!
It was brought to my attention that I never received my estemara 6 from my previous job. True! I had no idea one was supposed to obtain it from former employer; I always thought it was automatically forwarded to the employment office and then provided by the same to the next employer whenever needed. It just made more sense in my head that way. A friend of mine pointed on another note that I live in my own dream world, which I think was a compliment despite the sarcastic tone.
So, I called the Administration Manager, who is a retired lewa, a pretty grumpy old man who can be extremely nice to polite people such as myself, despite how obnoxious he is to blue collar staff! The man was of great help and told me he could even give the document to a friend of mine who worked there if I couldn’t personally go and pick it up to which I replied “la ya seyadet el lewa, ana lazem agy assalem 3ala 7adritak Kaman”. I have a friend who personally hates that man and who will have strong urges to call me names when he reads this. Sorry B, the man is nice to me; my late grandpa wasn’t that nice, so when people his age show signs of niceness, i respond!
I also happened to know while calling them that my colleague/trainer got promoted to Department Manager, which made me so thrilled to go give her a you-go-girl hug, so it wasn’t just to personally thank el lewa.
After miraculously finding a parking space, I stumbled upon a guy who worked in the Legal Department whom I barely even liked, and he was extremely nice to me, which made me think that now that I have seen how low people can sink (courtesy of my husband), I am able to see people as less obnoxious!
The moment I walked in on my recently promoted colleague, she greeted me so warmly as I congratulated her we kept squealing with joy like girls do, until people gathered. Those whom I worked with greeted me BIG time; all hugs and kisses from the girls and strong handshakes from the guys (which sounds extremely weird to non Arabs, I know).
I was instantly reminded of how warm it felt working with those people. How the only thing that made me wake up in the very early morning and endure leaving so late and the hectic work load. It simply was that I could joke with those people all day long. I felt warm and fuzzy inside, that my cheeks kept on blushing more and more with happiness, which made S (my former supervisor/mother figure whom I feel comfortable ranting to) tell me I especially glowed, despite her knowing of the loads of crap I am sinking under.
It was overwhelming how I kept running into people who told me I was looking great. It made me feel great! Yes, I hereby admit that despite not caring what people think of me, it did make a difference yesterday when people told me nice things either about my looks or how they missed “the joy my spirit brought to the workplace”.
I sat with S alone for a while and she gave me my so much needed dose of support/advice, then I dropped by my friend’s office, the one who got me that job who happens to be the sister of one of my two best friends, and also knows about the drama in my life. We kept talking about how the upcoming move to the new work location is going and I asked her which company they were dealing with in this regard. She told me it was the company the husband worked for; yes, the one where that person he cheated on me with still works! This brought us to talking about him. She told me the most amazing thing ever: “you know, there is nothing to worry about when it comes to restarting your life without him; money buys everything, everything is replaceable, EXCEPT good people, and he was not good. As for money, Rabina elly beyeb3atha la2enaha riz2 men 3ando, so don’t worry, things will be fine”
I told her how the only thing that sometimes made me a tad bitter was feeling that he never felt remorse for what he did, for believing his own bull shit. To that, she told me that he may never feel the remorse he should and that he may remain delusional about the whole thing; however, it will sting to see me moving on as if losing him was never a big deal and that one look at how my face was glowing would make him feel that way instantly.
These people have made my day. Damn it, they returned color to my face after I thought it had gotten too pale even for make up to revive. THANK YOU GUYS. I know it means nothing to say that when I refused rejoining the company. But the reasons I quit still stand, so let me just say, it’s been great.
Of course I went home to my mother to actually find her still talking about going back to him, but this time I was too happy to repeat my previous reply, and instead I told her calmly in front of my dad to repeat what she said, and he did the honors. Thanks baba, I LOVE YOU.
I am happy, at least for today, alhamdul’Ellah.
Oh yeah, MERRY CHRISTMAS and all.
It was brought to my attention that I never received my estemara 6 from my previous job. True! I had no idea one was supposed to obtain it from former employer; I always thought it was automatically forwarded to the employment office and then provided by the same to the next employer whenever needed. It just made more sense in my head that way. A friend of mine pointed on another note that I live in my own dream world, which I think was a compliment despite the sarcastic tone.
So, I called the Administration Manager, who is a retired lewa, a pretty grumpy old man who can be extremely nice to polite people such as myself, despite how obnoxious he is to blue collar staff! The man was of great help and told me he could even give the document to a friend of mine who worked there if I couldn’t personally go and pick it up to which I replied “la ya seyadet el lewa, ana lazem agy assalem 3ala 7adritak Kaman”. I have a friend who personally hates that man and who will have strong urges to call me names when he reads this. Sorry B, the man is nice to me; my late grandpa wasn’t that nice, so when people his age show signs of niceness, i respond!
I also happened to know while calling them that my colleague/trainer got promoted to Department Manager, which made me so thrilled to go give her a you-go-girl hug, so it wasn’t just to personally thank el lewa.
After miraculously finding a parking space, I stumbled upon a guy who worked in the Legal Department whom I barely even liked, and he was extremely nice to me, which made me think that now that I have seen how low people can sink (courtesy of my husband), I am able to see people as less obnoxious!
The moment I walked in on my recently promoted colleague, she greeted me so warmly as I congratulated her we kept squealing with joy like girls do, until people gathered. Those whom I worked with greeted me BIG time; all hugs and kisses from the girls and strong handshakes from the guys (which sounds extremely weird to non Arabs, I know).
I was instantly reminded of how warm it felt working with those people. How the only thing that made me wake up in the very early morning and endure leaving so late and the hectic work load. It simply was that I could joke with those people all day long. I felt warm and fuzzy inside, that my cheeks kept on blushing more and more with happiness, which made S (my former supervisor/mother figure whom I feel comfortable ranting to) tell me I especially glowed, despite her knowing of the loads of crap I am sinking under.
It was overwhelming how I kept running into people who told me I was looking great. It made me feel great! Yes, I hereby admit that despite not caring what people think of me, it did make a difference yesterday when people told me nice things either about my looks or how they missed “the joy my spirit brought to the workplace”.
