Fallen

I admit, I was righteous, a tight ass according to many, but in my righteousness I found my comfort. Even in my constant struggle to live up to my own high standards, I enjoyed my pride enjoyed winning every ethical challenge.

In my own utopia oblivion, I always believed that the one thing I should always do is what I think is right; I believed in the notion of “wrong is wrong, right is right” religiously; I never accepted any justification for wrong and I never thought people would disagree on what’s right. After being slapped around, I learned to tolerate wrong from people and have it in me to see their “false” justifications, but never from myself... condescending perhaps, but in the most tolerant way I knew!

This was how I nourished my pride; this was also how I kept my faith. I always believed that if I could live up to those standards with every challenge, I would definitely have it in me to accept all my misfortunes and I would be able to pray for God’s mercy in times of crisis. This was how I managed to be patient, strong, and confident; I used my pride and my stubbornness to hold on to who I thought I was, and when everything fell from around me, I held on even more tightly and stubbornly.

Until today.

All my righteous notions and phrases haunted me so mercilessly. Today, I learned the hard way that sometimes what I should do, is not what I think is right. I saw first hand how what I should do, as not-right/wrong as it is, is still justified and somehow right! I was shocked and hurt and confused and… hurt, majorly hurt.

Today, stretching the truth to its maximum was not a lie. Today, the thing I took pride in the most, my truthfulness, was compromised because that was what I honestly believed I should do. I stretched the truth because that was what I should do for the one I love the most. I could not look him in the eye and beg him to spare me because it would have been selfish of me to serve my pride over him… meh, I guess I am too proud to feel selfish anyway.

I shivered inside out… and I felt cold inside out… and I could see my surrounding blurry doing as I was told. I tried to block the feeling and its humiliation by remembering all the reasons and all the justifications; I held on -as tight as I know how- to the context that brought me there as the words rigidly got out of my mouth. I did it when in my heart I knew I will never look at myself in the mirror and feel as proud... and it still hurts too much that I will be too ashamed to ask my God to bless and protect me and those I love, because today I took it on my own to do so, and I know I am not half as strong as I ask my God to be for me.

“some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall”

I just wish I fell… I would like to believe that if it were really my choice and if it were only me who’d deal with consequences, I would have chosen to fall.

Today was a bad day for me, for my stupid notions and my foolish foolish pride. Today, I only felt fear and shame, and that was a worse fall.

A dream-induced nostalgia!

Days ago, I had a dream, a strange one…

I was in the art therapy studio, knowing that Dr. M had passed away, I don’t exactly remember if there were other people, but I was very close to the wall that had his self portraits and none of them was there!

I kept touching the bare walls as I fought to hold back my tears… I wanted to cry so badly…

I woke up feeling extremely down and depressed…

The same day I visited an old friend from my previous job at her home… she had a big portrait of our late boss S, the one I loved and respected.

I kept staring at the old photo with her skin revealing that it was taken when she was younger than when I’ve known her… and I forced the words to come to my mouth “Allah yer7amek ya S” then I paused and said “wa7shany awy!”

Today, I was in downtown running a government related errand. While waiting for the driver to pick me up, I decided to walk around; I was in my sneakers and the weather was nice. I kept walking from one random street to the other until I stopped to read the name of the street - “شارع شمبليون”… I stopped, looked across the street to the far extension on its other side and realized that I was a few blocks away from the Art Therapy Center. I stood there for a while as if I was lost, my eyes had tears and my heart felt heavy, then I said “Allah yer7amak ya Dr. M” and got on the sidewalk and continued walking towards Tahrir Square.

Other than that, I had a good day. Alhamdulilah.

I was off to bed, and I suddenly remembered all that and had the strong urge to write about it, so there!

Friend of Foe?

Do I see the good in people because it's actually there or just because I desperately want to see it?

And by seeing what could be fake-good, am I setting my hopes too high only to fall after disappointment shatters my silly expectations?

It makes me both angry and confused that everyone else views what I see a nice gesture as a twisted and conniving move.

How stupid, delusional, and naïve must I be? Na2a, at this point, I am not unique or kind or even innocent, I must be plain HABLA, not to mention color blind if I fail to see what everyone else sees in bright colors!! I am still not even sure who’s right, those around me or myself?

Could it possibly be that I refuse to see the bad like everyone else because somehow it might diminish my self-worth – people are playing nice because they want something out of me, not because I deserve it…

Or is it simply because I do by people as I like them to do by me!

I can’t believe I still expect the truth from everyone just because I lay my cards as I promise in my most reassuring tone that I will not flee even if it’s not to my liking.

I have honored my word every single time; I have always told the truth, and I kept a straight face and even a compassionate tonee when told things others would reject, and I never showed any signs of dismay.

As hard as it is to believe, that I’d rather be insulted right to my face than be lied to or used without my knowing?

Why the games? Why the possibility of being played? Ufff!

