Showing posts with label unsents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unsents. Show all posts
February 11, 2009
Like music to my ears…
Some songs have a familiar friendly tune, with music so intriguing and inviting and always making me smile…
I play that music day and night; I just can't get enough of its effect on me…
I hum, I mumble, I sing and I dance… I just can't resist music when it’s so comforting and soothing and not too loud, can anyone resist harmony?
As the song plays over and over again, I know every tune, every moment of silence, and I learn when and how to sing the lyrics; however, it sometimes gets a bit harder when I sing along and skip a breath or a word to catch up with the music…
When I’m on my own, singing the song without the music, I pause to make sure I’m singing it right; it makes me pay more attention to its words, their meanings, and their significance… Sometimes I don’t like the words much; they’re too shallow or perhaps I just can’t relate... Aparently the friendly music was hiding a lot more behind it...
Then, when the same song plays, I think twice before singing along… No, I don’t want to say words I don’t feel; they lost a meaning they never really had; I was only singing along because I was charmed by the music, but now, the meaninglessness takes away the charm from the tune I once liked making
The music becomes an unpleasant reminder... When the song plays, I just skip forward to a familiar tune that I still like, or a new song with a new meaning that perhaps would make me smile…
Sometimes I never let that song play again, sometimes I just smile and let it play in the background without paying any attention, and sometimes I just smile and sing along, for old times’ sake… but never like before…
And you… you’re like that music to my ears…
September 14, 2008
Like it would ever mean anything to you…
I know I am expected to see you in the upcoming days; be it the court ruling that you see the kids or whatever it is you might try to do to crash into Beem’s birthday, although I know you’re too much of a coward to do the latter.
I don’t want to see you; God knows, your face and everything about you disgust me and fill me with a strong urge to throw up. Nonetheless, I am looking forward to it. I have a few words I would like to tell you face to face and see their effect on you. I want to see that fake hurt look that I know hides more rage than you could possibly convey as I go on saying the words I so carefully choose so that they hit where I know you’d be sore. Yes, I know your wounds the same way you know mine, and because of everything that’s been going on in my life, I have decided to blame you instead of me for a change, even if someday you were my choice.
Except that my friends -my good friends who know how my tone of voice betrays me when I start getting all angry as I speak of what you’ve done, and how my face turns all red and how my body starts shaking like I’m having a seizure- tell me it will only make me vulnerable to whatever you might have to say in reply. They tell me my words will not get through to your sick twisted mind and that you might actually mistake all the above for care or unresolved feelings.
So here it goes…
Since the night you sat me down and tried to brainwash me into thinking that it was all me, that I’ve been such a horrible horrible wife who have driven you into a dirty affair, since that night I’ve been constantly judging myself. All through that past year, fragments of our life together keep flashing in my head whenever I see quite simple things that happen through regular ordinary days, like couples fighting, like me standing in a crowd upright because there is no shoulder to lean on, or someone of those who know about it telling me that I am definitely too good for you. I would remember our small fights, and even our big ones and I would remember that even when I gave my worst reactions, the ones I would take back, I never offended you as a husband. Even when my tone of voice got too high for your inflated macho ego, even when I gave opinions that sounded more like orders to your insecure self, even when I kept crying and looking the other way as you said your lame sorry’s… I never disrespected you. My sisters and my mother implied on so many occasions that perhaps I might have, but between you and me, you know better. You know I stood by your side literally though thick and thin; I won’t name the incidents because it’s not like me, but you know each and everyone of them, not out of gratitude, but out of your hidden inferiority.
All through that time, whenever people from which I am distant tell me “… but there must have been good days”, I nod and murmur “of course there was…” only I no longer remember those. I know they must have existed but, I am sorry the things you’ve done, the horrible pain I somehow still feel under thick layers of pretense that I have recovered, make it impossible for me to focus on one good memory. The few times I could actually do that, tears came rushing from my eyes, because I couldn’t remember the specific moment, I just remembered it felt warm and felt like home, and then I remembered none of it was real… how could it have possibly been real? If it were, you would have left me before you had it in you to hurt me that way. And another thought haunts me… what if it was real? The thought that it could have actually been real will forever haunt me and scare me from ever feeling that way again. Thanks to you, my heart is crippled and my faith in romantic relationships is entirely shaken for you have forever tainted my perception of love and marriage, I resent you for that.