I sat with S alone for a while and she gave me my so much needed dose of support/advice, then I dropped by my friend’s office, the one who got me that job who happens to be the sister of one of my two best friends, and also knows about the drama in my life. We kept talking about how the upcoming move to the new work location is going and I asked her which company they were dealing with in this regard. She told me it was the company the husband worked for; yes, the one where that person he cheated on me with still works! This brought us to talking about him. She told me the most amazing thing ever: “you know, there is nothing to worry about when it comes to restarting your life without him; money buys everything, everything is replaceable, EXCEPT good people, and he was not good. As for money, Rabina elly beyeb3atha la2enaha riz2 men 3ando, so don’t worry, things will be fine”
I told her how the only thing that sometimes made me a tad bitter was feeling that he never felt remorse for what he did, for believing his own bull shit. To that, she told me that he may never feel the remorse he should and that he may remain delusional about the whole thing; however, it will sting to see me moving on as if losing him was never a big deal and that one look at how my face was glowing would make him feel that way instantly.
These people have made my day. Damn it, they returned color to my face after I thought it had gotten too pale even for make up to revive. THANK YOU GUYS. I know it means nothing to say that when I refused rejoining the company. But the reasons I quit still stand, so let me just say, it’s been great.
Of course I went home to my mother to actually find her still talking about going back to him, but this time I was too happy to repeat my previous reply, and instead I told her calmly in front of my dad to repeat what she said, and he did the honors. Thanks baba, I LOVE YOU.
I am happy, at least for today, alhamdul’Ellah.
Oh yeah, MERRY CHRISTMAS and all.
December 17, 2007
How do I react? Seriously!!
So, while minding my own business and keeping the f***-off face, I got those texts... the icing on my beautiful day...
"Happy Eid ya (my name), and happy eid to beano and mocha too, our 2 angels, ya rab tekoony betkalemeehom kowayes 3anny, i wish you do that. Really, God knows my good intend for all of us & for your family. Happy eid, ya rab 3id sa3eed 3aliko, we ya rab ye'adimlina el kheir ya binty. Take care of u, dayman bad3eelik bel kowayes fe sery we fi salaty we 3azrek walahy. but!"
followed by this...
"Btw, don't forget 2 fast 2morrow we 3and el fitar ed3y bel khair ya (my name) we isA, rabina ye2ademlek dayman el khair ya om el 3eyal. I wish u get my msgs in good intent"
Will someone please tell me what to do, this is not good for my general health! i did not reply or even show any signs of reactions, but I am boiling underneath.....
*Maintaining my "Depressed Bit$#" mode and updating it to "Depressed Angry BitS#" Mode
"Happy Eid ya (my name), and happy eid to beano and mocha too, our 2 angels, ya rab tekoony betkalemeehom kowayes 3anny, i wish you do that. Really, God knows my good intend for all of us & for your family. Happy eid, ya rab 3id sa3eed 3aliko, we ya rab ye'adimlina el kheir ya binty. Take care of u, dayman bad3eelik bel kowayes fe sery we fi salaty we 3azrek walahy. but!"
followed by this...
"Btw, don't forget 2 fast 2morrow we 3and el fitar ed3y bel khair ya (my name) we isA, rabina ye2ademlek dayman el khair ya om el 3eyal. I wish u get my msgs in good intent"
Will someone please tell me what to do, this is not good for my general health! i did not reply or even show any signs of reactions, but I am boiling underneath.....
*Maintaining my "Depressed Bit$#" mode and updating it to "Depressed Angry BitS#" Mode
Holiday Announcement!
Further to current events, I have decided to put on my depression hat and spend the whole holiday enjoying my bad mood.
So, to the family members who will either be joining me or meeting me in alex: Sorry for the bad mood and the crossed face, but I kinda like it that way and I plan to keep it... I am activating my "Depressed Bit$#" Mode.
Happy Holidays All
So, to the family members who will either be joining me or meeting me in alex: Sorry for the bad mood and the crossed face, but I kinda like it that way and I plan to keep it... I am activating my "Depressed Bit$#" Mode.
Happy Holidays All
December 13, 2007
An overdue rant
Two years ago, when I was diagnosed for having stones in my gall bladder (aka marara), and had to have it removed, a friend of my sister’s told her sarcastically “gozha fa2a3laha el marara, sa7”! Back then, no one had a clue of my marital problems, not even I! It was basically that friend’s conception that most people are unhappily married, in addition to the general conception that men give their wives el marara.
It was basically a joke. Even when the two of us had that big fight when I did not like the doctor he made me visit with his creepy doctor friend, that I panicked the day of the ERCP procedure and had to postpone it to the next day to be done in another hospital with a different doctor, the one who first diagnosed me (God bless that man).
Even when he did not show up that day because he was upset with me for ‘embarrassing’ him with his doctor friends, I did not think we had big issues really. Even when I got out of the hospital the same day to go back to my beano and did not find the driver or the car, that my mom and I had to take a cab home, I thought it was him urgently needing the driver to run an urgent errand. Even when he visited for a total of 15 minutes and left despite the pain I was in and my request of him to stay with me; I just thought he was like my dad, unable to react around sick people. Instead, I appreciated him bringing me ice cream despite being unable to eat a thing for two days.
I repeatedly over heard mama saying “howa elly gablaha el marara”, and just gave her the stop-saying-crap look. However, according to her, my husband was mean to me since our first baby. She saw my continuous sobbing long after my baby blues was supposedly over. She saw that fight I had with him over the phone in the hospital parking lot. She knew how extremely uncomfortable his grandma made me feel and saw how many times I have endured it saying “my late nana wasn’t that easy on people either, but she loved me; the least I can do is endure that woman because I know she loves him”.
As my mother, she felt bad for me of the past year, she sometimes badmouthed him, but she was immediately silenced by my glares. And of all the people he has offended all through the past six months (and even before), she was the one he offended the most because she was an easy target; given how he knew we never got quite along.
So what the hell is wrong with her to tell me that yesterday?
Her: you know, this court thing, could drag for a year, it’s not good for the kids
Me: so? There isn’t much I can do about it!