People ask for honesty a lot more often than they can handle it, and more importantly a lot more often than they are willing to give it…

I will never understand people; how could I possibly when I fail to understand myself on daily basis?!

Mesh la3ba!

I don’t want to understand people, I don’t even care about understanding myself anymore; by the time I do I will either be dead or too old to make any use out of it!

But my question still lingers – have people become that cynical or am I that out of place and the world has gone bad a lot more than I can possibly think?!

Arms that once held me…

I remember arms that held me so tight, arms where I found warmth, love and unconditional love, arms that felt ever tender, arms where I wish I could have stayed forever. I miss those arms, I miss how they smelled and how loved I felt in them, every night before I sleep, I pray I’d have those arms around me in my sleep like they held me long ago…

I remember other arms, arms that felt like home, arms that I missed for so long and lingered for with tears only to be wrapped in them for brief minutes before yet another separation, arms that disappointed me like no other. As genuine as it was then, it lost its meaning now for I didn’t know better. I miss those arms, I wish they lasted, but I would never want them back…

And there were arms I thought were mine, arms I thought would never forsake me, arms where I thought I felt safe and loved, arms I mistakenly thought would protect me, arms that squeezed life out of me. The memory of those arms makes me noxious and sick and I find myself gasping for air when they come to mind…

And there are those arms, arms I know are loving and sincere, arms that I know would keep me safe and protect me from all harm, arms I really need, arms where I long to be, hoping I would be able to cry my heart out without losing my pride. I love those arms, yet I am too scared of surrendering in them; I’m afraid they’d get tired of holding me, and I am more afraid of ever losing them that I force myself to do without them. I wish I could melt in those arms… no, I wish those arms would be there forever even if I never let them hold me, but I need to know that they’re always there…

There are also those little arms, arms that barely wrap around me, yet give me a sense of happiness and joy mixed with traces of sorrow and hurt, arms that fill me with hope and yet fear, fear of the unknown. I love those arms…

And then, there are my arms…

Arms that are only capable of holding those I love so close to my heart, hoping it would be enough to ease away their pain… Arms that want to be warm, safe, protective, and loving… Arms that are terrified of being cruel, hard or disappointing… I think of how much love I need to channel with those arms every time I hold my kids, I need them to know the things I can only say with my arms as I hold them…

A reoccurring dream…

A long day at the pool with my boys, followed by post pool exhaustion and an unusual earache!

I walked somewhere, and I saw him; his kind face and his peaceful aura…

“But you’re dead!!” I thought…

He smiled and said nothing…

“How come you’re dead, and yet I keep seeing you alive and well… like you’re always there, like your death was a bad dream!” I kept wondering…

He smiled even more and told me in his calmest tone of voice “I never really left, I will always be here, and you’ll always know where to find me”

I walked towards him to touch his hand, and before I knew it, I felt my Mocha climbing next to me in bed and laying in my arm…

I woke up to see the nanny putting Beem in bed and mumbled something to her before I hugged Mocha.

I closed my eyes again…

Then I opened them wide; I had just realized that it was a dream!

I don’t know if it’s the first time I have it, or if I had already done a couple of times, but it felt so familiar!

I felt peace… They say it's a good sign to dream of dead ones looking so good!

And I said a prayer for him.

Never Been Happier!!

I don’t think I can put in words, but for the sake of all the sadness on this blog, I should at least try! So excuse the incoherence and inadequate choice of words; I’m too happy to actually find the right words to describe any of it!

I knew Rasha was on to something when I saw two of my friends recently added to her list of friends. She hid the FB notification, but she couldn’t hide their becoming mutual friends from me; strangely enough, I stumbled on her profile accidentally!!!

All I wanted was to sit somewhere quiet where Rasha, D and whomever of my friends would join for a get together. I knew it was not that easy given how not all of my friends know one another and I didn’t even ask or say how it would be great. I told a couple of my friends to join so casually so that they wouldn’t feel urged to since it was my birthday and all!

I lost track of my doubts about Rasha planning something; she was really subtle, she was not too hectic or too nervous for me to tell. Actually, she was too calm and quiet and she managed to orchestrate everything and divide the distraction equally among the rest of my friends. I always thought I’d figure you out Rasha because of how nervous you get when you’re on to something!!!

Mayo & Dee called me on my way to go some scarf shopping and made me change my plans. I drove the kids home, met with the girls to do my scarf shopping, and planned to go to the hair dresser’s for some pampering! Dee claimed she needed to shop for a very specific top in order to stall, and Mayo was about to buy a hideous golden belt just to keep me distracted. We went to shops we never shop in and poor Dee actually tried on a set of hideous stuff and made me laugh until I got cramps!!!!!

Not just that, they made me try an outfit and had me buy it because it looked good on me. Mayo urged me to change into that outfit so that I’d be wearing something new on my birthday. I love the outfit and I’d wear it everyday to remind me of the evening I had!

