Trouble in mind…*

Trouble in mind, I'm blue...

Too much of that in my poor head; thoughts that battle with me one after the other, they mingle and tangle until I’m too tired to take any of them or figure them apart one at a time!

Trouble in mind, that's true
I have almost lost my mind,
Ain't never had so much
Trouble in my life before

In a futile attempt I try to trace everything back to where it began, hoping that by doing so I’d be able to understand, and perhaps find much needed solutions. Unfortunately, it’s too far behind; so I just take the lead from the here and now.

I am a 28-year old single mom who is basically judged by her own family whether they admit to it or not. Until now, my parents try to dodge being asked about my marital status and when they’re left with no choice but admitting it, they say it in a low tone of voice and while looking away! Instead of being referred to as the rebel and the trouble maker like before, I am rather the failure or the shameful disappointment, although they acknowledge and explain that it was the best thing to do!

My motherhood is questioned each and every day, not just by me, but by those who should know better about my needs and know nothing about motherhood! I mean, my dad’s job was to provide, I’m grateful he did more than that and shaped us in a way my mom would have never been able to… but I provide too, and I try to find the patience and the energy to shape my boys, problem is, I am still not exactly shaped myself!!! Ma, I… well… I see mothers in a lot of other women her age, but in her; I saw it in my late nana (Allah yer7amha), I saw it in S (Allah yer7amha), I see it in so many of my tants who perhaps think I am an ungrateful daughter because she complains all the time and because I get hurt silently and let my pride handle it by walking away. My sisters know nothing of responsibilities and living up to them; they want to chase their own butterflies, but they just don’t get that I was denied chasing mine. I am not envious, but they don’t get to tell me I should spend more time being a mother, because may be I need the previous butterfly-chasing experience to be a mom, and until they're better mothers themselves, they should just stop with the insulting advice and implications.

I did marry too young. I thought marrying someone for love would be the best way to escape all the control and suffocation at home and have a lifelong companion with whom I could just live my youth before I settle and build the family. It never happened, not for long enough anyways, because unlike me, he wanted to live up to whatever this society dictated, and well, we react differently, and his reaction sucked big time. Unfortunately, it gravely affected my life and changed it beyond any attempts to undo the change!

I wish I could just explain that forcing me to grow up will not make me a grown up, at least not as gracefully as I would like! But hey, everyone knows much better about that, even those who never even tried on my shoes! The arrogance! Why do I have it in me to listen to those who choose to block their ears to my explanations?!

I still can’t believe I’m 28! I still feel like 19 most of the time; my dreams since then never exactly came to reality; not that I want the same dreams, but I lack the fulfillment of having changed my mind because I chose to, rather than adjusted to the changes that took over my life.

I have the remains of a teenage-anger and the need to go all over the place and make things happen. I have a dreamer who’s constantly being told it’s too late to dream and it’s time to check in with reality and do as requested. The free spirited rebel refuses those words but it’s tied down and has nothing to show but anger and resentment.

Trouble in mind, I'm blue
But I won't be blue always…

But then, the optimist in me keeps repeating that all can be done; all can be achieved given time and patience.

I so want to believe it because otherwise, I will just lose… lose all the losses I have already lost over and over again!

'Cause the sun's gonna shine
In my backdoor some day.

In the midst of all my thoughts, I realize that tears are overflowing from my eyes like they haven’t in a long time. I touch my eyes and my face in the dark, and I pat my own cheeks as I whisper “it will be ok, it will be ok… no, it won’t be ok… but you will be ok, you will be ok”

Well it's trouble, oh trouble,
Trouble on my worried mind…
When you see me laughin',
I'm laughin' just to keep from cryin'

I keep telling myself “you’ll be ok, you’ll be ok”

'Cause the sun's gonna shine
In my backdoor some day.

* Song Tribute: Trouble in Mind by the amazing Nina Simone; I couldn’t find the version I have with all the lyrics on utube, but this is the one with the best piano by Nina, do check it out; it’s inspiring!

Homeless…

I was running an errand and I had to go to a home appliances and hardware store, and it hit me right there…

I am homeless.

I have been since I gave birth to my Beem! Since then, I lived with my in-laws and my sense of belonging to my own home vanished one day after the other; I couldn’t do my laundry whenever I wanted, yet I had to do it before anyone else beat me to it, making me look and feel like an incompetent wife. My life became even more stressful because I felt like a guest in addition to dealing with being a new mom. I kept failing one task after the other because I was spread too thin.

After I gave birth to my Mocha, I was back to my parents’, and until last May, I was struggling for my divorce. I have a room separate from the rest of the household, it has its own bathroom and it’s own “living”. However, I could never really do any of the little random purchases for none of the things I bought matched or belonged to my parents’ place, just like I no longer belong.

I stood there, staring at the laundry hamper trying to figure out if I shall buy it and keep it in my stuffed room anyways! The thought led to how I need to re-paint the damn room and get a closet to fit all our stuff in it, one thought led to the other and the final conclusion was clear, I do not have a home.

I know it’s a roof above my head and my kids’, but it’s not a home, not my home. I constantly feel like I have to abide by rules I supposedly outgrew just because I live under that roof. I am forced to go to Alex whenever there’s a family event, I am forced to go on vacations, I abide by dumb curfews because I do not want to upset my dad and because I owe them that little for taking care of me and my kids! Well, day after another, I feel less loved in this place, and it is most likely my oversensitivity, but I constantly feel used and disposable in a sense, and I don’t have the right to object because it’s not my place.

I need my place. I need to sit down and write how much it will cost me to move out and start making a plan, and follow it. I have no idea if it’s the right thing to do for either myself or my kids, but I am no longer sure what’s right; there are no guidelines, and every freakin’ thing is relative and all I know is that I can’t go on like that anymore!!

Every freakin’ time…

Me: but do I really have to come? Can’t you just go and leave me with the boys??

Baba: *in a firm tone* no, we’re going with friends, you need to be there for them; moreover, you and the boys could use a change of scenery away from the daily routine.

Mama: why are you so upset? you could use the fun…

Me: *interrupting with utter frustration* but there is NEVER any fun, I drive long distances while everyone else other than baba and whoever else driving gets their share of rest. We arrive and the kids are too active while I’m drained. Everyone wants to go discover places that are not necessarily kids friends, so either I am stuck ALONE with them in the room or a play area, or join to a place where I have to keep chasing them while screaming at the top of my lungs. No fun for me. And when we have breakfast or dinner, everyone keeps looking at me like I’m supposed to put them on leash and muffle their little mouths with food or go entertain them elsewhere so that everybody else can have their meal quietly! At the end of the trip, everyone had their fun, EXCEPT ME; and neither have I kept company of my friends, enjoyed a quiet night scene by the pool or the beach, and sometimes I don’t even get to see the beach because my kids would jump there and no one would help!!

We have this very same fight every single time friends visit from out of town and we go vacationing! In every single trip, comes a moment when my mom yells at me in front of our friends, pointing out that those are my kids and I should not be having any fun or ME-time until they’re old enough! And every single time, I end up in an empty hotel room faced by how tired I am of it all, and I sit on the very same edge of the bed and stare at the half-opened luggage as I fight the tears from pouring out of my eyes!!

Am I the only one who sees it? There is kids time every weekend when I take them out with or without their dad, there is ME-time after hours with friends alone, which by the way, I seem to steal away, or worse, when my friends bail, I end up trying to spend it and enjoy it on my own because that’s the only break I get!!! And those vacations freakin’ suck…

And mama and her hurtful ways as always… ok I get she wants to be with her friends bla bla bla… but hello, this woman barely kept any of her friends to begin with! The only ones she has are the wives of baba’s friends.

And yes, I know those are MY kids, I should be responsible, not her. But who is she to judge, ever since I can remember it was always “inso, take care of your sisters… don’t let them stray… take them with your friends…” and I am four years older than my sister, and 6 years older than baby sis!!

AND, on our last vacation, I left my kids with my parents and they left their with me. Normally, there would be no comparison since my sisters are old enough to take care of themselves, BUT NOOOOOO, she would call me and ask me about every single meal they had, and whine about how mine are driving her crazy. For the love of GOD, I cried so many nights on that vacation because of the stress she caused!! And when baby sis decided to take off to a different city on her own, I was the one who was left to take all the blame from every family member who had my number!! I was the one who managed the luggage, and paid the difference for the extra weight (because “you have more money”). So I was forced to take charge because “enty el kebeera” just like I am expected to act all responsible 3ashan “enty mamethom”

I look back and I can’t stop thinking that I never had MY TIME where I was the one to be taken care of, and it feels so freakin’ unfair, and yet no one else sees it and no one wants to give me a break because “it’s her responsibility and her role” what a load of BS!

So now, I am in an empty hotel room, both of the boys went to prayers with my parents and their friends after mama made the usual scene in front of a different tant and uncle and baba decided to just wrap things up.

I could go to the beach and have me-time, or join the girls (my sisters and my friend), but my mood is all ruined now and my back still hurts from a very exhausting week. I will just sulk in bed until I feel like I can put on my smile and my friendly posture, or until they’re back.

I really wanted to have fun, but it’s too much effort when no one understands what it’s like to be you!

My sweet sweet uncle!!

Late at night after everyone went to bed…

Him: so how are you?
Me: *smiling* I am fine alhamdulilah
Him: and what are your plans?
Me: *babbled on an on about what I plan on doing with my “career” for about 10 whole minutes*
Him: *in a calm tone* I was not asking about your career, I was asking about your personal life
Me: *smiling confusingly*
Him: *almost laughing and using random arm gestures* no one asked me to talk to you about anything I promise…
Me: *interrupting* Khalo, I will get me some water because I’m thirsty and I’ll be back
Him: *laughing* 3ashan tebbala3y kalamy??
Me: Abadan wallahy, bas 3atshana we shaklak 3ayez tetkallem we tenashefly ree2y!