Her: I was thinking… but you always dislike my opinions and give me attitude, although all I want is the best for you and the kids..
Me: meaning?
Her: really, it’s for the welfare of the kids, and I know you wouldn’t like to hear the end of it
Me: mama, just say whatever it is you want to say and spare me the intro; this is exactly what makes me impatient
Her: he wasn’t always that bad you know
Me: MAMA, say whatever you want already
Her: well, for the sake of the kids, don’t get me wrong, what would happen if you –just for the sake of the kids- compromise and go back to him..
I will not repeat what I said to her in reply, because it was extremely rude and impolite of me. However, I am ashamed to say, I would say all over again.
When telling my father, he smiled and said “typical”. I told him “no seriously, I need to know what she was thinking, did she really mean it? Or she just wanted to piss me off?”. He tried to explain by telling me that she thinks I am acting irresponsibly, which is making her believe to some extent that my husband had reasons to behave that way!!!
Again, I was overwhelmed by what my dad told me; I asked him what she was expecting of me exactly and what her definition of responsible was. Again, he repeated that it is a fact that I am being irresponsible to an extent, and did his best to change the subject after making it clear that he does not agree with the rest of mama’s theory.
What do they want? I may not act ‘responsibly’ all the time, but I sure as hell have a big sense of responsibility that is suffocating the crap out of me.
I have admitted what I have done wrong in my marriage more than once; heck, I have even apologized to my husband for it repeatedly despite my awareness that it no way justified what HE did to me.
I am the one who takes care of the kids (with my family’s help), not him; he never even did that. The most he has ever done was take beano to the pool and then giving him to me to shower and change him, even when I was pregnant.
I never complained when he wasn’t that bad. I was as responsible as I could be, given all the circumstances.
Damn it, they can’t just do this to me, they can’t!!
Now, I know she expects me to take care of mocha more, but how am I supposed to when I sleep less than 5 hours a day, work 8 hours a day, and run errands every now and then, and let’s not forget I have a flu that simply won't go away!!
Yes, I get tired!! Am I not supposed to??
Yes, sometimes I can’t stand the sound of a crying baby, and I am entitled to; still, I take him in my arms and try to smile and sing to him the way I normally would if I wasn’t that exhausted.
Yes, I lose my temper at beano when he insists on doing the same mistake over and over just out of being stubborn and I yell at her when she tells me to take it easy because I don’t want him to be a spoilt brat like some I know. But I also know how to take him in my arms and make him feel loved and accepted for whatever her is.
I am admitting I am not the best mother in the world; I know I am not. I even know I am not as responsible as I should be at times.
But I am responsible enough to stay in my room when I have extremely strong urges to get dressed and leave all the chaos I have and just drive away until I feel ready to go home and take it from her or from my kids.
I am responsible enough to wake after midnight and change mocha’s diaper when I am too tired and finally sleepy.
I am responsible enough to keep my social life to the minimum so that i can spend more time at home although I would love to go out and have some fun for a change.
I am responsible enough to still respect that I am married, even if it’s to someone whom for all I know is probably either married or dating or doing whatever, and living his life to the fullest, yet ignoring the family he crushed.
I am sorry ma, I can’t be any more responsible than that! I am a 26 year old child who feels ages older than she really is. I hated responsibility since I was a little kid, but I always took it because no one else would, so spare me that crap.
I wasted 7 of the best years of my life on him, and for that I couldn’t be sorrier. So, NO, I will never even think of wasting one more minute on him for anybody’s sake, not even my kids. And by the way, I am 1000000% convinced that it can never be good for my kids to stay in such marriage.
And if you utter one more word about how many times you decided to stay in your marriage for our sake, I will personally go ask dad to spare you and give you your long waited, yet never requested divorce, except that I know it is NOT what you want; it is just your way of making things about you, like when I complain about something and you say you have it too.
LEAVE ME ALONE, I have enough shit in my life and I promise I can take it much better if you just cut me some slag.
It was basically a joke. Even when the two of us had that big fight when I did not like the doctor he made me visit with his creepy doctor friend, that I panicked the day of the ERCP procedure and had to postpone it to the next day to be done in another hospital with a different doctor, the one who first diagnosed me (God bless that man).
Even when he did not show up that day because he was upset with me for ‘embarrassing’ him with his doctor friends, I did not think we had big issues really. Even when I got out of the hospital the same day to go back to my beano and did not find the driver or the car, that my mom and I had to take a cab home, I thought it was him urgently needing the driver to run an urgent errand. Even when he visited for a total of 15 minutes and left despite the pain I was in and my request of him to stay with me; I just thought he was like my dad, unable to react around sick people. Instead, I appreciated him bringing me ice cream despite being unable to eat a thing for two days.
I repeatedly over heard mama saying “howa elly gablaha el marara”, and just gave her the stop-saying-crap look. However, according to her, my husband was mean to me since our first baby. She saw my continuous sobbing long after my baby blues was supposedly over. She saw that fight I had with him over the phone in the hospital parking lot. She knew how extremely uncomfortable his grandma made me feel and saw how many times I have endured it saying “my late nana wasn’t that easy on people either, but she loved me; the least I can do is endure that woman because I know she loves him”.
As my mother, she felt bad for me of the past year, she sometimes badmouthed him, but she was immediately silenced by my glares. And of all the people he has offended all through the past six months (and even before), she was the one he offended the most because she was an easy target; given how he knew we never got quite along.
So what the hell is wrong with her to tell me that yesterday?
Her: you know, this court thing, could drag for a year, it’s not good for the kids
Me: so? There isn’t much I can do about it!
Her: I was thinking… but you always dislike my opinions and give me attitude, although all I want is the best for you and the kids..
Me: meaning?
Her: really, it’s for the welfare of the kids, and I know you wouldn’t like to hear the end of it
Me: mama, just say whatever it is you want to say and spare me the intro; this is exactly what makes me impatient
Her: he wasn’t always that bad you know
Me: MAMA, say whatever you want already
Her: well, for the sake of the kids, don’t get me wrong, what would happen if you –just for the sake of the kids- compromise and go back to him..
I will not repeat what I said to her in reply, because it was extremely rude and impolite of me. However, I am ashamed to say, I would say all over again.