Honestly, the girls did all they could to keep me away from Condetti until everyone was there to surprise me! They even arranged with my sis to buy me some time at home so that I won’t have to be home early. Really appreciated that!

Although I take pride in my ability to connect the dots, I must say everyone did a great job yesterday distracting me that despite all the signs I just stopped suspecting anything!

I still laugh at how I stumbled on Mayo & Dee all parked and getting out of the car to beat me to Condetti and surprise me after I had supposedly left them, yet I didn't pick on it much when Dee said she had forgotten her jacket in my car (which she did)! Or parking right behind Will’s car and thinking “doesn’t will drive a similar car?!” and then shaking it off!! 2al connect the dots 2al, ya fde7ty!

I was carrying my pillowcase of a laptop and walking into Condetti aiming for the non-smoking area when I noticed how the waiters had somehow blocked my way so that I’d head for the smoking area where almost everyone was laughing while waiting for me, (did you guys scream surprise, I honestly can’t remember!!)

I saw my sisters, D, Will, Mayo & Dee and I was shaken and shivering and mumbling stuff, I can’t really remember; all I remember is that I was actually surprised and happy!

Before I noticed, either Mayo or Dee placed the Derby Hat on my head while Will was giving me my birthday gift (thanks for the perfume, you know I love!) The moment I felt the hat on my head I asked about Rasha for I’ve been nagging for God knows how long for one!!(I wore it to work today)

I sat next to my D and my body couldn’t stop shaking from all the happiness and excitement. I never knew I could shake and shiver that way out of happiness; I have only tried it when I was angry! It feels AMAZING when you’re happy!

A while later, Rasha arrived.

I sat there feeling like I couldn’t possibly be happier!

A while later A joined and I just didn’t think he was gonna make it!!

And just as I thought that was it and was about to get comfy and adjusted to the amazing surprises, Ahmed joined!!! Now Rasha, that was beyond any expectations and I was SHOCKED, in a very good way.

I couldn’t believe how sweet and friendly Ahmed was… such a nice guy!

I kept getting hot and cold episodes which made me shiver; you see, I don’t think I am used to that much happiness!! Remembering it, I can still shiver!! A kept saying I was crazy complaining about how hot then shivering!

I ended up sitting on the couch next to D leaning on her shoulder. For a while there, I sat there and watched everyone talking, joking and laughing and I secreting wondered to myself “All those people gathered to make a remarkably good day! I must have done something amazing in my life to deserve that much effort out of each and everyone one of them” I felt loved, and it felt GREAT!

Ahmed said I should say a speech!

It couldn’t be any cheesier, but it was genuine!! Yes, I had no wishes to think of, I had all I could possibly ask for, friends who were there to make me happy and who would go to such measures to do it!

That was when each wished me something. I got sweet wishes and funny wishes, and even wishes that I was promised wouldn’t come true ;) not to mention wishes that got my sis hit!

Before Ahmed left he asked me to choose a song for him to sing me on my birthday. I had too many in mind but I thought I should ask for my “feel good song”; Somewhere Beyond the Sea. And he sang it :)

And then there was my “cake”… gardal Profitrole!!!

Rasha!! You managed to orchestrate a day made of my favorite things!!! And you had such a perfect team, even the ones who couldn’t make it were amazing.

I couldn’t be happier and I seriously couldn’t be more grateful!!

You guys are leaving me speechless!! How could I possibly do the same for you? I couldn’t possibly top what you’ve done for me even if I tried!!!!!!

I am speechless… I am happy… and I am eternally grateful…

This is by all means the best birthday I’ve ever had!

THANKS!

On death, compassion, and things better left unsaid…

This post might make me seem heartless and cruel. Speaking about death usually makes me sound heartless and cruel, but it could have to do with my upbringing and how somehow I learned in the process that death is something we don’t talk about, it is something we should rather learn to deal with and accept, eventually. I understand it is only true as far as I am concerned and that it does not apply to other people.

Some relatively long time ago, when my nana died (Allah yer7amha), I didn’t cry because I thought it was better for her to pass away rather than live an non-dignifying life with the paralysis that left her unable to move or speak or even recognize any of us at some point. She was a strong woman who deserved to die with her pride and dignity intact, or so I believed.

Around a year after her death, my uncle (who had just turned rather a bit more religious) was talking to me about someone’s death, I don’t remember who exactly, but I remember saying that a short death is much better than a prolonged one. My uncle argued that the prolonged death is sometimes better for the person because it’s a way for them to repent and pray for Allah swt, as well as it is for those around them to earn thawab for taking care of them. He said I was blinded by my pride and life-related calculations, while the bigger picture is about humility, thawab and takfeer zonoob!

That was when I mourned my late nana (Allah yer7amha). That was when I kept praying that the suffering before her death was counted for more thawab and that all her zonoob were repented already. That was when I found myself wishing she had more humiliation in life for the sake of a better eternity. Oh well.