After I got my water…

Me: I have no plans for my personal life… I go to work, I go home spend time with my boys, go out with friends occasionally, the routine family activities and that’s it!
Him: you don’t have plans for what’s next, I mean you don’t want to get married again???
Me: *almost choking on my water* khalo, marriage is not something I’d look forward to
Him: leeh, you’re young, you have your life ahead of you, mat2oleeesh et3a2adti!
Me: *laughing* la2 mat3a2adtesh, bas at this point of my life, I have realized that I never lived for me, and I am also aware that I have two kids of whom I have take care, and between them and myself, I don’t have the time or the energy to work on a relationship, and marriage is just HARD!
Him: it is, but again, you should not be against the concept…
Me: I didn’t exactly say I was against it (I couldn’t tell him what I thought point blank, he would seizure if I do), but let’s look at it from a realistic perspective… marriage is not an easy thing, and we’re a generation of spoilt brats who barely get what marriage really is; I’ve been in an out and I still haven’t figured it out!! Aaand don’t forget, I already have two amazing boys, and I do not want to have any more kids… so marriage is not exactly something I would want!
Him: da sa7ee7, bas bardu you should not rule it out!
Me: *smiling bekhabasa* enta gayebly 3arees walla eh???
Him: *smiling in a way I couldn’t really tell* ya3ne, perhaps I might be of help in that department!
Me: ok, if you find someone whom you think is good enough for me, tell him you have a niece who’s already divorced with two boys, who does not want to have any more kids, who has quite the strong character and is extremely stubborn, she's also opinionated and takes pride to an unhealthy extreme, and finally, she is very particular and picky about everything… and to top it all, she has serious spending issues mostly because she does not realize how much she spends because she doesn’t know how to work numbers in her head… law fedel interested, I’d like to meet him; however, I’m sure that would pretty much scare him off
Him: *looking at me awy* what you said is not all bad, don’t say it like they’re bad things… ya3ne except for the crazy-buying syndrome, which I have too, and apparently it’s genetic!
Me: I never said they were bad things, but they’re who I am and I know it’s a hard thing for a man in our culture to accept... and I really don’t think there are enough men who are good enough for me, as in have it in them to make me happy… oh, tell him also that I have too much ego and think very highly of myself, obviously!!!
Him: ya insomniac, feh nas kowayesa… you can’t rule out the possibility 3ashan you had a bad experience!
Me: ya khalo I know… I just don’t believe en el nas el kowayesa dool keteer, and given how few they are, the possibility of finding among them someone who’d take me the way that I am and be compatible with me are pretty slim, so again, to want to get married again does not make sense if the chances of finding my definition of “good enough candidate” are that slim!
Him: *thinking and nodding*ana fahmek… ana bas 3ayez attamen en you’re moving on and that you have it in you to enjoy your life to the fullest and not let your previous experience ruin any potential chances in your future
Me: *smiling* don’t worry; I’ll try to keep an open mind! But let me tell you this, I don’t need a man or that kind of relationship to live my life to the fullest… I have two amazing boys who need a lot of work, and in sha2 Allah it will be rewarding… and I have good friends who provide me with the company and support I need to survive… and I have a kindhearted dysfunctional family whom I know would stand by my side when I really need it…
Him: *laughing*
Me: sorry about that last part, but you know how we all are!
Him: *nodding* el mohem eny mabsoot enny shayfek kowayessa we 3arfa en mesh de akher el denya!
Me: *smiling so hard and having strong urges to give him a gratitude hug, but surrendering to my inability to show this kind of affection* ana mabsoota enak mabsoot… mesh hatnam ba2a, enta hates7a badry el mafrood (that was my way of showing concern, ya 3eini ya khalo!)
Him: *standing up* ah, yalla tesba7y 3ala kheir…
Me: *standing up and walking behind him* wenta men ahloh

Like I said, my sweet sweet uncle!!!

In theory and in practice…

As a child, I remember being called “noisy”, “restless”, and “smart-mouth”; I distinctively remember fragments of incidents where people asked me to “pipe down” or “be quiet”, or the infamous “shhhhh”. Yet, I don’t recall being hated for it; I was the apple of my late nana’s eye, my uncle spoilt me rotten, actually all three from mama’s side, not to even mention my youngest two aunts!! I was the grandchild for mama’s side, except for my late grandfather, we disliked each other! As for baba’s side, I distinctively remember how kind my late grandpa was; I can fairly say I loved him. The rest of baba’s side is on the usual good and sometimes not so goodd terms, which is normal given that we live in two different cities.

Probably something changed along the way when I was a teenager. I became more observing and less noisy for I didn’t have any significant mishaps at school that would require my parents showing in for any explanation. I was the kid no one noticed really, but I had an opinion about everyone I’ve encountered. When I tell people that I was rather shy at school, they roll their eyes as they say something like “ya moftareya, you, shy?!” And it never feels like compliment by the way!!

I remember whenever we travelled abroad during those times, my dad would push me out of the car (by yelling at me) to walk to the convenience store in the gas station and ask for directions, 2al eh “khaleeky garee2a”. Of course, until now, I am still sure that it was about the whole men-don’t-ask-for-directions thing. Bottom line, my dad always insisted that I should be roughened up, mostly because “al ne3ma tazool” and secretly because he did not have boys and I was his first born.

I never realized I took so much after him until a prof atcollege who happened to have have graduated from the same college as my dad said “fe3lan, man shabah abah...”! Turns out that my dad was a real trouble maker –like I was in college-, the kind who stands up for what he thought was right and never backed down until he got what he thought was his, except that I did better than he did academically!

Everyone I know who happens to know my father says that I take too much after him, I must have mentioned that quite a few times. Even the things, I don’t take after him are pretty much influenced by him; a few people told me I am that strong because of the way he raised me and I am that tough on myself because I don’t want him to be tough on me. Possibly true.

In summary, I am strong, opinionated, stubborn, proud, kindhearted, responsible, ethically and morally aware, hot blooded, emotional and passionate, capable of using logic, socially smart because I am what he made me. In theory it is like the perfect result for an equation that took 28 years to balance.

In practice, it means NOTHING.

I am strong, but I have deadly weaknesses. Actually, my strengths and weaknesses are very hard to separate; I am deadly stubborn for my own good, but it is how I manage to stand up and not fall, I am borderline masochist in a rhetorical sense because I am too proud to be caught in fault by other, so my conscience (the big bully) takes it all out on me and no one else!!

I am opinionated, but I can lose my focus sometimes because of my kindheartedness, not to mention my stubbornness and my ridiculous pride.

I am forced by myself (and my obligations) to act responsible 80% of the time, which is really hard because I am a 28 year old who still refuses to see anything but a 4 year-old in her mirror image.

As for my so called sense of logic, it’s a joke when faced by my blind passion when I am emotional about something. Don’t I have my dad’s passion after all? I can cry when I am talking about someone I love, or imagine what it’s like for someone to lose a loved one! Isn't death one of the most logical things! I have my dad's crippled-emotions syndrome; until today, I don't know how to just lay in father's arms and cry when I am in distress.

And my ethics and morals, they are challenged on daily basis living in this world and having to deal with things I was never subjected to. things I never thought existed!! Turns out, I only have those ethics and morals because I only lived in my dad’s bubble where it was so darn easy to practice them!!

And socially smart is the biggest joke. It goes down the drain the moment I step out of that bubble; I am constantly stuggling in my head trying to figure out people based on their reactions and lies and pretenses, as much as they’re probably baffled by my honesty and unexplained friendliness or rudeness, not to mention my ever changing moods.

I am a big mess that my father made, and I love him to pieces for it, and I am rather grateful on my good days.

But today, I feel like I was asked to change all that, for him to have more peace of mind because he worries and he would hate for me to get hurt again because of the nasty world we live in, the nasty world he never told me existed or prepared me for!

I love my daddy. I generally love my messy self most of the time. I would change some of who I am for my dad or for the people I sincerely care for, but I would never change for a society for which I have no respect.

I know, not exactly wise, but who said I had one ounce of wisdom in me.

The only reason I could possibly (and very remotely) care about what people think of me is because now I know how badly it affects my dad when people say anything less than how amazing and great I am!!

It makes me want to cry when I think of how disappointed he might be at me because of an insensitive word when I know that deep down he is actually proud! It breaks my heart to even think of all the things he would feel when he is reminded that I am not that perfect. The thought of upsetting him horrifies because I know I'd want nothing but my own death the moment he leaves this world even if I leave my boys behind (like a 4 year old, I pray each day that his day never comes).

That’s why I keep crying like a baby when I remember how he asked me to act more like a divorcee and mind what people may think of me. He said it while affirming that he knows I do no wrong. He said it admitting what he never exactly acknowledged before “da mogtama3 qazer”. But daddy, you never told me how rotten this society is and you left me to find that out on my own in the most scarring ways, and I know I have a lot to yet learn that I wish I wouldn’t .

I don’t know how to practice all I know is right in theory, yet keep my head held high when I worry about you daddy holding yours high if you worry that much about the scum of our society! We Kaman ana lessa ma3amaltesh 7aga astahel 3aleeha kol da!

On being a parent, the things they never told me!

I know I am not alone and I surely know I have it a lot better than other people, alhamdulilah.