When telling my father, he smiled and said “typical”. I told him “no seriously, I need to know what she was thinking, did she really mean it? Or she just wanted to piss me off?”. He tried to explain by telling me that she thinks I am acting irresponsibly, which is making her believe to some extent that my husband had reasons to behave that way!!!
Again, I was overwhelmed by what my dad told me; I asked him what she was expecting of me exactly and what her definition of responsible was. Again, he repeated that it is a fact that I am being irresponsible to an extent, and did his best to change the subject after making it clear that he does not agree with the rest of mama’s theory.
What do they want? I may not act ‘responsibly’ all the time, but I sure as hell have a big sense of responsibility that is suffocating the crap out of me.
I have admitted what I have done wrong in my marriage more than once; heck, I have even apologized to my husband for it repeatedly despite my awareness that it no way justified what HE did to me.
I am the one who takes care of the kids (with my family’s help), not him; he never even did that. The most he has ever done was take beano to the pool and then giving him to me to shower and change him, even when I was pregnant.
I never complained when he wasn’t that bad. I was as responsible as I could be, given all the circumstances.
Damn it, they can’t just do this to me, they can’t!!
Now, I know she expects me to take care of mocha more, but how am I supposed to when I sleep less than 5 hours a day, work 8 hours a day, and run errands every now and then, and let’s not forget I have a flu that simply won't go away!!
Yes, I get tired!! Am I not supposed to??
Yes, sometimes I can’t stand the sound of a crying baby, and I am entitled to; still, I take him in my arms and try to smile and sing to him the way I normally would if I wasn’t that exhausted.
Yes, I lose my temper at beano when he insists on doing the same mistake over and over just out of being stubborn and I yell at her when she tells me to take it easy because I don’t want him to be a spoilt brat like some I know. But I also know how to take him in my arms and make him feel loved and accepted for whatever her is.
I am admitting I am not the best mother in the world; I know I am not. I even know I am not as responsible as I should be at times.
But I am responsible enough to stay in my room when I have extremely strong urges to get dressed and leave all the chaos I have and just drive away until I feel ready to go home and take it from her or from my kids.
I am responsible enough to wake after midnight and change mocha’s diaper when I am too tired and finally sleepy.
I am responsible enough to keep my social life to the minimum so that i can spend more time at home although I would love to go out and have some fun for a change.
I am responsible enough to still respect that I am married, even if it’s to someone whom for all I know is probably either married or dating or doing whatever, and living his life to the fullest, yet ignoring the family he crushed.
I am sorry ma, I can’t be any more responsible than that! I am a 26 year old child who feels ages older than she really is. I hated responsibility since I was a little kid, but I always took it because no one else would, so spare me that crap.
I wasted 7 of the best years of my life on him, and for that I couldn’t be sorrier. So, NO, I will never even think of wasting one more minute on him for anybody’s sake, not even my kids. And by the way, I am 1000000% convinced that it can never be good for my kids to stay in such marriage.
And if you utter one more word about how many times you decided to stay in your marriage for our sake, I will personally go ask dad to spare you and give you your long waited, yet never requested divorce, except that I know it is NOT what you want; it is just your way of making things about you, like when I complain about something and you say you have it too.
LEAVE ME ALONE, I have enough shit in my life and I promise I can take it much better if you just cut me some slag.
December 11, 2007
On tomorrow and justice…
My mind wouldn’t let go of this, so here it goes…
Tomorrow will be the preliminary hearing session for my divorce court case. I’ve been avoiding thinking about it for some time because I though I had enough crap on my mind, but I thought it was time to ask my dad.
So I asked him yesterday what was expected to happen since it was the first hearing session and well, Egyptian courts are known to stall anyway. So, he called up the lawyer, and they chatted for a while, I tried not to pay much attention because that would automatically make my mind jump into too much conclusions and I just needed to hear things bit by bit.
After hanging up, he told me that the husband’s aunt refused to receive the notice anyway, and that it has been sent to them via a registered letter which they received a couple of days later. *cough* typical *cough*. Their expected reaction is either to not show up at all, or show up and ask for the matter to be postponed to stall.
He told me that with a calm expecting smile, which got on my nerves a bit even though I expected it myself.
So tomorrow is nothing. Tomorrow is nothing. This was what I have to tell my mind and my system in order to not get too anxious to breathe.
What a great justice system we have. Things have to take time I’ve been told; for all legal procedures to be done properly and effectively, time must be stretched and consumed.
For the welfare of the oppressed and the benefit of the innocent, things must take time.
But the oppressed and the innocent are in desperate need of justice, sometimes they cannot afford to wait until the time comes. Isn’t Justice about being served on time as well?? But whose time?
In this meantime, he gets to enjoy my blanket, MY BLANKET, the one I laid under when I needed to feel warm and protected, and the one I hid under when I needed to cry so that he wouldn’t hear me.
In the meantime, he keeps most of my stuff, that I don’t remember needing until I need to use them; like my pair of suede gloves that I barely ever wear, unless when my hands get extremely cold that they can’t get a good grip of the steering wheel. My older son would have gotten too big to ride his little car, and my younger boy would have gotten too big to find the special blanket I got big enough so that he can feel warm and comfy in it.
My dad finds these things trivial, most of those who read this blog will too; a part of me kinda does as well, but it’s how I feel nonetheless.
My dad tells me I could go buy whatever things I need; I am a buyer anyways, even if I had access to those. I am grateful I can afford buying other stuff, I really am alhamdulilah. But I want those, probably because I can’t have them or even because I don’t want him to have them.
He’s the one who should suffer and feel unstable and insecure, not me. He’s the one who should worry about all that and consider time his enemy, not me. Time is not being fair to me this way.
Ok, wait. I know I should not say that about time. I even know that the real justice is God, and that He makes things happen in a certain way and make them take certain time.
I know that my perception of time and justice is only human and so is the justice system.
I know the divine system works in different ways with different givens, and I believe.
I don’t know if believing counts when you’re as impatient as I am; I don’t even know if believing counts when you do it because you REALLY want to believe and because you know that if you don’t believe you will lose that solid ground you really need to feel underneath your feet right now.