Still until now, death baffles me. it shocks me beyond my ability to cry and it paralyses my tongue from saying the right prayers for the people I know are dear to my heart.

Uncle A died around three years ago, I cried from the shock even though I knew he was terribly sick. I cried his loss; that such a good person was taken from such a horrible life leaving it one good person less, until I went to his wake. Seeing how strong his family was holding up, seeing how peaceful things were where he had once been, it made the peace seep through my soul. And later, I had a very good dream of him, a dream that meant a lot as my mom told me later. May he rest in peace.

Last month when Dr. Magdi died, I was shaken so hard. It was probably the shock of losing him so suddenly and unexpectedly, especially at a time when I relied on him to feel better about all that was going wrong in my life. I cried so hard -to my own surprise- over someone whom I barely knew, yet had such a positive impact on my life. I didn’t want to stop crying over him because it was the only way I could hold on to his memory; until I realized that I had special memories of him to hold on to, things I needed to remember for my own well being. And so I let him go with my prayers.

Two days ago when S passed away, it was another anticipated tragedy. She was badly sick and I knew she was dying after 5 years of fighting cancer that kept re-attacking more viciously one time after the other. I tried to use my previously learned lesson about death to not collapse or cry, I tried to find the right prayers for her, but I just couldn’t. Tears just fell silently without any control when I pictured her walking around us like she always did, right there while I was at her wake. I kept murmuring “Allah yer7amha” and I kept thinking of how amazing she was, and it made me smile even through the tears. Her strength will be missed, but her beautiful spirit will always be there in my head reminding me of all the things she used to tell me.

It could be that I lost a few good people whom I mourn on daily basis as little things in life remind me of them or when their memory just lingers in my heart. But hearing about the president’s grandson dying didn’t get to me at first. It may make me seem heartless like I mentioned, but when you had just lost an idol to death, hearing that someone you simply do not like had lost someone dear to him doesn’t touch you, you find your angry self (at death, life and all the people in it) murmuring “so what, people lose loved ones every day and they hurt and ache and their lives are forever scarred that way”.

No, I didn’t instantly feel any sympathy because in my head that man never had any sympathy for the pain people go through on daily basis; pain I can almost taste when I deal with people until I forget about it once I go by with my own daily concerns. Not to mention the agony and fear caused by the injustice and abuse that you hear of happening to othe people and thank God on daily basis that it is not yet your turn to be that kind of victim and fear the day when you will be.

Until I saw the photo, a family photo one of my FB friends posted with the little kid, the father, the uncle, and the grandparents. It completely changed how my heart felt and I instantly found myself aching. I couldn’t see people I didn’t know or care for; I saw my own son, and my parents surrounding him with their happy faces and I felt my heart clenching had it been my boy who was taken.

And that is compassion, the kind of compassion you feel without any control, the kind of compassion that makes you human, it makes you able to sympathize with people for whom you would normally feel no sympathy. The kind of compassion that makes you feel for people for their own loss rather than refrain from feeling because you’re judging them for their actions that you condone.

But like death, compassion is not something you should talk about, at least not in my book. You don’t walk around parading those human feeling you have just like you don’t walk around parading the tears you cried over a loved one lost to death. You say those things with a low tone of voice because they are supposed to come from the heart and they are not supposed to be for show; they lose their meaning that way.

So watching the Amr Adeeb segment on u-tube, the one with him urging the people to support the grieving family and reminding them of all the good that family did and make it sound like the people owed them that compassion, it made me angry. Sorry, but he was more like beating compassion out of them. Compassion is not something you feel because you’re asked to, and you never feel it out of gratitude, especially if gratitude is barely due!

To me, it sounded like nothing short of a cheap attempt to suck up by using a painful tragedy; if not, then it was just plain rude and insensitive, to all people including the president and his family; because if I were them, I wouldn’t like someone to beg others to feel sorry for my loss and support me.

I was not going to comment about that, or the tragedy of losing a grandchild for that matter out of my respect to the tragedy itself, and out of my own belief that such things are rather private.

Until I was provoked by reading an email a guy on the cultural group I’m in sent as a letter to the mourning grandfather. That letter reeked with pretense and lacks substance, and who the hell is that person and who died an made him in charge for him to say “Mr. President, I address you today not on behalf of the people but on behalf of myself, not as a citizen but as a human being…”! Speak for yourself man, and don’t trivialize other people’s feelings by implying that your words are good enough for them, especially when those words are not even proof-read!

Sometimes “el baqa2 l’Ellah” and “enna l’Ellah wa enna elayhi rage3oon” is much more eloquent than big phrases that give compassion a bad name.

Another good one gone!

She died yesterday.

Her death was not sudden; it was rather anticipated, or perhaps even awaited in hopes of her relief. The cancer had attacked again for the third time and this time it was more aggressive and vicious, and her body was already drained by the previous chemotherapy and radiotherapy to which she had been suggested the first two times around.