I tried; God knows I tried to tell my self that perhaps you’re a good person, and that all this is a result of a mad chain reaction of anger, stubbornness, and people getting in the middle. I tried so hard to tell myself that there’s a good person in there who would respond to my sincere pleads to end things in a civil way, but obviously that person is another figment of my disturbed imagination, just like the whole persona of you for which I have once fallen.
You’re not a good person; you have no morals or ethics or conscience. انت معندكش حتى كرامة و لا نخوة و لا أي حاجة من اللي بيوصفوا بيها أخلاق الرجالة. No man, no true man would do that to his wife no matter how horrible she was. No man would abandon a wife he has repeatedly abused, humiliated and badmouthed to people, and then refuse to let her go, but rather leave her that way in an… an unmarried/undivorced status. No man would find honor or manhood in such behavior. You and your likes give men such bad bad name. This is the exact thought that comes to mind every single time I am filling an application where I have to identify my marital status.
I would say you give fathers a bad name too, but I wouldn’t call you a father to begin with. You call and send text to tell me you would like to participate in whatever birthday arrangement I plan for Beem, seriously???? We ya tara hatsharek be eh, be ta3atofak, since we’re in Ramadan?!!! Is that supposed to make any sense? That you want to be a part of a birthday plan when you don’t even know what your sons look like now, that you would not recognize them if they pass you by in the street?!! You want me to buy that you would chip in a party and buy a gift that would dazzle a 3 year-old when you never bothered to support him or his brother financially for over a year now!!! And don’t even dare mentioning the lame a** alimony that wouldn’t cover one eighth of one kid’s expenses. And don’t say I sent clothes, you know the crap you sent and for whatever its worth, I sent it back, perhaps you need the money you would return them for, because I know my kids don’t need them. I thank God a million times they don’t need your gifts or your money, and I hope they never ever need them or you for that matter.
I wanted to tell you, I had to tell you that I spend a lot of time reliving the past year day by day. And in every moment I see phantoms of us reliving painful moments of hate, I realize it’s never really been me, and that it’s been you, all you. I am not denying my own share of mistakes, I admit them, and I won’t even justify them by saying they were unintended because I have sincerely apologized when I thought an apology was due, I paid my dues, one after another. My biggest mistakes however remain; choosing you, believing you, enduring you, doubting my instincts, shunning my doubts, and giving you the other cheek even when I did it knowing you’d slap me even harder… you’ve shown me the weakest version of me, and my biggest mistake was that I let you.
I’ve been thinking it through and through, trying to know where I went wrong and learn from my mistakes, but I somehow realized that it’s impossible to learn from those mistakes. I would not know which mistakes not to repeat in an argument with a loved one or a spouse because I am not sure I can ever give my heart or my name in marriage to anyone once I break free from your chains. My fear of choosing wrong or being blinded by love would forever stop me from being in a situation where I might repeat any of those mistakes.
So if that’s why you don’t want to let me go, to make sure I won’t move on and give my love to whoever would deserve and appreciate it, rest assured. Trust me, the wounds and the scars are way too much for anyone to understand, let alone heal.
How does that make you feel? How does it feel to know that you have destroyed something in me? Makes you feel good, honorable, more of a man??? I know your sick delusional ego would make it feel that way to you, and I will try to have my peace with that for I know that whoever reads those words, even if it were you reading them on the web not knowing that they are meant for you, whoever will read them will be disgusted at you and see you for the disgrace to humanity that you are.
I tried to find it in me to forgive you because it’s Ramadan and it's time for maghfera. I tried to practice forgiving, but I found myself wishing you none of it for you have done nothing to deserve it and I think that even forgiveness has to be earned.
(I know… so much for the whole Ramadan spirit I was trying to get into! That’s why anger IS a deadly sin.)
September 11, 2008
To pervy perverson…
For some reason I played it all in my head yesterday as I was dosing off and had I not been too tired to react, I would have gotten completely angry, but I ended up sleeping on that thought and waking up with a headache and an urge to throw up.
Whenever I heard stories of sexual harassment, I always thought “had it been me, I would have given my harasser a piece of my mind.” Truth is I never did! It’s disappointing to find out that I am not everything I’d like to think I am, and it makes me somehow mad at myself for being too shocked at your behavior.