I really want to believe that justice will prevail, and on time. The optimist in me believes; it’s the impatient me that struggles I guess, or the oppressed in me perhaps.
As for what he gets. I am not sure what shall be enough. Every time past events come to mind or any thought related to him really, I just don’t know if anything will be enough.
Again, I know God is fair and I know He will give him what he deserves, but I can’t help but wonder how would a person suffer and realize it’s because of his own doings when this person is too delusional to stop victimizing himself or stop perceiving himself as the oppressed not the oppressor.
This could be his eternal punishment, to always think of himself as the victim and never sees life as fair. A taste of his own medicine: the feeling that someone has wronged him, without the certainty that they will pay for that. Is that enough?
Tomorrow will be the preliminary hearing session for my divorce court case. I’ve been avoiding thinking about it for some time because I though I had enough crap on my mind, but I thought it was time to ask my dad.
So I asked him yesterday what was expected to happen since it was the first hearing session and well, Egyptian courts are known to stall anyway. So, he called up the lawyer, and they chatted for a while, I tried not to pay much attention because that would automatically make my mind jump into too much conclusions and I just needed to hear things bit by bit.
After hanging up, he told me that the husband’s aunt refused to receive the notice anyway, and that it has been sent to them via a registered letter which they received a couple of days later. *cough* typical *cough*. Their expected reaction is either to not show up at all, or show up and ask for the matter to be postponed to stall.
He told me that with a calm expecting smile, which got on my nerves a bit even though I expected it myself.
So tomorrow is nothing. Tomorrow is nothing. This was what I have to tell my mind and my system in order to not get too anxious to breathe.
What a great justice system we have. Things have to take time I’ve been told; for all legal procedures to be done properly and effectively, time must be stretched and consumed.
For the welfare of the oppressed and the benefit of the innocent, things must take time.
But the oppressed and the innocent are in desperate need of justice, sometimes they cannot afford to wait until the time comes. Isn’t Justice about being served on time as well?? But whose time?
In this meantime, he gets to enjoy my blanket, MY BLANKET, the one I laid under when I needed to feel warm and protected, and the one I hid under when I needed to cry so that he wouldn’t hear me.
In the meantime, he keeps most of my stuff, that I don’t remember needing until I need to use them; like my pair of suede gloves that I barely ever wear, unless when my hands get extremely cold that they can’t get a good grip of the steering wheel. My older son would have gotten too big to ride his little car, and my younger boy would have gotten too big to find the special blanket I got big enough so that he can feel warm and comfy in it.
My dad finds these things trivial, most of those who read this blog will too; a part of me kinda does as well, but it’s how I feel nonetheless.
My dad tells me I could go buy whatever things I need; I am a buyer anyways, even if I had access to those. I am grateful I can afford buying other stuff, I really am alhamdulilah. But I want those, probably because I can’t have them or even because I don’t want him to have them.
He’s the one who should suffer and feel unstable and insecure, not me. He’s the one who should worry about all that and consider time his enemy, not me. Time is not being fair to me this way.
Ok, wait. I know I should not say that about time. I even know that the real justice is God, and that He makes things happen in a certain way and make them take certain time.
I know that my perception of time and justice is only human and so is the justice system.
I know the divine system works in different ways with different givens, and I believe.
I don’t know if believing counts when you’re as impatient as I am; I don’t even know if believing counts when you do it because you REALLY want to believe and because you know that if you don’t believe you will lose that solid ground you really need to feel underneath your feet right now.
I really want to believe that justice will prevail, and on time. The optimist in me believes; it’s the impatient me that struggles I guess, or the oppressed in me perhaps.
As for what he gets. I am not sure what shall be enough. Every time past events come to mind or any thought related to him really, I just don’t know if anything will be enough.
Again, I know God is fair and I know He will give him what he deserves, but I can’t help but wonder how would a person suffer and realize it’s because of his own doings when this person is too delusional to stop victimizing himself or stop perceiving himself as the oppressed not the oppressor.
This could be his eternal punishment, to always think of himself as the victim and never sees life as fair. A taste of his own medicine: the feeling that someone has wronged him, without the certainty that they will pay for that. Is that enough?
December 9, 2007
And THAT… is what is wrong with me!
My dad had a nasty accident last week. One of those trucks that carry cement was taking a U-turn and decided to jam itself right next to my dad’s car causing a HUGE dent on the left backdoor, ruining the whole left rear with it, and according to my sister, causing the wheels to squeak.
I am glad nothing happened to my father; other than him probably yelling his heart out at the driver and having his day ruined. But I have to say I am grateful he’s not hurt, I really am. I showed my gratitude by giving him a Chandler-and-Joey-awkward hug. I guess I have become emotionally crippled; I am not even sure if it’s because I have those genes or because I have been badly bruised!
The good news is that the driver and the legal consultant from his company have acknowledged responsibility for the accident and wrote a document stating that they shall pay the costs of getting the car fixed. However, they asked my dad/his lawyer to make an official statement at the police station so that the insurance company would take care of the expenses.
After sending the car to Peugeot, they received a report of the expected expenditure which went a little bit above 20 K. So, they tried negotiating with my dad to have it done elsewhere for a lower price, which of course my dad did not agree to. So they refrained from paying! Therefore, my dad is suing them; all determined that his case is strong since he has both a written acknowledgement and a documented police statement.
So, I was asking my dad yesterday before I went to bed, what was up with his car,
He briefly answered: “it’s getting fixed”
I asked “in Peugeot?”
Him: “no, samkary”
Me: “who’s paying?”
Him: “I am”
ME: *a huge puzzled look with the bit of wtf*
Him: “oh they will pay the amount as stated by Peugeot plus reimbursement.”
Me: “so why did u not compromise with them, instead of going to court?!!!!”
Him: “because they should not bargain, they should pay for the damage they caused and apologize, politely.”
Me: “so why r u not getting it fixed at Peugeot?????”
Him: “to spite them.”
The strange part is: it totally made sense to me.