I called her the day I got my divorce; I was really happy and I wanted to share it with her. I knew she spent her weekends in Maadi and we’ve always said we’d meet at the weekend. Hearing her frail voice, I could say but “kont 3ayza ashoofek bas sootek ta3ban, kalemeeny when you feel better we hageelek 3ashan enty wa7shany” she responded “enty kaman ya habibty wa7shany, enty kowayesa?” I told her I was doing great, but I didn’t want to tell her the news on the phone; she would have needed to see my face to know for sure that I was ok and she sounded too exhausted.

Hanging up, I couldn’t help but cry! I mumbled something about how I don’t know if I will see her before she was gone. I am not psychic; it’s just that she was really sick.

Hearing the news today, I didn’t flinch, at least not at first. I quietly changed from white to black, dropped the kids off at the nursery, went to work and informed my boss that I’d leave for a funeral midday. I told a couple of people and I still couldn’t cry; death usually takes me some time to grasp and react.

I parked in the same street where I once visited to give her my condolences for her mother’s death. As I got off the car I saw one of the guys I worked with, I yelled his name and asked him where the mosque was, and he pointed and I went there.

My whole body started shaking when I saw the box that carried her coffin, and before I knew it, I started crying, it was as if I was seeing her for the last time, only I couldn’t. I saw Shery on the sidewalk with some other girl crying and sobbing, so I went to her, I know she’s the weaker one, I know S always worried about her and always asked me to “akhaly baly 3aleiha”. She saw me, and she collapsed in my arms and she kept saying “she’s gone” and I couldn’t stop myself from crying.

I sat there at the mosque completely out of my element; I don’t think I was even paying that much attention during dhuhr prayer or during salat el gha2eb.

S collapsed again as she saw the men carrying the coffin back to the car, I couldn’t watch I looked the other way and tried to soothe S. needless to say I failed miserably.

I didn’t know anyone but the people I worked with, I didn’t even know what her daughter looked like and I felt awkward giving her my condolences when she never met me; what would I tell her, your mom was my safety, she was an inspiration for me to be as strong as I never thought I’d be. Words would really fail to describe the things she represented to me, and words would not convey how I felt about her.

Goodbye strong one, you were a tree in every sense of the word, you stood up high for every one of us, and you were just amazing at it! You will always be remembered and missed, may you rest in peace.

Farewell…

I can’t seem to stop crying!

It’s beyond me to understand why I am so overwhelmed by a loss that’s not even mine as it is other people’s!

I didn’t know him well… it would be fair to say I didn’t know him at all!

Yet he knew all about me from the slightest of things… and it touched me too deep in my soul that he found so many positive things to say when all I felt was worthlessness!

I can’t stop crying!

I remember the kind look and the calm reassuring tone…


You’re stubborn, you’re full of stubbornness; it’s where you get that strength…

Your thoughts come from within; you hear all the other voices, but you only listen to your own voice, very individualistic…

Only you’ve never belonged to yourself; you always belonged to others and that’s why you’re too self-conscious…

You’re just beginning to find out about yourself and you like it, and perhaps you should…

I say, you continue listening to your own voice and find yourself and your passion and ignore all the voices, shut them out…


I will try to remember those words, and I will make sure I say a prayer for you when I’m done remembering!

It's amazing how someone I’ve known for so little could have that much insight into my soul...

It's even more amazing someone could bring that much peace just by saying the simplest of words!

And it hurts so badly to lose that!

May you rest in peace… and may those who have known and loved you more than I do find solace in remembering all the words you’ve told them…


Update: This is a post that was written about him, it brings tears to my eyes every time I read it!

That’s the way it is, and that’s how it shall stay…

I have a serious temper problem…

I lose my temper very often. Judging by how people perceive me at work as a mellow person, I think I have worked on it a bit. But my old colleagues from my previous job knew my temper; my best friends of them say I was intimidating and that they always feared the moment when they might unintentionally get on my bad side.

At home, I don’t hold my temper at all, perhaps except with my father; the man has character and presence that scares the crap out of my temper I must admit. I get angry at my sisters a lot, but they have no idea how much I hold back, as if they don’t remember the old me!

My sons are the only reason I am trying to learn to control my temper; because I hate myself when I lose it with them.


I am stubborn, very stubborn…

I think it’s ok when I actually have a valid point, but truth is even if I don’t, I can still be pretty stubborn about it. On rare occasions, I respond to logic and reason, but even then, it has to be done in certain ways that most people are incapable of. When I am wrong, I admit to myself that I am, and I do my best to admit it to others, which brings me to the next point…


I am too proud…

I must admit to a very ridiculous extent. I HATE it when I ask for favors. The closer the person of which I am asking the favor is, the worse I feel having to ask for it.

I would rarely ever tell someone they hurt me; I am too proud to admit I was hurt, let alone put it in words. I resort to humor and sometimes sarcasm to cover up for my red eyes or my bad mood; I think I can even be offensive that way!