Damn, I was caught off guard; I trusted you, I liked visiting and I enjoyed our chats, even the rather unfavorable ones. I thought you were skilled, well educated, sophisticated, and most importantly good mannered and had ethics; apparently I was badly mistaken and I am mad at myself for that.
I am MUCH younger than your daughter you pervert, I even perceived you as the sweet grandpa I never had!! EWWWW.
How could you –or anyone else for that matter- know of the mess my life currently is and take such advantage of it? It’s low and I find it impossible to understand, let alone accept!
You were told half of the story and you came to offer and adult’s opinion and I thought I made it clear that your advice was appreciated yet invalid. I was nice and sweet, and more importantly grateful for your kind words, little did I know!
Every time I remember our conversations and how all your remarks were dirty hints that I simply didn’t get because I am such a naïve person who still doesn’t get how people could be so twisted and sick. Arrgghhhh.
And it baffles me how you actually know my x and how it didn’t even disturb you that I might call him and that it might –just might- outrage him. Or was it him who made it sound like I was that cheap? I really don’t wanna know, I guess the fact that you know him well should have warned me, but the stupid utopian in me never assumes the worst of people.
I hate you. You disgust me, shame on you and your likes.
And I am angry at myself for not confronting you. For being too shocked to even look you in the eye and give you one of my glares. I keep remembering how I withdrew and how I tried so hard to pretend like I still didn’t catch on to your grossness and walked out promising myself I would never come back.
Now I need a new dentist because my temporary filling is decaying and I am starting to feel pain again, and the pain brings back those obnoxious memories. Uff.
July 22, 2008
Dear Doctors, I am sorry!!
Obviously, everyone I know, including myself is infuriated about the new traffic laws that seem to be more about getting money out of people rather than organizing traffic. Yes, I said it! It’s not about traffic or about making life better for the people, who are we kidding?!
If it had been for the people, isn’t there enough tax money collected (from those who are employed and cannot really find ways to hide money from tax authorities) that’s enough to make better roads and build better bridges instead of having to wait ages on some bridge because they shut a lane for maintenance!! And don’t get me started on the scumbags of traffic officers who would halt The 6th of October Bridge on a rush-hour for a lagna setting, and not to mention permanent lagna settings at places like Mounib Bridge right before Maadi exit!!
What I do not get however is why the government, the system or whoever it is in charge is so focused on getting that money out of the people that way!! I mean don’t you think traffic control authorities collect enough money through license registrations and the amount of money you throw here and there for a new car, not to mention the trouble you would go through if you have an older car, or God forbid a really older car!! And at the end of the day, we all know that once you know the right number to call, you’ll get all your tickets and violations waived!! So is it just to harass people who are wasta-less? As if raising the prices of gas was not enough!!
So to all the decision makers out there, let me point out a new source of money that I simply can’t believe you overlooked!! DOCTORS!!
It has been brought to my attention, through medical insurance proceedings that doctors, surgeons that is, do not pay taxes in any way remotely appropriate to how much they earn (sorry guys)!! It made me remember that all through my medical history (two c-sections, one ERCP, one cholecystectomy) I did not attain one single receipt from either the surgeons or the anesthesiologists! The hospital fees were paid with a receipt in return (including an additional tax other than the service and sales taxes, I guess there is a getting-sick tax); nonetheless, none of the four times had any of the doctors who took the money by hand gave in a receipt.
Back then it didn’t even come to mind since I did not have any medical insurance; however, today as I was working on my boss’s hospital receipts to be sent and redeemed from the medical insurance company he told me that he did not have a receipt from the surgeon, who by the way took 12 K! I was startled because my boss did not even have to pay the hospital; he’s a BUPA client, and the hospital his wife had the surgery in is a network member; hence, all his bills should be automatically taken care of the moment he had shown her membership ID!! Talk about Egyptian incompetence and lack of professionalism when handling international clients (by client I mean the company, not my boss and his spouse). It only took me one short phone call to London on the day of the surgery to know all the proper procedures in which the hospital refused to abide by out of being… umm, no proper word now!
So dear stupid incompetent decision makers of this country, I found a goldmine for you to ekhrebooha we to3odo 3ala tallaha!! Of course, there is always the option of using the money to make a better medical system, but who am I kidding!