However, that does not deny me the right to rant and wonder how to make it better, no???

So here is the deal…

I have two boys, ages (almost) 4 and 2, we live with my family (father, mother, two sisters), my father is usually away Wednesdays to Saturdays and the boys see their dad on Fridays.

Anyone who’s followed my blog long enough would know for a fact that the their father is “zay 3adamo” as an efficient father figure; his only job is to spoil them rotten in the sense of “you’re missing out on lots of fun” which the kids do not pick up on much due to their short attention span. Their father is the same guy who calls me on my cell phone around 5 times when I take a bathroom break away from them and decide to sit down and have coffee to help me survive the stressful outing. AND, he’s the very same guy who keeps receipts of clothes, toys and meals he buys them!!!!! Do I really need to say more?!

I love my kids to pieces; I mean yeah, I whine 30 hours a day about how I miss being just myself without worrying about others the way I do... and yeah I run away in outings with friends whenever possible… but when I am out and I see other people’s kids within the same age as mine, I almost cry because I miss them!! I almost feel my uterus contracting like when they used to be in it and kick!!!!! It makes me feel guilty, an emotion I am not that much used to… momken awy la2enny 7aloofa!

That’s still not the issue; that was an introduction because I am a very talkative person…

Beem (my almost 4 year old) as cute as he is, is showing signs of needing tarbeyah, which I think is critical at his age if I want him to be a half decent human being at some stage of his life, hopefully right after surviving the horrid teenage years.

Looks wise, I think he looks a lot like me despite how everyone keeps saying he takes more after his dad. The reason I am mentioning the looks is that I don’t want anyone out there saying that I am emotionally unstable because he reminds me of his dad that way.

But the poor thing takes after his dad; he’s too analytical, he has very selective memory, he LOVES preaching and arguing like there’s no tomorrow, he never takes the blame and when he does it’s ALWAYS justified, and he uses his charm to get away with EVERYTHING!! For the astrological people out there, his dad is Libra and he’s Virgo; these are more or less the stuff they have in common as sunsigns too!

Now, I keep reminding myself that those things are general things about kids, but let me be accurate; he takes them to the next level!!! And I also realize few of those are good stuff if they’re developed the right way, but I don’t know how to, especially that they remind me of his dad a lot which makes me overreact, yes, I am aware that I do overreact and I am trying to control it!

I appreciate Beem’s IQ, and I love how he is so analytical to the extent that he doesn’t miss a single detail! I like how he remembers things I said; it keeps me on my toes keeping all the promises I make him, but it drives me crazy how he would just pretend to not remember my specific instructions, yes I know he’s only 4, but I have lately realized I can be a perfectionist Nazi (and an ethics Nazi like my friend was telling me)! His arguing skills impress me; very few people leave me speechless the way he does, but the kid has to know at some point that it can be annoying like hell!! And I won’t even comment on placing blame and getting out of it with charm, it makes me want to kill him, and then I look at his cute little face and I want to keep kissing his cheeks and eyes; he’s my CUTE Beem!!

And there’s another problem, the kid barely hangs with people from his gender aside from the rest of boys at the daycare! Between my dad being away and being entitled as a grandparent to spoil him rotten and his dad being a spoilt brat, I don’t have a strong authoritative figure who can also be a role model, which leaves me to do that role! Like I needed more reason to be more “man-like”! Now, I yell in thick scary voice when I have to, I do the threatening walk, and sometimes I hit… my heart aches when I overhear my mom telling him “hatesma3 el kalam walla 2a2ool le mama 3aleik” the way she used to tell me “haaaah, 2a2ool le baba!!”; I don't want to be the bad guy to my kids, not that kind of bad guy anyways... I've always pictured us being more like friends, not really happening :'(

I hate it when I am angry at him, especially that he is so sensitive; all I really want is for him to be able to realize right and wrong on his own and stand up and admit it when he’s wrong and be a man about it!! I realize very few men behave that way, and I realize the little thing is not even 4 yet, and I can tell I am being cruel, but I am scared of the alternative!! I don’t want to be one of those parents who bring more jerks into the world and end up defending their sick actions because there’s nothing that they can do about it!! My friend tells me that being too righteous is just as bad because it might actually lead to the same outcome, and the sad thing is that he’s right and I know it, but it’s HARD to figure out a balance, let alone keeping it!!

And that was just Beem!!!

I have double the worry about Mocha because he copycats his own brother and adds up more attitude since he’s the trouble maker!! I also have to watch out for sibling jealousy and be really smart about it when one of them tries to get the other in trouble (Mocha is a master doing it to Beem!!!), and I have to be very subtle about teaching them a lesson and being fair especially with how hillarious Mocha is (I respond better to good sense of humor than I do to charm!)

I feel tired just writing this, I can’t even imagine having to live it day to day, let alone doing it right!

I love them, I REALLY do, but I keep thinking “I didn’t sign up for this, I wasn’t even that enthusiastic about becoming a mother” (yeah not so motherly of me to say it!!)… A friend of my father laughs and tells me “if you do all the things your dad did with you, you’ll be safe; you and your sisters turned out great”, as sweet as it is, it’s not exactly true; MOREOVER, I am not the father in this scenario, I am the single mother and it makes it twice as hard especially when the other party is such a bad influence and barely acts as any sort of support!!
I don’t know how to be like my father when I still feel like one BIG child myself! I don’t think I’m fit to behave like an adult just yet!! I see now why baba did so many things I once disliked, and I feel for him.

When did it become not-ok to cry and kick the floor when things didn’t go my way!!

Party Pooper

Today I was out with a friend having fun, pure absolute fun after such a disturbingly annoying day with the x checking out schools. I got my end-of-the-week treat; I was sitting in a chair listening to all my favorite oldies brilliantly performed. Some of the songs brought back memories to which I am nostalgic, I closed my eyes and smiled as I put those memories back to where they belong. My whole body was moving with the same rhythm as the music, I sang along at the top of my voice and no one could hear (luckily), I clapped and cheered so loud until my hands hurt and my voice faded! I was genuinely happy.

My friend and I left so that we can go home before we get in trouble, which is sad since we’re both above 25, VERY SAD. Nonetheless, we both found solace in knowing that we had a real good time and that for the hour we spent, neither of us had time to think of our crappy dramas and got to live a life we never really had anywhere beyond our dreams, fair enough, or so we contently compromised.

Until that call!

“Enty fein le7ad delwa2ty? Enty 3arfa el sa3a kam? Da kalam?” and BAAAMM hung up!

Seriously, this is unfair!! I will turn 28 in June, and it wasn’t even 10 yet!!! 10 people!

And my mood was dramatically changed, in those few seconds it took to end that call, how sad is that, how depressing!

I felt like crying. My good mood was snatched from me so abruptly, the sudden switch of moods had a shocking effect that made me wanna curl and cry.

How cruel, how insensitive!

I really needed that evening out; it’s been a while since I went out on a music night and I reeeaaallllly needed the feeling I get after those. The music just makes me forget all about my problems and my issues and I heal for as long as I’m listening, and I know I can willingly go back to my daily fights and struggles without complaining knowing that I lived those few moments. Why is it too much to ask? Is that so horrible?!

I know it’s useless to try and explain that to my caller, or the person who had him make the call. I know it will be a waste of my breath because even if I managed to get my point through, they will still find ways to make me seem irresponsible and selfish and whatever other labels they will feel like using. So as always, the silent treatment is the way to go; long live passive aggression!

Now that I’ve ranted, I will go to bed trying to remember the thoughts and feelings I had as the music was playing and just dwell in them hoping they’ll visit me in my dreams more vividly.

Goodnight.

Back to Phase IV: Depression

Who knew depression can pile up and sneak on me all of a sudden at the very time I would normally think I even passed Phase V: Acceptance!

I was fine, I was alright, and I was accepting, even embracing my life and finding my little joys. A friend of mine was telling me a while back that he was impressed at my ability to shake off the negativity by getting involved in whatever distractions that come my way instead of wallowing and sulking in my bad mood.

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!!!

Thanks to my mother for wanting me to reconsider “saving my marriage”; I can’t believe her! I can’t believe she’s still forcing me to have that discussion; I’ve been speaking my heart out all through the past time, wasn’t she listening!!!! I mean hello, the whole blogsphere knows how I feel about that marriage and they don’t even know me; what’s wrong with my own mother and why the hell can’t she just understand, accept and support me? Why is it so freakin’ much to ask?

And oh no, not just that, she’s saying that my dad has hope I would change my mind under his thick layers of disgust at my x. Seriously?! Although there is a considerable degree of untruth to everything she says, especially assumptions she makes about my father; she has successfully managed to alienate me from talking to him!

She is scaring the crap out of me. The fact that someone so close keeps reminding me of how hard raising those two boys will be without a marriage, and the fact that she keeps stressing that I won’t be able to do it and that they will grow up to resent and blame me for it, just cripples me and sends me back to my worst place.

I’m back to my worst days during the end of my pregnancy. Of course I don’t cry as much, but I’m choking on my words every time I speak, and I feel like I really can’t breathe, and I am so close to having a panic attack right at work that I keep rushing to the washroom because I don’t want people to see it happening!

Thanks to all the stress and the fear to which she’s exposing me, death does not sound half as scary as raising my kids; how freaky is that?! If I die my kids will idealize me and they will definitely love whatever memory I leave behind; sounds much better than “hating me for ruining the home they could have had” ME!

You know what ma; if I am such a lousy person and an extraordinarily horrible mother, take over, please. I will completely shut up about all the mess you’ve made; I will not share any of my therapist’s opinions of you or your role in how I picked the notorious x.