If I sense someone dislikes me, I stay as far as possible and I go to extremes to avoid them. I wouldn’t be caught dead feeling like I am forcing anyone to be around me.

Even with those I know like me, I hate being a burden; last summer when my best friend was visiting from the states, I passed by her grandma’s the day she arrived to say hi, hug and kiss (I know sounds just wrong), and then left her for a week without even calling so that she can catch up with her family without being pressured to go out and have a snack and catch up.


I am crystal clear…

… to a transparent extent. Some would say it’s a good thing, but the ones I don't like beg to disagree because I tend to be obnoxious when provoked (refer to my temper). If you still insist, keep reading and you’ll know how bad it gets!


My biggest flaw: I love too much, I care too much and hell I expect too much… keyword: TOO MUCH

If I love someone (not necessarily in the romantic sense) to the extent that I manage my temper, become less stubborn, get over my pride, and allow my emotions to show in the tiniest of things I do for that person, I am most likely to lose that person because of my expectations of him/her.

I won’t say I lost my x that way; da kan ghalta asasan, I literally chose the wrong person based on all the wrong criteria. But my violent reaction and my extreme change must have count for something I must say!

Anyway, I managed to lose quite a few people that way; one single mistake that gets under my skin; before I know it, it goes deep enough to my bones and the relationship is scarred for life.

Soon enough my previously mentioned flaws catch up with me. So I become too angry to listen to any possible explanations, too stubborn to understand any, too freakin’ proud to show how I'm extremely hurt; and consequently, too obnoxious to be dealt with, which of course will lead to me being the bad guy by showing the other person my ugly side.


Conclusion…

That’s who I am. I have bad flaws, deadly ones if you may. But in my own twisted way, I manage to work around them and I would like to think that I make up for them. In my very own delusional way, I believe I am worth it (it could be my pride talking just as well).

So that’s it; I can’t change, and I won’t change because those flaws are only the bad side of a much better me who wouldn’t hold anything back when she cares.

If you can’t understand how I work and appreciate it, then go away, I most certainly don’t need your friendship; it means absolutely nothing to me.

If it’s any consolation, it hurts.

"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!

My Beem is Three!

I look at older photos I have of him and previous posts I wrote about him and I feel like it was just yesterday when he could barely say a word or two! Now, ma sha2 Allah mesh beyeskot!

Here’s a sample…


Hilarious Beem:

Me: A Avion, 2ool yalla!
Him: mesh ha2ool avion
Me: tab hat2ool B Bateau?
Him: mesh ha2ool bateau
Me: wala C Cadeau???
Him: la2 mesh ha2ool cadeau ba2a!
Me: tab 2ool D Dolphin
Him (finally getting the trick): mesh ha2ool
Me: wala E Étoile!!
Him: ha2ool KOFTA (this is what he says when I start asking him to repeat stuff after me!)
Me: enta KOFTA
(my sis getting in the room)
Me: yalla ya beem warreeha ennak bet2ool avion
Him: avion!
Me: B Bateau…
Him: bateau
Me: C Cadeau
Him (getting all excited): CADEAAAAUUUU
Sis: tab ya3ne eh Cadeau?
Him (bekol telqa2eya we theqa): TAYARAAAAAAAAAAA
Me: LA22AAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Mama: 3amal zay abdel Fattah el Ossary, 7anashon!!


Beem aleel el adab:

Me: battal le3b fel telefezyoon ya beem
Him: la2
Me: haz3al!
Him: ez3ali
Me: ha2ool le geddo 3aleik
Him: 2oleeloh
Me: ha2olo ennak we7esh we bete3mel ghalat!
Him: ha2olo enek enty we7sha we bete3mely ghalat
Me: ha2oom adrabak
Him: hadrabek
*me standing up and walking his way*
*him running to hide at mama’s or baba’s* gaban!!


Sweet Beem:

Him: mammmmyyyyy
Me: na3am!
Him (with the biggest, most adorable smile on his face): ba7ebik
Me (going all AWWWWW): ana Kaman ba7ebak awy awy awy
Him: ana ba7ebik awy awy awy (we lama yeb2a rady 3an mocha) we ba7eb mocha Kaman (we lama yeb2a beynam 3ala nafso) we ba7eboko koloko
Me (holding him so tight): ana ba7ebak aktar

I love this kid!

No, it’s not freakin’ ok!

A childhood friend of mine had a brain tumor right on the nerve feeding his right ear. He went to the states around three weeks ago and had the tumor removed, along with his hearing ability in the right ear. Now, he hears absolutely nothing if he sleeps on his left side, blocking his good ear. My friend is now recovering from the surgery and undergoing rehabilitation in order to deal with regaining his balance, since apparently it was not just hearing that he lost. I am grateful he recovered, but I can’t grasp the loss, and I am terrified the tumor would come back.