I’ve been raised by that man, who believes that when you’ve been wronged, those who wronged you have no right to negotiate your terms; as a matter of fact, they should be glad you were civil enough to sit down and talk and they should show signs of remorse and acceptance of your logic, not question it and expect you to make compromises. This is one of the things he had passed to me.
And THAT ladies and gentlemen, is exactly what is wrong with me.
I am glad nothing happened to my father; other than him probably yelling his heart out at the driver and having his day ruined. But I have to say I am grateful he’s not hurt, I really am. I showed my gratitude by giving him a Chandler-and-Joey-awkward hug. I guess I have become emotionally crippled; I am not even sure if it’s because I have those genes or because I have been badly bruised!
The good news is that the driver and the legal consultant from his company have acknowledged responsibility for the accident and wrote a document stating that they shall pay the costs of getting the car fixed. However, they asked my dad/his lawyer to make an official statement at the police station so that the insurance company would take care of the expenses.
After sending the car to Peugeot, they received a report of the expected expenditure which went a little bit above 20 K. So, they tried negotiating with my dad to have it done elsewhere for a lower price, which of course my dad did not agree to. So they refrained from paying! Therefore, my dad is suing them; all determined that his case is strong since he has both a written acknowledgement and a documented police statement.
So, I was asking my dad yesterday before I went to bed, what was up with his car,
He briefly answered: “it’s getting fixed”
I asked “in Peugeot?”
Him: “no, samkary”
Me: “who’s paying?”
Him: “I am”
ME: *a huge puzzled look with the bit of wtf*
Him: “oh they will pay the amount as stated by Peugeot plus reimbursement.”
Me: “so why did u not compromise with them, instead of going to court?!!!!”
Him: “because they should not bargain, they should pay for the damage they caused and apologize, politely.”
Me: “so why r u not getting it fixed at Peugeot?????”
Him: “to spite them.”
The strange part is: it totally made sense to me.
I’ve been raised by that man, who believes that when you’ve been wronged, those who wronged you have no right to negotiate your terms; as a matter of fact, they should be glad you were civil enough to sit down and talk and they should show signs of remorse and acceptance of your logic, not question it and expect you to make compromises. This is one of the things he had passed to me.
And THAT ladies and gentlemen, is exactly what is wrong with me.
December 6, 2007
And here it goes…
Disclaimer: this post is one of my random emotional vomits, it is not a recommended read for those who have just gotten out of bad relationships… N, Nora and Jade: please do not read.
These are the facts…
I am strong. I am rational. I like myself the way I am. I am well aware of my flaws, and I acknowledge and accept them, sometimes I even make up for them when I think it is worth it. I do not indulge either in self pity or in delusions, and I totally resist getting depressed. When I get overwhelmed by negative feelings, I start making up funny things in my head so that I can start laughing the bad feelings away. Sometimes sarcasm helps more and sometimes finding someone who deserves some attitude helps.
Yes, I am over him. However, this does not mean that I am totally over the pain he caused; it still gets to me from time to time, and makes me act like a total bit$h.
With all the scars he left me (and I do keep finding out more scars everyday), I still believe that not all men are crap; I still believe that some are just as good as I once thought he was. Yet, I almost know for certain that I will NEVER get into any relationship again. The reason I used the word ‘almost’ is because I learned the hard way that when you say never, life kicks you in the @$$, so I am just avoiding life’s terrible sense of humor.
Now that I have stated the things I know for sure….
Here are the wonderings that keep getting to me from time to time…
During my daydreaming time, why does my mind always wander to those bad memories, like phrases that once broke my heart, or incidents that my heart chose to ignore, while my mind and instincts knew better?
Why do I think of her from time to time and compare his words to my perception of her in a futile attempt to tell the truths from the lies, while I am aware that no good shall ever come of it?
Why does every inch of my body ache that way? There is no reason for the bruises I have all over my arms and legs, the lumps I have on both sides of my neck and the muscular strain I have in my ribs area other than my bad mood. I don’t need health problems damn it. I was once much healthier than that, and I miss it. I am not sure if this is my body’s way of telling me that there is more damage than I admit or just its normal way of getting rid of the negativity that had been there for some time.
Until I am done with all that mind, soul and body cleansing, I have decided not to fight whatever emotions I am feeling; instead, I will just accept them and try to move on. I am neither happy like I was a couple of weeks ago, nor sad and heartbroken like I was six months ago; I am just trying to move on with the least damage possible.
These are the facts…
I am strong. I am rational. I like myself the way I am. I am well aware of my flaws, and I acknowledge and accept them, sometimes I even make up for them when I think it is worth it. I do not indulge either in self pity or in delusions, and I totally resist getting depressed. When I get overwhelmed by negative feelings, I start making up funny things in my head so that I can start laughing the bad feelings away. Sometimes sarcasm helps more and sometimes finding someone who deserves some attitude helps.
Yes, I am over him. However, this does not mean that I am totally over the pain he caused; it still gets to me from time to time, and makes me act like a total bit$h.
With all the scars he left me (and I do keep finding out more scars everyday), I still believe that not all men are crap; I still believe that some are just as good as I once thought he was. Yet, I almost know for certain that I will NEVER get into any relationship again. The reason I used the word ‘almost’ is because I learned the hard way that when you say never, life kicks you in the @$$, so I am just avoiding life’s terrible sense of humor.
Now that I have stated the things I know for sure….
Here are the wonderings that keep getting to me from time to time…
During my daydreaming time, why does my mind always wander to those bad memories, like phrases that once broke my heart, or incidents that my heart chose to ignore, while my mind and instincts knew better?
Why do I think of her from time to time and compare his words to my perception of her in a futile attempt to tell the truths from the lies, while I am aware that no good shall ever come of it?
Why does every inch of my body ache that way? There is no reason for the bruises I have all over my arms and legs, the lumps I have on both sides of my neck and the muscular strain I have in my ribs area other than my bad mood. I don’t need health problems damn it. I was once much healthier than that, and I miss it. I am not sure if this is my body’s way of telling me that there is more damage than I admit or just its normal way of getting rid of the negativity that had been there for some time.