Who am I kidding? I can’t just sit back and let go of my boys for either you or him to raise them so that you’d get off my case. And neither can I go back to him; sadly my personality is too strong for his taste, not to mention that I cannot hide my contempt for him.

When you push so hard, you make me wish I were as submissive as you are, but it’s not in me to live that way, and I am sorry but I am not that crushed or broken to let people decide for me how I should live my life for anybody’s sake, even my kids, ok!

Please stop scaring me, I can’t take any of it anymore and I feel so freakin’ alone and I am sick of looking for support because I know that at the end of the day, I am completely alone in this and you’re taking away from me every ounce of strength I need to do it on my own and alienating me from everyone! I can take it from him, but coming from you, it just stinks!

In my darkest hour…

I don’t believe in regret; to me, it simply does not fix things, it just makes one feel worse about things that are most likely too late to change. However, there are always times when I wonder “what if..??”; I always find it intriguing to think, like it’s my own mental exercise.

Since all my drama began, I would have those thoughts from time to time:

What if I never befriended him?

What if I never believed his lies when I first called it off?

What if I walked out when it got complicated?

What if I called off the marriage like I wanted to when it kept getting complicated?

What if I never agreed to move in with his family after his father died?

What if I never forgave him when he first screwed around?

What if I had decided to stay?

I have a could-have-been answer to each of those, but I really have peace with what really happened versus what could have happened.

But in my darkest hour, one very persisting thought haunts me… what if I never had kids with him?

Every time I find myself asking that question, I realize I’m hitting rock bottom. Don’t get me wrong I love my children, they’re probably the only real thing in my life.

The thought starts creeping in by me thinking “had I not had children with him, I would have walked away for good and never had to look back or be forced to sit and have all those futile arguments”. After all, most of the time I seem to manage not to cross ways with those I don’t like.

Then, I feel horrible having those thoughts in my head, and as I start blaming myself, I hear the other voice justifying “but they deserve better than such messed up parents; and let’s face it, aside from their crazy father, you know you are far away from the perfect mom they deserve. You wouldn’t be wondering what if they were never there if you were a decent mother; but you too want the easy way out, perhaps you’re not much better than him”

What I hate the most is that the silly voices in my head are right; I am a lousy mother, the only thing that makes me a good parent is being compared to him.

Now, I should shake off the silly thoughts, and tell myself it will be over; that there are so many reasons behind it all, and that most of which must be good because my kids are two amazing, cute and innocent children who must not pay for the stupid choices I made. I should tell myself to get it together and stop wallowing in those dark thoughts and go try harder at being a better parent.

Well, if you can’t right now, then it’s ok, send Beem to the club with your parents, put Mocha to bed, and go eat away your bad mood with your friend.

Must get ice cream on my way home.

On guilt and forgiveness…

When I was little, I didn’t realize I had a good childhood because I had (and still have) so many issues with my parents. I still find it confusing whenever I think about it; no wonder I confuse myself all the time!

-------

My father was hard on me; he was always too strict because he thought it would make me a better person. He had ethics and principles that he practiced most of the time, except when anger got the best of him. The man who taught me that words once said, cannot be taken back, was the very same person who'd shoot words at me and make me spend so many sleepless nights crying before we'd start giving each other the silent treatment!

It could have been about feeling guilty, or simply because we were not ready to communicate, but we could go on not speaking to one another for as long as it took! One look at his face could tell how much more angry words he would be holding back and one look at mine could say how I thought I'd never forgive him. Truth is, I guess it mostly hurt because I knew I couldn't love him any less.

My father taught me a lot without knowing. He taught me to hold back my anger when I know I can't handle the consequences of letting it out. He taught me that we can get badly hurt by those we love, but it hurts even more when we know we can't do but forgive them because we can't imagine our lives without them. But most importantly, he taught me that forgiveness does not come with begging for it; I never begged for his, and he never begged for mine, but somehow we seem to be doing just great!

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My mother on the other hand never had my father's strong character or presence. She tried to use his authority for her benefit, but it never served her the way she hoped for; in fact, it made her look less powerful! My only way of getting over my mother's hurtful words is by talking back to her face and confronting her with whatever nonsense she spoke; my logic had always beaten hers. I have always tried to use silent treatment out of my guilt for talking back at her, but she just never let me; she always said I had a cruel heart because of that!

My mother taught me that sometimes fighting back, as frustrating as it can be, helps you get over such fights. Sometimes it just helps to know you gave as much as you took, or not; after all, my mom and I are never on good terms for a long time.

------

My x was a lot like my mother; he’d shoot heartless words like there was no tomorrow, while I was more like my father, I’d keep piling up and strictly watch out for whatever words coming out of my mouth. Moreover, I barely ever snapped like my father; not just because I didn’t want to return the hurt, but also because I never wanted to beg for his forgiveness like he begged for mine.

He always said I was too proud and unforgiving. He just never got it; he was the one person with whom I was not that proud and he never had to beg for my forgiveness! Ironically, he always begged for it and it made him feel less proud, so he thought I was too proud to forgive him!

------

I always thought I was unforgiving. It took me quite some time to realize that I actually have it in me to forgive. Sometimes all it took was knowing that no malice was intended, sometimes it was because I could return the harm and get even, and sometimes it just happened because I was given enough time and space.

-------

I’m sorry, I don’t have it in me yet. I am not angry like I once was, and neither am I hurt; I just remember too many things that I know you’re not sorry for, or at least not the way you should be, and that means you’re still the kind of person I can’t forgive.

I have moved on, and even evolved a bit... I don’t hate you, and I obviously can stand you, but I lost that magic that made you seem flawless to me and I honestly do not want it back.

Why can’t we just write “The End” here?

Why do you keep pushing? You’re confusing me, you’re trying to make me feel guilty, but what you do not get is that all your tactics will never make me want back; being away from you is the one certainty on which I am rebuilding my life, and it’s not about forgiveness, so please stop begging for it.

It hurt…

I am not sure where this came from, but as I was driving home with both of my kids in the backseat when this conversation took place….


Beem: mommy…
Me: na3am ya beem
Beem: (pointing at a Toyota) heya el 3arabeya de eeh?
Me: esmaha ToYoTa ya beem
Beem: heya beta3et meen?
Me: beta3et uncle elly saye2ha…
Beem: ana 3ayez arkabha
Me: mmm, bas e7na mane3rafsh uncle da a beem (thinking to myself, he’s almost got into all the car brands we bump into except Toyota, how perceptive!)
Beem: ana 3ayez arkabha ma3 pappy
Me: (WHAT!!!) bet2ool eh ya beem?
Beem: 3ayez arkab Toyota ma3 pappa! Pappa Ahmed, howa bey7ebeny wana ba7ebo we harkab ma3ah…
Me: (WHAT WHAT WHAT!!!! Think of something, QUICKLY!) bas bas ya beem pappa masmoosh ahmad!
Beem: la2 pappa esmo ahmed, ana 3ayez pappy ahmad…
Me: ya 7abeeby walahy masmoosh ahmad! Pappa esmo (my x’s name, obviously not ahmad), mesh enta esmak (his full name)… yeb2a pappy esmo (my x’s name)…
Beem: howa 3ando 3arabeya eh
Me: mesh 3arfa ya beem… tab enta mesh beterkab ma3aya fe 3arabeety, we beterkab ma3 geddo fe 3arabeeto we ma3 agga fe 3arabeetha we goody fe 3arabeetha, enta zehe2t wala eh!!
Beem: ana harkab ma3 Geddo 3arabeya Toyota
Me: (relieved he stopped referring to his dad) ok, hanshoof el mawdoo3 da ma3 geddo
Beem: (coming closer to me while driving, within my reach to hug my right arm) ana ba7ebek awy ya mommy…
Me: ana ba7ebak aktar….


OUCH!!! Who the hell is “pappy ahmad”??! I couldn’t see the road clearly and I started feeling like I was about to bump into the sidewalk with the dizziness i felt!



Later right before having lunch at home…


Me: yalla ya beem ta3ala 3ashan takol ma3aya
Beem: ana ha2akel nafsy
Me: tab ma 2a2akelak ana 3ashan matwasakhsh nafsak
Beem: bas ana kebeer
Me: tayeb ok, hat2akel nafsak bas el kebeer mesh yewa2a3 3ala nafsoh
Beem: ana hakbar tany lessa?
Me: (smiling) ah taba3an, hatekbar lessa in sha2 Allah
Beem: we hageeb 3arabeya Toyota kebeeeeraaaa
Me: (smiling even more) in sha2 Allah
Beem: we hakhaly geddo yerkab ma3aya feeha
Me: (on the verge of tears, and my voice choking) enta gameel awy ya beem, yala ba2a ta3ala kol
Beem: malek ya mommy?
Me: (running in his direction, and making a funny tone) ana hagy aklak 3ashan mesh takol akly
Beem: la2 ana hakol el akl kolo…


And we ate!


How does this kid come up with all those thoughts and ideas and puts them in words? And what’s with the Toyota obsession??!!

More importantly, what do I tell him when he starts focusing more on the fact that he’s missing a father? It hurt like hell when he said “ana 3ayez pappy ahmad” and “howa bey7ebeny”! he’s missing a love he never even received from my idiot of an x. moments like these make me resent my x much much more than I already do. I can only quote my own dad “A7MAQ”!!

"this only happens to other people"

One of my two best friends has just given birth to the most beautiful baby I have laid eyes on (msA), and I couldn’t possibly be happier that they’re both well and healthy, alhamdulilah. Unfortunately however, I am trapped between happiness and fear, so I thought the only way I would enjoy that happiness is to babble a bit about my fear despite how sick I am of all the whining on my blog.