I’ve last seen my friend during my Luxor and Aswan trip. My friend turns 31 in September. My friend had two beautiful girls, and his wife has just given birth to the third while he was in the states having his surgery. My friend is a good husband and a great daddy.

My friend is a good guy. My friend used to help me carry my kids’ stroller on and off the boat in Aswan. My friend would hold my Beem and soothe him when he noticed I was too tired to walk carrying him. My friend is a good guy.

My dad told me about my friend a couple of hours before the x’s aunt came to visit the kids bearing his cheap gifts. I couldn’t return the toys because my kids were so thrilled, but I did return the clothes and I was too stiff about it, it almost felt like I was kicking her out as I did it.

I was thinking of my friend, and how his health and his time with his kids has been affected for good, while my x enjoys his health and the time he doesn’t bother spending with his kids getting to know them; how my x never really held Mocha and has no clue what Beem would want for his next birthday! How all that seems trivial when compared to how my friend loses touch with his surroundings if he sleeps on the wrong side!

Things like that are hard for me to grasp. Things like this shake my entire existence and make me beg for God’s mercy and beg to understand His wisdom.

حكمتك يا رب

To my friends and those who know me…

I know I am not always a day in the park, unless the park is allowed to be messy and crappy and has some wasps flying here and there.

I’ve been told I can bring sunshine when I’m happy, that my smile can brighten someone’s day! But I am also aware how my temper can start storms of rage, and how my tears can be too depressing to handle; I make up for it by trying to stay quite when angry and smiling while crying; did you notice?

The sarcasm, it’s part of me that I love and cherish; I wouldn’t change it, so please bear with me. Better yet join me, it is fun, trust me, but just don’t make fun of others unless you can take it yourself!!

Depending on how well you know me, you might see me as a cynic. However, take a closer look, a deeper look perhaps; you’d see that I am believer in people and their potential of being good! I just remind myself that it’s only a potential because if I don’t I’d get disappointed more often.

Don’t let my weakness make you feel sorry for me or pity me; my weakness hides when I see pity in people’s eyes and fades when I remember the good things I have, the things that give me strength. But also, don’t let my strength fool you and make you think I couldn’t possibly be hurting, because I do, and surprisingly at the slightest things sometimes!

I am good with words, you must have noticed; I know which word to say in which phrase. Just don’t expect me to communicate verbally when I am troubled or when I am in need for something I simply couldn’t ask for! I lose words and I get confused in their meanings when I need to say them the most! Like the idiot I am, I expect, and perhaps wish people could read my mind and take that burden off of me; and like the idiot I am, I get disappointed when they don’t!

I know you might already know all that, and I know that you accept and appreciate me the way I am, because you’re still around showing your care and your support and enduring my numerous moments of stupidity! And for that I’m thankful. I try to do the same and I really hope I’m doing a good job!

To Kov…

Reading his last post, I couldn’t help but remember something I once read somewhere that suggested the following…

Sometimes being brave is actually being the coward; the one who is challenged to be courageous because people expect him to, yet steps back and passes, will be condemned by all as a coward! If one chooses to be viewed as a coward when expected to be courageous; if one ceases to care about others’ expectations, one is considered brave enough!

Kov, I know it may not be of any relevance, but let me tell you that... close your eyes and shush all the sounds in your surrounding, listen to your instincts and to those little voices in you and do what they say! Don’t torture yourself by living up to other people’s expectations, or even yours for that matter; only live up to whatever your instincts are ready and willing to do. There, my 2 cents!!

Wishing you well buddy :)

A Snack, a Granita, a five-hours Conversation, and Coffee!

Yesterday I met with an old college professor of mine whom I comfortably refer to as friend. We haven’t met during the past nine years, but we’ve managed to keep in touch, thanks to emails and facebook!!

During the five hours we spent talking, I must say I couldn’t have possibly been happier! At some point, we had this conversation…

Me: … so, I was advised to avoid eye contact in case I was
provoked!
Him *laughing*: best advice ever! *more laughter* because you have the worse eye contact when you dislike someone!
Me *extremely surprised*: ME!!! When did that ever happen with you?!! You do know how much I like you!! You NEVER got on my bad side!!
Him *still laughing*: yeah I know, you’ve been amazingly sweet that it’s hard to picture you disliking anyone! But I remember seeing how you would glare at colleagues who bothered you back in college; it would be like you were shooting FIRE then all of a sudden, it would turn to ICE!! I remember thinking that could not be possible even physics wise!!
Me *laughing*: I’ve been told it was a good thing looks don’t kill because I would have been doing time now, lots of it!! I still find it unbelievable you noticed enough to remember!!
Him: you have no idea who remarkable that glare is!!

I was extremely touched by how much he remembered of me!! He always said he thought I was a unique person and that he admired my character. He always said that I communicated well and knew how to deliver my point, and that most of the time I was right and it fascinated him. I generally took his words of praise as a compliment despite the fact that M is not the type who make up things just to be nice, but seeing how he remembered such a detail amazed me! I was flattered someone I respect and admire that much thinks of me that way and actually knows about me something I never deliberately shared!!