Until I am done with all that mind, soul and body cleansing, I have decided not to fight whatever emotions I am feeling; instead, I will just accept them and try to move on. I am neither happy like I was a couple of weeks ago, nor sad and heartbroken like I was six months ago; I am just trying to move on with the least damage possible.
December 5, 2007
If I am not depressed, then why can I not control my negative emotions?
Your EQ is 107 |
 You're a bit moody, and sometimes you have trouble coping with every day life.But you're by no means depressed, and your good days definitely out number your bad days. There's nothing really wrong with your life, but you may not be living up to your actual potential.Negative emotions can be a real drain of your energy, so make sure you have them under control. |
December 4, 2007
Every time I think of her…
Someone has hurt her… really scarred her. For some reason, she would never tell me, and for the very same reason, I would never ask!
I tried to get closer, tell her stories that could help her with whatever she’s struggling to accept, even show her some of my scars to let her know that we all have those, but her response even scared me more.
I am left with too much confusion; I don’t know if I should pretend like I have no idea whatsoever, which I don’t, or give her special treatment that would not hurt her vulnerability.
Sometimes she gets on my nerves and I want to yell at her, but I try to hold back because I am afraid she’s too brittle to the extent that a thoughtless word would break her.
I hold back, not just because I cherish her dearly, but also because sometimes I wish people would do the same with me.
Back to her, I don’t think I want to know what happened, unless she wants to tell. All I want is to know she’s back on her feet and that her scar won’t hurt if people pour salt on it, because truth is, they will.
And to whoever or whatever caused her that much pain, I say: “HOW COULD YOU, she definitely did not deserve that!! She was in a place much better than I have ever been”. It boggles my mind because when my life fell to pieces I knew I was to blame for the mistakes I realize I’ve done along the way, but her; she was really pure! She has always been the better one.
Bottom line: I look at her, and I feel life is sad and unfair to some people. I look at her and think that sometimes people have to take what they can’t handle, and she definitely couldn’t handle whatever it is she took. I remember that nightmare I had of her almost three years ago that made me wake up screaming, and I feel this strong pain in my heart all over again.
I tried to get closer, tell her stories that could help her with whatever she’s struggling to accept, even show her some of my scars to let her know that we all have those, but her response even scared me more.
I am left with too much confusion; I don’t know if I should pretend like I have no idea whatsoever, which I don’t, or give her special treatment that would not hurt her vulnerability.
Sometimes she gets on my nerves and I want to yell at her, but I try to hold back because I am afraid she’s too brittle to the extent that a thoughtless word would break her.
I hold back, not just because I cherish her dearly, but also because sometimes I wish people would do the same with me.
Back to her, I don’t think I want to know what happened, unless she wants to tell. All I want is to know she’s back on her feet and that her scar won’t hurt if people pour salt on it, because truth is, they will.
And to whoever or whatever caused her that much pain, I say: “HOW COULD YOU, she definitely did not deserve that!! She was in a place much better than I have ever been”. It boggles my mind because when my life fell to pieces I knew I was to blame for the mistakes I realize I’ve done along the way, but her; she was really pure! She has always been the better one.
Bottom line: I look at her, and I feel life is sad and unfair to some people. I look at her and think that sometimes people have to take what they can’t handle, and she definitely couldn’t handle whatever it is she took. I remember that nightmare I had of her almost three years ago that made me wake up screaming, and I feel this strong pain in my heart all over again.
December 3, 2007
All over again…
The same trembling…The same stomach clenching… The same troubles breathing…Yes, it’s the same anger and the same anxiety!
But why? I have found my peace! I know what I don’t want; I know I don’t want him.
Why do I get startled each time he calls? Why does he come to my mind when people talk about relationships? And why do people ask me about him all the time? Will they stop asking if I tell them he’s a piece of shit that I no longer want to have anything to do with?
I no longer want to say his name or talk like we’re still married. I want to free my ring finger from him. I want to be able to forget wearing the ring before I go out without having my father glaring at me, reminding me I am still married. I remember, I remember all that; what I want is to forget.
Yes, I think I want to forget it ever happened. I want that memory wiped off my mind for good.
He’s become not just a bitter memory, but also a scary one. I have no reason why, but he scares the shit out of me. How can I fear him that way? I guess I fear him the same way I fear a cockroach. I know it can’t harm me, but I jump and scream hysterically when I see one.
I want my seven years back. I am willing to give away all the lessons I learned. I want my seven years back.
Yes, I am freaking out. The child in me is freaking out and I have no one to turn to for I have made everyone believe I am stronger than that and I am not willing to admit otherwise. I am not ok with anyone feeling sorry for me or worrying about me. No one can help me and I am well aware of that.
I want my seven years back like they never happened. This way I can have my nana back too, this way I would still be talking with K. I am willing to refund all the good stuff that happened in those seven years if I can have them back and start all over again.
I want to start all over again, instead of looking back and thinking “Once upon a tulip…”
But why? I have found my peace! I know what I don’t want; I know I don’t want him.
Why do I get startled each time he calls? Why does he come to my mind when people talk about relationships? And why do people ask me about him all the time? Will they stop asking if I tell them he’s a piece of shit that I no longer want to have anything to do with?
I no longer want to say his name or talk like we’re still married. I want to free my ring finger from him. I want to be able to forget wearing the ring before I go out without having my father glaring at me, reminding me I am still married. I remember, I remember all that; what I want is to forget.
Yes, I think I want to forget it ever happened. I want that memory wiped off my mind for good.
He’s become not just a bitter memory, but also a scary one. I have no reason why, but he scares the shit out of me. How can I fear him that way? I guess I fear him the same way I fear a cockroach. I know it can’t harm me, but I jump and scream hysterically when I see one.
I want my seven years back. I am willing to give away all the lessons I learned. I want my seven years back.
Yes, I am freaking out. The child in me is freaking out and I have no one to turn to for I have made everyone believe I am stronger than that and I am not willing to admit otherwise. I am not ok with anyone feeling sorry for me or worrying about me. No one can help me and I am well aware of that.
I want my seven years back like they never happened. This way I can have my nana back too, this way I would still be talking with K. I am willing to refund all the good stuff that happened in those seven years if I can have them back and start all over again.