Those who know me know I am more of an optimist, those who know me well, know about the cynical pessimist who lurks shamefully in the shadows.

The pessimist is fed by worries and fears, by worst case scenarios that jump before my eyes when I hear or see something to my disliking. Luckily, the optimist takes good care of those horrible visions by confirming in a tone as soothing as possible “this only happens to other people”. Even when part of the problem had already started taking its toll on me, I hear my optimist self whispering “it will be ok”, “this too shall pass”, and sometimes when it’s a bit too tough, I get more in touch with my half-abandoned faith and hear phrases like “en ma3 al 3usr yusr” and “everything happens for a reason”

Needless to say, I have daily visions of dark nature that I choose to block for my own well being, most of which have to do with losing a loved one. My self-comforting strategy always worked.The one single time it did not work was when my x’s father died and I started having visions of losing my own father. Back then I was in my 6th month of first pregnancy and “hormonal” was the least to describe me. I used to spend nights crying so hard and praying it would never happen.

The wiser post-pregnancy and labor version of me knows that one day that horrible day will come; my optimist self helps me face that fact using the above strategy in addition to loads of denial.

Lately, a couple of incidents happened (including a huge increase in my father’s sugar level), which affected my defense mechanism. And because I am emotionally crippled (although it barely ever shows on my blog), I hid my worrying from my family and kept telling everyone who’s concerned about my father’s health that it was not alarming given how abusive my father’s eating habits were becoming lately. I kept saying it was ok and that it was nothing a good, well-balanced diet would not take care of.

Only I’m scared to death. Scared to the extent that I wish I could die right now before any of my fears would come true. I asked my dad how it went in my fakest casual tone and I hated his answer. I hate how vague his answer is. I hate that he’s so depressed over being sick that it could negatively affect his health even more. I hate how I can’t sit next to him on the couch and give him a chocolate bite because I am too freakin’ worried. I hate how he has become so silent because I know he’s worried too, even if it was not really that big a thing to worry about; I know my dad worries, I got it from him. I want to yell at him and tell him to cheer up already, that his sugar levels are decreasing and that he will be ok, he must be ok… because those things only happen to other people, to other fathers, not him.

Baba, please cheer up ba2a, balash nakad, 3ashan khater el etneen el mossagal khatar elly beykhalook ted7ak le7ad ma weshak ye7mar we teshra2!

Regardless what my mood is, my kids know how to put a smile on my face :)

Beem fell and banged his head so hard the last day in Ramadan. It was horrible, we were all in tears and we worried it would be something as serious as my infamous head injuries (at the ages of 1 and 13!!) As he was crying he heard me asking my sis to bring some ice, in the midst of his tears he said “la2 mesh 3ayez talg, el wawa ra7et khalaas”




A couple of hours later, he was jumping up and down and he kinda bumped his head, only really minor bumps that do not compare to that big bang, I ended up threatening him “law etkhabat tany, ana ely ha2oom adrabak” I know it’s eftera menny, but it was too much stress!

The same night he came and sat next to me and patted my arm and kissed it saying “mammy, enty konty 3ayaty leeh”
Me: 3ashan bemm 7abeeby et3awar
Beem: 3ashan ana kont ba3ayat
Me: ah
Beem: khalas ana mesh ha3ayat, ana kowayes ahoh
Me (hugging him so hard): ana ba7ebak awy ya bembemaya
Beem: ana ba7ebik ya mammy *kiss*

El walad da ezzay 7enayen keda!


Beem (rushing to me crying): mammy mocha kharbeshny
Me (I could hear mocha crying so loudly): wenta 3amalt feeh eh
Beem (so innocently): 3adeetoh


We were visiting a friend of my father’s since college, she’s practically one of my favorite aunties ever. She had her daughter and her two grandchildren, Mohamed (4 yrs) and Sarah (2 yrs) who are simply adorable; however, Sarah makes me wish I had a baby girl; she is just A.D.O.R.A.B.L.E.



Apparently, my Beem seemed to get along with Sarah a lot more than her brother, and he was very friendly and nice and brotherly to her it made me go awww. At some point while they were all playing, Mohamed decided it was time to show off his boy-ish side and started hitting Sarah…

Sarah: maaaammmmyyy
My friend: Mohamed, matedrabsh Sarah, 3eeb
Beem (standing between Sarah and her bro): ta3aly ya Sarah waraya, matkhafeesh, (talking to Mohamed in a serious tone while pointing his index finger) matedrabsh Sarah keda tany, keda nooo, enta teb2a we7esh
Mohamed (rushing to his mom and on the verge of tears): mama bey2ool eny we7esh!
Me: awwww, la ya Mohamed, howa bas khayef Sarah tet3awar, mesh tez3al mennoh, howa bardu bey7ebbak, Beem, ta3ala 2ool le Mohamed mesh yez3al
Beem (walking slowly, and checking if Mohamed was crying for real, then deciding to pat him on the arm while smiling): matez3lsh ya Mohamed



Mocha’s vocabulary:
Mammma: ana
Nanna: my mom
Babbba: my dad
Dadda: the maid
Boo: when he wants to drink
MMUMMM: obviously when he wants food, NOW… and also when he sees food!
Denndennn: when referring to horses and donkeys, he actually means deregen deregen and sometimes he’d come and pretend to ride my tummy while I’m asleep!
2ottaa: cat, and also any other animal really
Baabyy: babies, infants, and children
Bom: balloons and balls
Beeb beeb: cars
Hawhaw: when I tell him it’s not a cat, it’s a dog!
Batta: referring to Donald Duck!
Wawa: when he’s in pain or when he wants to get some extra attention!




H’s family owns a talking parrot that says too many sentences more eloquently that both of my kids and that actually sounds like H’s younger brother!! We were visiting last week and my kids were stunned to see a talking bird! Beem had fun feeding kookoo bananas and Mocha wanted to touch it so bad but they were scaring Kookoo and we were afraid it would bite them out of panicking.

H: 2ool salamo 3aleiko ya kookoo
Kookoo: (nothing)
Beem: kookoo
Mocha: 2otta???
Me (laughing): la ya mocha, da mesh 2otta, da kookoo
Kookoo: kookooo
Mocha: 2otta
Kookoo: kookoo
Mocha: tattaa
Kookoo: kookoo
Mocha: TATTA
Me: H, mocha mesh beye3raf ye2ool el kaf fa mesameeh tatta
H: we aldagh fel waw Kaman!
Me: bayen!

Later when it was time to leave and we were saying our goodbye’s, out of the blue, Kookoo decided to say "salamo 3aleiko"!

The funny part is that yesterday H called saying that kookoo is saying tatta the same way mocha was!!


Yesterday in Beem’s nursery party, his teacher totally made him sing all the songs and say the alphabet with a word for each letter; otherwise there would have been no cake!! The look on his face as he complied was more of a death threat; I think she had it coming, she should have stopped after bon anniverssaire! During the singing however, he noticed that he did not have an empty plate in front of him, so he interrupted as he got up and grabbed one.

Later when we were singing right before we blow the candles, he kept blowing it during the singing and he thought it was funny that his teacher kept lighting it, or he simply enjoyed annoying her!


Later at the home party, I got him those candles that keep burning again even after you blow them, he had some fun time trying to blow them while we were singing him “happy birthday”. I think the cake had some saliva according to my cousin due to my “torture”!


As my cousin was leaving yesterday, we were all telling Beem to say bye and thank him for the gift (a toy gun with sniper light, thank you very much!), only Beem was too busy playing with H and her sister, so he kinda blew him off, that was when my cousin said “khalas, ana hakhod el mosadas beta3y”
Beem: khodo
A: hatoh, howa fein
Beem (rushing to get it): 7ader
A (stunned): …
Beem: ya daddooo, howa fein
Baba (laughing so hard): ahoh, adeeh le A?
Beem: la2 hatoh (and he gave it to my cousin without saying a word, then ran to his seat hiding the balls he was playing with) bas mesh hatakhod el kewar, ana khabethom!
A: tayeb! Ana haddy el mosadas le Mocha

I was laughing too hard to follow what happened next!


I had more in mind, but I can’t seem to remember any right now! More will follow when I do :)

On detachment…

I’ve been thinking about the concept for a while and here is what I could come up with regarding myself; I am incapable of detachment!! I push myself too hard until I am completely able to detach, and no matter how detached I might I think I am, I never really stop caring!

I’ve been thinking about it since the night before yesterday’s court session as my uncle told me right in front of my dad that I was making a big deal out of it worrying!! “mate3esheesh el tagroba” he said! “You know very well that all this will end, either through divorce or khol3, mate7ra2eesh a3sabek ba2a” he explained. I went to bed trying to convince myself with his words; yes, I know it will end, but I am 3aysha el tagroba whether I like it or not!

You see, it’s not really up to me to pretend like I am ok with all of it, with how screwed up the system is, with the fact that a lot of other people who are less privileged are going through every day, people who do not have an back exit door like I do, or simply can’t afford one!! I am not an activist, but this “experience” has given me a perspective on many things I would have never even considered before! It got me out of the bubble where I was once protected from all the nastiness in the world, and forced me into seeing things I still have problems adjusting with, so excuse me for “living it” to the fullest!!

My uncle and I sat at the ahwa right outside Court since it was extremely hot in there and of course no a/c except in his honor’s room, while my lawyer joined as he kept checking if it was our turn to get in yet. They did all they could to make me understand that all this is nothing but an attempt to teach my x a lesson yet preserving my rights, which will make him rather butter since let’s face it, he’s a material jerk. I kept nodding in an attempt to really detach myself from all the anxiety and the digestion problems and headaches I’ve been having over this!