Yesterday, I learned a lot of things from M through the most general of things that we discussed; everyday-life kinda stuff, only from a perspective I could relate to, finally!!!

As we walked down road 9 from Cilantro to Greko, I was amazed at how he knew random kids who sold tissues at the street and the guards who stood by the bank for God knows how many years to whom I never bothered stopping by and saying hello!! We walked into Greko and everyone knew and sincerely greeted him; the cashier actually told me I was privileged to be M’s friend, I confirmed with a big smile!

By the time I dropped him off to where he’s staying, he told me it was the most fun he had in Egypt so far! I told him we should repeat it before he left back home, and I really hope we would.

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.

I’m grateful...

I’m grateful for every single thing that happened today!

I’m grateful for how the day started at the stroke of midnight with my best friend D calling to be the first to wish me a happy birthday like back in the old days...

I’m grateful that I came back to my laptop to find tons and tons of birthday wishes sent through by my amazing blogger buddies and all my friends who happened to be online and awake at that time!

I’m grateful for the weird late call starting with “fraiser”!!!!

I’m grateful for being able to wake up at 6 am so that I could get my kids ready to go to the nursery and make it to work on time for a change!

I’m grateful that my colleagues commented that I looked radiant and that my boss let me take a couple of hours off to check on my kids in their new nursery...

I’m grateful that all through my working hours, every blog I stumbled upon, I found the author wishing me a happy birthday!! It really felt like unwrapping a present each time... Thank you all dear blogger buddies; your gesture made my day, literally :)

I’m grateful I ran into M on facebook chat and got to know he’d be visiting Egypt this month and that we could get together some time...

I’m grateful my sister offered to babysit my kids so that I could go out with my two best friends...

I’m grateful I got to meet D and H out and that I could have my first peaceful dinner in quite some time without mocha or beem making a scene...

I’m grateful H decided to stop by just to wish me a happy birthday...

I’m grateful that on my way home, a B’s sister called to tell me B sent me a gift and that she wants to meet so that she can give it to me... Thanks B, I hope you’re reading, you’re just too kind :)

I’m grateful that I found a parking place and did not have to drive around the house till one clears...

I’m grateful both my kids were up when I was home and I got to see how happy they were with the balloons and the toys I got on my way home; it’s priceless to see those two jumping joyfully

I’m grateful that up until now (3 minutes to midnight), I have not received one single text message from him and not a single missed call... I really am grateful.

All those things I just said I’m grateful for made my day extraordinary... I think I just had the first good birthday in quite some time... for that I am most grateful :)

I still care!

I was told on the phone that you’re in town. I was told in an ironic tone -that I did not notice at first- to call and check on you. As much as I remember how angry and disappointed I was at you when you were last here, I found a tear rolling my cheek as I asked for your number in a shaken voice.

I still care! Is it because we have the same blood? Or is because you were my idol for too long? Or is it because you’re the closest thing I ever had to a brother; as a matter of fact, you were always my brother figure! So is it because I need a brother right now? I don’t know. All I know is that I miss you, regardless of how angry and disappointed I might still be. I never lie to myself about those things.

I just don’t know what I would say if I get a number and dial it and hear your voice! I don’t know how I will sound. I don’t know if I will tell you “wa7ashteny awy” with my sincere childish tone, or I will just go with “3amel eh” with my cold and distant tone; either way, I know that I miss you.

I don’t know if I will go out and meet you. If I do, will I burry myself in your arms like I always did, or will I just shake hands and watch your eyes accusing me of being cruel and unforgiving like you did last time as you said that you never thought I would give up on you?

I did give up on you, I admit it. I got you off that pedestal so suddenly, and perhaps for all the wrong reasons. But the moment you got down to be on the same grounds I was, I saw all your flaws and all the pain you caused to those who loved you before those who didn’t even bother. That was when the beautiful image I had of you got stained and ugly. It shook my faith in all the people I loved, because one day you were my favorite one of all.

I still care! Even when I see you now for who you really are; a selfish child who still thinks it’s “cool” to lie, in the body of an immature middle aged man, making a mess and causing pain, and crying because no one cares about you anymore. A person who accuses every one of things that are only half true because the other half is what you did! But I care; I still do, only I am not sure if I can show it, or if it would make much of a difference. This is why I gave up on you; I realized caring would not make a difference. I am sorry... If it means anything, I miss you, and I still care.

I wish I could go back to the days when I used to run around the house with you chasing me and finally carrying me so high until I started screaming out of both, fear and joy. I wish I could go back to the time when I used to sneak into your room despite all the warnings to wake you up so that you’d spend time with me. I wish you could meet my kids and relive those days in a few hours, but I am afraid this will not happen, and it breaks my heart… because I still care.