I want to start all over again, instead of looking back and thinking “Once upon a tulip…”
December 2, 2007
10 years ago…
10 years ago, I had the best vacation of my life; I dare say much better than my honeymoon (and it has nothing to do with the current events).
It was the year where there was bombing activity in Hatshepsut Temple. I remember that because I kept telling my dad that his attempts to get us killed had escalated to a new level.
The trip was organized by his old friends from college; most of them are family friends to us. We were supposed to meet on an early morning, take a bus from Alexandria to Cairo, then take a Plane from Cairo to Aswan, where we take a Nile Cruise from Aswan to Luxor stopping by all the touristic places, and finally take a plane from Luxor to Cairo, and a bus back to Alexandria. You say why Alex… it’s because my dad is Alexandrian; hence, most of his college friends reside there.
It was around 10 friends of his in addition to their families which summed up to… I am not sure of the number, we were too many people, most of us already knew each other and it was FUN.
I spent 5 days barely sleeping at all, which is not new with my insomnia and all; the big deal was that I spent that time with people; we did all sorts of group games and had as much fun as I almost never had in one trip.
I will always remember my friend O and how the two us used to listen to the same albums each on her own walkman (I did say it was 10 years ago), O’s brother A and their cousin D fighting over who would sit next to N. Y being all charming like always and gathering all the girls and boys around him with his interesting stories and amazing sense of humor. K’s lovable smile and continuous sarcasm of his mother along with Y. A and N and their sweet baby mariam who is probably a teenager now, H and M with the cutest baby ever, youssef, whom I will always think of as the perfect child despite his uncle Y’s attempts to ruin that image by taking photos of him with bottles of alcohol. K’s freaky laugh, which would scare people away, and my two sisters, with their now-abandoned glasses looking extra nerdy as they walked around with books.
I will always remember the photos O and I took of Y whenever he did anything, like falling asleep in the bus, drinking water, getting out of his room in Pjs or even taking a pause on the toilet to see if we were gonna take that photo for real (which I did despite my laughter and strong urge to pee myself). I remember that the two of us had a crush on that guy but we were too proud to admit liking a guy because of his looks and charm.
I will always secretly wish to hurt my dad for removing all Y’s photos along with the rest of the photos with only the guys because ‘I got married, and my husband wouldn’t like to see that much photos of me with guys’. This reminds me, I want to ask him where he had put them, and he better not say he threw them away.
My dad told me a couple of weeks ago that we shall go on another trip to Luxor. The first words that came out of my mouth were: “I want the same group as the last time; it would be weird because we’re no longer teenagers and most of us have kids, but pleeeeeease tell your friends to join and bring their kids”.
Despite my hopes that the same people would join, or at least most of them, I know it will different, for all of us are 10 years older now. I am not sure I will be that happy this time, I am not sure I will be able to look O in the eye and tell her the husband is on a business trip when she asks me how come he didn’t join.
That’s the thing, as much as I love those people, I wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing my problems with them. None of them has known me well enough for me to do that, and it goes both ways. I think this is why we like hanging around each other; we remind one another of the good old innocent days when we were nothing but kids, before life gave us scars that we deny having when we are together.
If I had a choice, I would go back in time to relive that trip, and stay there.
It was the year where there was bombing activity in Hatshepsut Temple. I remember that because I kept telling my dad that his attempts to get us killed had escalated to a new level.
The trip was organized by his old friends from college; most of them are family friends to us. We were supposed to meet on an early morning, take a bus from Alexandria to Cairo, then take a Plane from Cairo to Aswan, where we take a Nile Cruise from Aswan to Luxor stopping by all the touristic places, and finally take a plane from Luxor to Cairo, and a bus back to Alexandria. You say why Alex… it’s because my dad is Alexandrian; hence, most of his college friends reside there.
It was around 10 friends of his in addition to their families which summed up to… I am not sure of the number, we were too many people, most of us already knew each other and it was FUN.
I spent 5 days barely sleeping at all, which is not new with my insomnia and all; the big deal was that I spent that time with people; we did all sorts of group games and had as much fun as I almost never had in one trip.
I will always remember my friend O and how the two us used to listen to the same albums each on her own walkman (I did say it was 10 years ago), O’s brother A and their cousin D fighting over who would sit next to N. Y being all charming like always and gathering all the girls and boys around him with his interesting stories and amazing sense of humor. K’s lovable smile and continuous sarcasm of his mother along with Y. A and N and their sweet baby mariam who is probably a teenager now, H and M with the cutest baby ever, youssef, whom I will always think of as the perfect child despite his uncle Y’s attempts to ruin that image by taking photos of him with bottles of alcohol. K’s freaky laugh, which would scare people away, and my two sisters, with their now-abandoned glasses looking extra nerdy as they walked around with books.
I will always remember the photos O and I took of Y whenever he did anything, like falling asleep in the bus, drinking water, getting out of his room in Pjs or even taking a pause on the toilet to see if we were gonna take that photo for real (which I did despite my laughter and strong urge to pee myself). I remember that the two of us had a crush on that guy but we were too proud to admit liking a guy because of his looks and charm.
I will always secretly wish to hurt my dad for removing all Y’s photos along with the rest of the photos with only the guys because ‘I got married, and my husband wouldn’t like to see that much photos of me with guys’. This reminds me, I want to ask him where he had put them, and he better not say he threw them away.
My dad told me a couple of weeks ago that we shall go on another trip to Luxor. The first words that came out of my mouth were: “I want the same group as the last time; it would be weird because we’re no longer teenagers and most of us have kids, but pleeeeeease tell your friends to join and bring their kids”.
Despite my hopes that the same people would join, or at least most of them, I know it will different, for all of us are 10 years older now. I am not sure I will be that happy this time, I am not sure I will be able to look O in the eye and tell her the husband is on a business trip when she asks me how come he didn’t join.
That’s the thing, as much as I love those people, I wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing my problems with them. None of them has known me well enough for me to do that, and it goes both ways. I think this is why we like hanging around each other; we remind one another of the good old innocent days when we were nothing but kids, before life gave us scars that we deny having when we are together.
If I had a choice, I would go back in time to relive that trip, and stay there.
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