Their words stopped making sense the moment I saw him walking by! I’ve seen him a couple of times at court, but I never felt the way I did yesterday! I felt pain! The kind of pain you feel when someone steps on a sore toe, only that toe was my heart, or something! He walked by, he saw me and I saw him, only we pretended it never happened as he walked into the Court House! A while later I walked in with my uncle and my lawyer as he was walking out to check if his witnesses had arrived or not. I didn’t see him though; but my lawyer said I flinched and got closer to the wall the moment he passed right next to me, which made him stop and look at me in angry surprise! I didn’t even notice!!!

He brought two witnesses, friends of his whom we always went out with and invited home, back when we actually had a home! One of them, the one I always liked the most of his friends, walked right to me to say hi, I smiled back and greeted him politely. Nonetheless, I think I alienated him when he started saying words like elly benkom akbar men keda, and eh elly 7assal 3ashan kol da!! his other friend was feeling two awkward to talk to me, he simply gave me an embarrassed smile inside the judge’s room as he was saying I (I!) sent my x text message saying kalam mesh malabod!! Mind you, I learned my lesson, no talking in the presence of the judge unless permitted, and for all I know my x could have showed him something I never sent!!!

He asked for a permission to talk to the judge, and was granted one (ESHME3NA!!). He said more and more distortions of the truth, it’s disturbing how the order of events could totally change the truth and make it sound so different. I started boiling inside as he continued telling more twisted facts, but I could patiently wait until it was over and I asked the Judge to let me clarify a thing or two, or at least comment. He gave me one of his condescending looks as he said I should have gone before my x because I am the moda3eya! La ya sheikh, so I had the freakin’ right to talk, why the hell did you not let me know, wala shakly me2adeyaha ma7akem leel nahar!!!

Anyway, I told him my x LIED, I told him he made things sound different and briefly rearranged the things he had said! He interrupted me implying that my x and I were spoilt brats who didn’t know how to mind our own business and were guilty of lat we 3agn and went on and on about this being Egypt’s problem, yeah right!

I waited impatiently as he finished interrupting me and in a polite attempt told him he was far off, and that up until my marriage fell apart thanks to my x, I never told anyone about my life or my problems. My big proof was how my witnesses only had so little to share about or life before problems, while his friends didn’t! my lawyer said I kicked a** and that at some point before I started talking he was afraid I’d screw things, but was relieved when he saw me able to control my temper and tame the words that got out of my mouth! He said my words had an ok effect on the judge, which is great considering he’s who he is!

I did not feel the glory though! I was frustrated and maktooma as my uncle referred to me! How could I not!! I really don’t know how to detach myself from all that!!! I saw him, a person I once trusted who is now twisting facts to hurt me that way, and insisting to make me sound like something I am definitely not!! It hurts! People with whom I broke bread came to politely imply that I am out of my mind to let a marriage fall apart! Am I really? Did they even know half of the truth to pass judgment on me that way!! A judge who insists that I have no good grounds for a divorce is the one controlling my life right now! Someone whom I can only feel sorry for; for being too jaded and bitter to be sensitive about the words that shoot out of his mouth!

There will be a ruling at the end of this month, and the sad part is that I can’t help worrying even though I already know the verdict!!! I know all there is to come, and yet I am not able to jump ahead and skip the unpleasant things.

Oh oh!! He had stopped calling since my birthday, but for some reason, he attempted to call 11 times!! He texted me saying, “… let’s end this amicably; nothing will happen except what I want to happen…” I read it to my dad and uncle hoping they would contact him or something, but they nodded with disgust and said he was still the jerk that could not be trusted! Tab ana 3abita for wanting to believe him, I know I am!! Something in me wanted to call him and tell him I want to work things out and get a civil divorce, I wanted to believe that he’s capable of that!!

Ana te3ebt ba2a, we zehe2t!! we mesh 3arfa ezzay mesh ha3eesh el tagroba elly aslant ana madfoona feeha!!! I really don’t wanna be upset over it, any of it!! It’s not like I am addicted to nakad or anything!! Actually a friend of mine called to check on me, and was surprised I was laughing! Yes, I am smiling and laughing all the time, but my mind hurts!! It doesn’t seem to understand why any of this is happening!! UUUUFFFFFFFF

A reoccurring thought!

Due to current events, as well as the not so great previous ones, I have been contemplating and trying to figure out a few things about myself using the information newly revealed by my therapist.

Here is what I could come up with…

I know I am hard maintenance and I know I am impossible to make up when angry. I have come to realize it's partially because I usually get too hurt beyond my ability to deal or express my feelings which is due to pushing myself too hard or allowing others to do the honors.

In the past few months, after my yelling contest with mid sis, which caused some piling up until the time that followed around a week before my birthday, in addition to my incident with baby sis, as well as the couple of times I stood before that jerk of a judge and , one thought kept surfacing. A thought that had lingered quite often during my last few months with my x. I could be that horrible I could be that impossible to endure or even tolerate!

I know all my flaws, or at least most of them. I’m proud to say I have worked on quite a few; I learned how to be tolerant and accepting of others and I toned down the attitude, plus a few lessons here and there. However, the truth remains; I am such a highly charged emotional baggage that does need some serious maintenance. I don’t cry a lot like I used to, I don’t even discuss things anymore; I just build thick walls of silence and passive aggression that could erupt any second into active aggression and incoherent rampaging of words.


It’s very unlikely for me now to sit down and say things like, “this annoys me and that hurts me.” When asked, I say it actually takes me quite a long time to be bothered despite how fiery my temper might seem to be. I assure friendly strangers with whom I have casual chats that there is nothing they can say or do that would piss me off; probably because I have no expectations from them; hence, no room for being disappointed if they fail me!

It hit me that this could go the other way around as well! With strangers, we are more accepting of things we wouldn’t normally accept from the ones in our close emotional circle; it’s a well known and acknowledged fact, I remember reading posts written by fellow bloggers who said it more eloquently.

That leaves me to a conclusion; it could be a harsh one, but it does make sense in my head somehow. I am a better friend that I can be a daughter, a sister, a wife, or even a mother for that matter. As a friend, I can still be comfortable, yet I keep my boundaries as much as I preserve myself from getting hurt by not expecting more than people can offer.

I am not a high maintenance friend; I understand about the need for space and I am not curious at all; when D or H subtly imply something and I sense they don’t really wanna talk about it, I let it slide and help them around it without having to get into it, whatever it is. When they call in tears needing support or asking for advice, I instantly use my vivid imagination to put myself in their shoes as well as the shoes of the person bothering them and help them find ways to communicate, which work most of the times to my surprise!!

H constantly tells me I am her best friend and that the times she calls me and I am unavailable, she knows for a fact that I will call back regardless of my non-ending drama. D tells me nothing about how good it is being my friend, but the way she’s been there for me all through the past 14 years means a lot to me and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I would do anything for those two ; they wouldn’t even need to ask, and I would go the extra mile to make something work, and I know for a fact they would do the same for me! Even if they don’t, I really don’t expect them to, because I actually feel their love for me, the uncondional love that I only experienced once and lost when my late nana died, Allah yer7amha.

As for other friends, they are simply great! They might not be as close because we have not yet gone through the same things that brought me that close to D & H, and our relationships may simply not last long enough until we do. Nonetheless, when it comes to friends, I do what I can to be a good friend and I strictly refrain from favors because I don’t want to raise the expectations bar. Yet when any of my friends do something extraordinary, it touches me deep inside and it is carved in my heart until after I return the favor, and I never stop thinking of ways in which I can return the favor!

But I must admit, I have miserably failed when it came to my family(ies). I always knew I was never a good enough daughter, but I thought for a while I was a good wife and a very good sister; I could be wrong after all, and it’s ok for I understand one cannot be great in all aspects.

This brings me back to my above mentioned reoccurring thought… I suck at all kinds of relationships other than friendship. I either disappointor get disappointed. I don't want to do it anymore; it’s too much work and there are no guarantees, not to mention how traumatizing it can be when things fall apart. I’ve been there and I still am and I am sore and unable to deal.

A so-called break

Two days ago, my baby sister called from Alex where she had gone with my dad to relax for a couple of days asking me if it was possible to take three days off from work and chaperone her to Sharm El Sheikh since baba would not let her travel alone. It was right after I had published my last post and I still don’t know if she had read it or not!

My first instinct to her request was, “ok, let me figure a couple of things out and talk to mom” since she was the one supposedly accompanying her. According to my sister, ma had bailed on her because I am too stressed out and she can’t just travel for a couple of days and leave me!! So now I am that much of a burden!!

Anyway, I had a doctor’s appointment the next day for my last wisdom tooth to be pulled out, I had already started taking antibiotics to prepare; therefore, I did not want to postpone. Moreover, I had not yet called my boss to ask him if it was ok to take three days off. I packed for two anyways; mocha and I and decided that I should be ready anyway.

While packing I subconsciously started making plans for my stay in the hotel room and I couldn’t shake the thought of getting a massage one way or another if mocha sleeps or something! However, the moment I finished packing I sat on my bed and I kept murmuring, “mesh 3ayza asafer, mesh 3ayza asafer!” I did not want to leave my beem and I most certainly couldn’t take both my kids with my sister leaving me all alone all day to her conference, let alone having to travel with her colleagues with two kids is just too weird!

The next day, I called my boss on my way to the dentist and he said that he would prefer it if I don’t leave and that he did not like how sudden my request was, somehow that was a relief. So I sent my sister text telling her to talk to mama and called ma telling her it was really ok for me that she goes with my sis. Later, while waiting at the clinic my other sister called asking me if I could drive both of my sisters to the place where they gather with other NGO members to leave, I told her I wouldn’t make it on time and that they should take a taxi or something.

I couldn’t help but feel like my virtual plans were ruined, but well, I also knew I had cold feet about leaving one of my kids at home! I kept telling myself that it was all for the best, and perhaps both of my sisters taking some time off would do everyone some good.

I started planning for the weekend getaway and called my father to confirm that I can proceed with making reservations if there was available rooms in el Ein el Sokhna. When I called him he was in a grumpy mood, he blamed me for making a promise to my sister to chaperone her and getting her hopes up that way, and he told me that it was either mama or I who should go with her and that one of us should keep her word!

So, I called my boss again and promised him I will be checking my mail regularly and finally got him to agree, then called my sister and told her to put some last-minute stuff in my already packed bag and meet me downtown to take the bus. Then I finally got into the dentist’s office who overheard most of the conversations anyway, and got my wisdom tooth pulled. It was painful and it still hurts like hell, it’s worth mentioning I am under both antibiotics and Panadol extra and I still feel like a couple of anesthetic shots!!

It was extremely HOT, and it took what seemed like forever to meet and then get into the small bus and then finally move on our way to Sharm and it took a bit more until the A/C had finally kicked in!! Meanwhile, my shades failed to hide the signs of utter disgust on my face as my teeth were clenched biting on that piece of bloody cotton hoping that the pain wouldn’t drive me crazy. Nonetheless, I kept thinking, perhaps it’s the break I wanted; perhaps I would finally get to relax, even if I didn’t get to sit by the beach or get a massage, I usually enjoy slacking around in a nice and cozy hotel room. I always look for something to keep me positive and I always tell convince myself that there is a good thing about going for something as well as there’s a good thing on not doing the same thing!!

My sister kept treating me as if I were an emotional wreckage for some reason! I did not want to ask her if she had read my post; instead, I just told her that I was fine with travelling with her and that she had to stop apologizing and start relaxing and enjoying the experience. I meant it, I promise.

It was a long ride, my no longer existing tooth was killing me and I kept gulping panadol extras as if it were Chiclets. It’s worth mentioning though that mocha was quite an angel all through; he slept and when he was up he really really behaved, I’m so proud of my baby.

On our way, my sister shared the delightful news; she had run out of contact lenses; moreover, while talking to my dad on the phone as he was telling her that her trip is to be cancelled if neither mama or me went with her, she threw her glasses and got them broken, which left her technically blind. This meant we had to look for a place that sells prescription contacts once we arrive at Sharm, which was not expected to be any earlier that 8:30 pm, and just to make things more interesting, it turned out we were not booked in Naema Bay and that the hotel (resort actually) was 7 kilos away! Great!

When we finally arrived, one of us had to stay and check in while the other had to ask around for advice on where to find an optician or a pharmacy that sells contacts. Since my sister had blurry vision in addition to her original bad sense of direction, I suggested that she would handle the checking-in while I go to Naema Bay.

It’s crazy how people in Sharm know to take advantage of 7 kilos distance from where I was to Naema Bay; one word: 7arameya!! Anyways, beggars are not chooser, but it sure made me miss my car. So, once I got there, I got to see the new ugly face of Sharm el Sheikh; it was by no means the place I liked six years ago! People were extremely unhelpful and unfriendly; and strapping mocha to me in his carrier was an additional factor for people to flee instead of offering help like it normally happened in good old Cairo!! Apparently, having a baby strapped to me eliminated the sexy factor, let alone being in jeans and a shirt while everyone was in their tank tops and shorts!

After some serious effort from my side to overlook some annoying factors as I walked in Naema Bay, I finally got the contacts and bought some drinks and dinner and headed home since my sis called saying there were no dinner arrangements at the hotel. She was having a bit of an attitude over the phone and I gave her some back because honestly, I was too tired to start taking any shit from anyone at that point.

I got back to find that she was still at the lobby with the luggage because our residence was too far away and she worried I wouldn’t find the way easily given how huge the resort is. So one tuf-tuf and one gold cart later, we finally got into one nice cozy room, with the touch of nice old Egyptian style! I was excited and I started thinking things were gonna get better, little did I know.

I got into the bathroom to freshen up to find a black evil looking spider; the fact that it was rather small did not change the bigger fact that I am a wuss when it comes to insects, spiders and similar creatures in general. However, a quick evaluation of the situation helped me overcome my fear temporarily and I took off my slipper and squished it while screaming a lot louder than it would have had been given the chance! I got out of the bathroom all grossed and my mood was ruined, only it didn’t really show with all the fatigue.

Mocha stopped being an angel since he was bored, tired, hungry and simply irritated like any infant his age would. And to make things worse, he dropped a full pepsi can on his toe and it turned all blue and ugly and the poor thing kept crying! I could barely eat my meal despite how hungry I was and I asked my sis after noticing that she had finished eating to take him so that I can finish up. She kept nodding and mumbling things.

It’s worth mentioning that she had already provoked the crap out of me as I was telling her that next time we want food we should go out and eat instead of bring food into the room. She said she had dinner arrangements with the conference people, so I told her she should join me afterwards so that she can help me with mocha as I had dinner before heading back to the hotel. She simply said with her usual condescending tone, “ana 3andy fekra a7san, we split the money, we kol wa7ed feena ma3 nafso.” At that point I just waved with my hand asking her to stop talking and silently decided that it was a stupid idea to drag my son and go to a place where I simply wouldn’t be able to move freely for his convenience.

Mocha was still grumpy and irritated and I asked her again to take him so that she can comfort him until I finish up and wash my hands. Instead, she deliberately ignored me and started cleaning up after herself! I told her I would clean up for the two us and that it was more important that she attended to him since he needed comforting. Again, she insisted on ignoring me with her usual dismissive way that usually gets on my nerves.

That was it for me; I’ve been piling shit loads of crap from everyone in my family for a while, my tooth was killing me, I was having muscular strain because of that stupid carrier, my toes were hurt because of not-for-walking-long-distances slippers, I was still hungry since I didn’t really get to eat having to handle mocha, and I was still traumatized by the spider incident… I did not need attitude and most certainly not from someone who does not appreciate my help five hours after she wouldn’t stop apologizing for causing me that much trouble!!

I held my cell and I called mama asking her to come the next day so that I could go back. She kept making fun of my spider encounter and said how I once made them switch hotels because I found a roach. When she finally sensed how angry my tone was she figured I had a fight with my sis and handled the phone to baba who kept yelling at the two of us and said that if we couldn’t suck it up and behave like grownups we should return to Cairo at that instance.

Meanwhile, my dear sister blurted all sorts of insensitive shit that I think ruined our relationship for a while now. It’s sad how I thought of a million things to hurt her by saying, but I only said things like “law ma7taramteesh nafsek hagy adrabek” I almost had the urge to go punch her or something, but I held back because something in me screamed that I couldn’t do this to my sister! But I am mad at her despite how she kept crying and apologizing for all the mean things she said. Thing is, I was deeply hurt by what she said, and I know it will take me quite a while to be able to pretend it never happened.

Having her tell me I was a whiner who did not know how to do anything but complain, how I am always insisting on being right and doing things my way and never compromising brought painful memories I have been trying to block and almost succeeded until yesterday. But it helped me decide something; I am moving out, I may not be able to afford it, so I will ask for financial help from my dad which I was not willing to do before. However, I think it’s better that I keep a healthy distance between my sisters and I.

We tried to talk afterwards; in fact, she kept saying how we needed to talk and I kept shutting her off. I don’t wanna talk anymore; I no longer do those heart-to-heart-opening-up talks. I may be as talkative as hell, but once I am offended that way, I just prefer to keep my mouth shut. She kept saying how we’re still sisters and how she loves me and asked me if I loved her back, I found myself looking the other way as I told her I hated that word and I no longer believed people could actually mean it without hiding behind it as the inflicted pain on their loved ones. She said I was being silly because our sibling love is much higher than that, I didn’t have it in me to tell her that it wasn’t, and that after the things she said, I was only interested in us being sisters in a formal way, whatever that is.

Call me 3ayela for not willing to talk things through, but I am beginning to think that some feelings are better left un-discussed and un-channeled. I must confess, detachment never felt so appealing.

I had a bad night, but then again, I’ve had worse. Mocha didn’t seem comfy in his sleep either. You know your nights sucked when you fall to restless sleep after 2:00 am to wake up on your own for no good reason at 6:00 am. We showered and got out of the room to have breakfast at 7:30. On our way to the restaurant mocha fell as he was insisting on walking and running, so I told my sis to leave us there and catch her group while I took care of him, which resulted in us losing track of one another and having breakfast in two different restaurants. Luckily the waiters in my restaurant were helpful and friendly, and mocha enjoyed poking his food as I fed him.

I finally got back to the room and actually had some sleep once I checked my work mail and sent out some replies using dial-up since there is no wi-fi in the room, let alone that it costs over 26 egps an hour!!

Shortly after waking up, I got into the bathroom to find a gecko. I screamed so loud, I think I heard echo! Why! WHY would I find a spider yesterday and find a gecko today?! I decided against using the bathroom until further notice, which happened around 40 minutes later when mocha decided he needed a change!

I got into the bathroom offering the tiny gecko a treaty and promising I wouldn’t even consider harming it as long as it remained hidden! The gecko kept its promise, but as I got closer to the lavatory, I spotted a vicious looking spider on the wall next to the mirror, and it was significantly bigger than the one I killed yesterday, 3aaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

That was it! I cleaned up mocha in a hurry, got out, got dressed, called customer care and asked them to send someone from housekeeping and almost freaked at the guy when I sense how he was trying to contain his laughter, which made him apologize.

I spent around 30 minutes at the unit lobby playing with mocha until the room was done. I got back into the room to find some customer care dude checking if I was satisfied with how clean the room have supposedly become. I think that’s code for me being their joke for the past 30 minutes; I know it makes me sound paranoid, but you should have heard the tone.

I slept again once mocha was asleep, this time it was for a longer time, only my sleep was dreams about my x pointing a gun at me through a door and I could see through it, followed by my own attempt to kill myself! Ain’t life just grand?!

I woke up to find a text message from my sis saying that she was expected back 20 minutes ago and that she had already ate lunch. I called her asking if she felt like dinner together, she said there were dinner arrangements with her colleagues that she was going to ditch because she didn’t feel like eating and that she needed to rest.

She came back and asked how my day was, I told her it was ok. She said, “enty betharagy, makalateesh men sa3et el fetar le7ad delwa2ty” I told her I made an order shortly before she came back and that it was expected any minute.

So far, I hate that I came to Sharm, I hate the city, I hate the resort even though it’s supposedly five stars, I hate the cable tv that only has one channel in English, CNN and two channels in Arabic, Al Jazira & Rotana Cinema! I hate the fight I had with my sister, I hate having missed work to be trapped in a secluded place where I don’t even feel like getting out of my room because of the unbearable heat. I hate that my plans starting the next weekend two days earlier to go to el Ein el Sokhna are practically ruined.

I am starting to think my sisters are right; perhaps I can do nothing but complain! I think I have gotten used to wallowing instead of actually doing something about it; I think I have become addicted to misfortunes because it’s easier to whine than it is to change things and shake them up! Or maybe I wasn’t clear! I need a vacation either without both of my kids where I am assured they are well taken care of and happy or a vacation with both of them with me, plus someone who babysits until I get my own treats. At this point, I am not even sure if anything can work for me; therefore, I will no longer have hopes or wishes, I give up.

… and the volcano erupted…

Three weeks ago, I went to my art therapist for my second time. I had agreed with him that I do the drawing at home and visit for the analysis in order to not waste time waiting for my turn since it seems to be really hard for my family to babysit my kids.

I remember one of my drawings was done when I was having a fight with my sister. Also, I remember that during most of my drawings I would remember something upsetting and I would try to put it into whatever it is I was coloring! I had forgotten about that until he mentioned it. He looked through my drawings and made a note about how I still seem to have not found myself, and then he said, “Your reactions tend to be extremely violent and aggressive! However, it seems they get that way when you’re really provoked and pushed beyond your limits; otherwise, you’re very peaceful”.

We were interrupted for a while and then when we resumed, I agreed with him. He told me that my anger was basically harming me, not those who trigger it… that my violence and aggression have a negative impact only on me. I commented that I tend to be on the angry side and that i seem to have been supressing it for a while now, he explained that anger is usually a reaction in the form of feelings that need to be expressed and channeled; otherwise, it would turn into depression. He said the optimum thing for me was to learn to channel my anger and express it in the form of being more assertive.

I was shocked to hear he thought I was not assertive enough; I always thought I was! Everyone around me always made not to subtle comments about my attitude and my strong character and how sometimes I behave more like a male rather than the average submissive female!! He argued that it’s different, that I tend to be too nice to those I care for, that I might pressure myself into taking more than I can handle out of my care and out of my tendency to walk in their shoes.

I tried to argue, but I couldn’t find much to say. He proved his point by referring to my x and how I endured more than I should have and waited until I was pushed too hard and simply couldn’t take anymore. He warned me that I should not allow those who love me to push me beyond my limits. He said I should make my boundaries clear and explain the things I am not willing to take clearly enough in a black/white kinda way; that I should be more assertive that way.

I have been thinking about that since that last session. I’ve been watching myself dealing with my family. As a matter of fact, my friends know my boundaries, they have all experienced angry me and they simply know how to avoid her; nonetheless, my family never knew how to avoid angry me although they have had numberless encounters with her!!

In the past three weeks, I have been on the verge of losing my temper with my mom and my two sisters, and I have really wanted to talk to them and practice my therapist’s advice because I did not want to start having grudges with people I care for. I’ve been putting off that kind of talk for until I am calm enough to do it in an assertive way rather than an angry way.

Seems like I have been putting it off for quite a long time… because today I erupted.

I find my mom pretty abusive with her words and her implications. I feel that she always gives me the biggest dosage because I am the one who fails to ignore her. She’s been making not so subtle comments about how much mess and noise my kids are making, how I should be a better mother when she herself has failed to be a better mother for me for the past 27 years! She doesn’t see her failure, she doesn’t realize that my sisters spending time in their rooms or out with friends to avoid communicating with her.

My parents do not understand my daily battle with myself talking myself out of blaming them. I hate blaming people, especially when it has to do with my own wrong decisions… but here are the facts…

My parents were suffocating me since before I have become a teenager; strict curfews, continuous invasion of my privacy, and constant abuse of my social life!! They made marriage sound more like a getaway plan rather than a choice, so finding someone I loved made it even better; I dressed him on a shiny armor and put him on a white horse and jumped with utter joy when he reached out for my hand!! Now that I am back broken, I will resume the life style they once imposed on me out of their protection of me from what people would think of a divorcee!!

Perhaps I would have been more accepting of it if they applied the same kind of treatment with my younger sisters. But no!! they seem to give them more space to do things I was never allowed to and until now I don’t think I would be allowed to do!! It drives me crazy that I actually had to tell a lie about where I was the other day to have a couple of hours with a friend!! I am 27 for the love of God!!! 7aga teksef!! I know my sisters lie and twist facts a lot to get away with whatever it is they want to do; I taught them that, but to do it myself at this age is just humiliating.

I NEED A BREAK PEOPLE… I am sorry if you find my desperate need for a break too much to ask for or think it’s some sort of an irresponsible behavior. If you call this irresponsible, what do you call what my x has been doing!! Ok, strike that, I refuse to be compared to him. But I do need a break, I think I deserve one and I don’t think it’s a selfish thing to have one, no strings attached. I want a peaceful night were I can simply watch the stars in the sky and listen to my music, I need a massage, I need time with my best friend were I can catch up without having to watch out for either beem or mocha and worry about them harming themselves or each other!!

Now my two sisters… I’ve been passive aggressive with both for a while now, but I am sorry gals, you really have been pushing me! Both of you know that I love you too insanely and that the thought of us getting that distant is extremely painful to me… but lately, it seems like you don’t give the slightest care, and it hurts.

You don’t have to be that condescending, you don’t need to detach that way, you don’t need to judge that much, you don’t have to be that insensitive with all the things you say, do and even imply!! You are four years and six years younger than me and alhamdulilah neither of you have done my mistakes and if you still want me in your lives as a friend, not just a sister, I will always make sure you don’t repeat any of my mistakes, but it seems you don’t even care that much for me as a sister.

I don’t even know how to explain it in details because it’s too raw and I am too sore that way!!

I detach when strangers piss me off. I simply act all snobbish and arrogant and stop sympathizing. Lately you’ve been hurting me in so many ways and treating me in this particular way as if I did something terrible, and I am sorry but I don’t see what I have done; if anything, I think I should start acting that way and start detaching for preservation purposes.

And no, I have not started it and yours is not a reaction to something I have done like you keep saying. That day you wrote that you only react, I tried to think of my action so hard but I couldn't put my hand on it! If I had done anything that earned me that so called reaction, I would have taken it better, because I am very aware of my actions and I do take full responsibility for them. And this makes it hurt even more.

My dear family, you think I have been taking enough time to heal and stand back on my feet. In fact, you’ve supported me for quite a while, and I am thankful, but I have not healed yet, and I am sorry if by saying that I seem like a whining b!^$# but I have not healed! I am feeling better; I started feeling better with your help, but now, you’re denying me that help and suggesting that I don’t even deserve it!!

I wanna lash out and tell you that I don’t need your help or your support and that I would rather move out and rely on myself. But sadly, I can’t; and the fact that I can’t makes it twice as hard for me to suck it up and adapt. How can I adapt when I feel so helpless and dependant?! Every time I see things for what they are that way, I resent my life and I resent my choices. I try not to blame anyone but me, and usually I blame no one but myself.

I blame me for taking a lot more than I can handle from each and every one I cared for. I blame myself for walking in too many shoes when the ones I care for did not bother walking in mine when I needed it the most! I am ashamed at myself for that, because I always always believed that any relationship has to be both ways, and that one should never give more than they take unless at other times they take more than they give. Looks like I gave too much and when I needed to take some more than I gave my check bounced.

I am not badly hurt or heartbroken; I am not even that disappointed. I have already talked to my mother in an erupting manner followed by a calmer manner. As usual, she had to misinterpreted some of what I said into siblings jealousy which infuriated me, but I explained that I never wanted anything my sisters had that I didn’t, simply because I am aware than I had other things they never had, she will never get it though. But I decided to talk to my sisters; if not today, then perhaps when they read this… they’re welcomed to come discuss it provided they don’t do it when I am in one of my pseudo happy moods, I cherish those and I would hate to have them ruined because they are the closest I get to happy.

So there, the volcano erupted, and alhamdulilah it wasn’t that bad. It was much worse in my head.