And dear Mr. Tarek Nour, I found a new segment for your tax payment advertising campaign this Ramadan; you could even use the whole “afawtarak walla azzabatak” slogan plus the 3emma theme with some not so creative amendments, heck, you can even use the same dude!
Damn, I should give up on my career in administration and do some marketing/advertising; I’m good!!
P.S. Normally, I would claim all relevant copy rights to the whole idea of going after doctors, but I’m afraid I won’t find proper treatment when I get sick if I do!! However, I do not recommend that anyone would take false credit for this idea, no benefit, trust me!!
July 14, 2008
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!
July 2, 2008
To Kov…
Reading his last post, I couldn’t help but remember something I once read somewhere that suggested the following…
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!!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!
Wishing you well buddy :)
May 3, 2008
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.
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.
March 23, 2008
To My Oblivia
Around two years ago, I started an older version of this blog, that I named Organized Chaos. It was basically an outlet where I could babble about the joys of motherhood and also rant about how people keep giving me non-applicable advice, namely my in-laws.
I had problems then, but I was trying to talk myself out of dealing with them, facing them, or even feeling them. In that blog, I talked about my inability to forgive; about how tired I was from waiting for good things to happen; about how I felt my life was not going anyway like I planned; all in abstract manner, or at least that was what I thought!
A fellow blogger once told me she liked how I talked so openly about whatever crossed my mind and how she liked the way I made fun of everything. She had no idea I had that many issues, so I just told her I hid behind my alias and said the things I felt comfortable saying.
I remember I tried to let my anger and frustration out by talking about my marriage; I started a series of posts called “Diaries of an Angry Pregnant Woman”. I talked about my childhood and the years before I met him; I just couldn’t talk about him back then… probably because I was still trying to talk myself into staying in the marriage. I couldn’t just get it out in the open that I was badly hurt by him and somehow continue living with him.
I think shortly after I killed that project, I deleted my blog; I don’t remember why exactly, but I guess I was tired of not being able to channel any of my turmoil at that time. It was exactly a year ago when I deleted it. If memory serves, I deleted after I posted about my late nana; I think that was the closest I have come to talking about my personal pain.
Then I started an older version of this blog that lasted three whole months after I gave birth to my mocha. I named it My Oblivia to leave all the thoughts that haunted in my own oblivion, where I could just have them out of my real life, into the blogsphere; a place where they wouldn’t find their way back to haunt me, while on the other hand I could find them if I was ever ready to deal with them.
I deleted it because he asked me if I had a blog and that he wanted its address if I did. I lied about having a blog, and deleted it after we hung up because I hated having to lie the way he always lied to my face. This is how I punished myself for not being able to tell him the truth!!
After deleting the blog, my thoughts remained in my head depriving me of sleep and peace. I felt nostalgic to my little place that seemed to be more than just an oblivion, but a place I could somehow clear my mind… nostalgia and oblivion; two of my favorite words, two words that somehow contradict, yet made more sense together in my head.
It was where I spilled all my tears when he was playing all his sick games and emotionally manipulating me until I was drained. It was where I spent the first few hours of my 26th birthday shortly after he told me every possible hurtful word he could think of. It was the last time I had a death wish. Sad memories I know, but it was the time I finally decided to stop the abuse he subjected me to and return to who I once was; this makes up for how sad the memories are.
My blog was the way I found my way back to ME, at least one of the ways. I figured that if I missed my blog and cared about having it back more than I cared about my x, then I definitely did not need him in my life. This is why two days later, I revived my blog.
By the end of the same month, I came out. The more I wrote about my failure of a marriage, the better I felt, and the more I realized it was ok, and that it wasn’t as terrible as it felt when I kept piling the things I was unable to talk about except with a couple of people who were probably sick and tired of seeing me ache the way I did and unable to tell me to walk out because they were afraid they did not know better. Yeah, my sisters and my two best friends didn’t tell me it was time to walk out until I decided it on my own; I am grateful that way because I know it came from me.
People kept commenting and telling me the nicest and most supportive words, words I thought I would never really hear because my dear father was so afraid of the whole divorce procedure he decided to scare me! It’s ok, I know where he comes from and I know how badly it must hurt to see his big girl failing in what everyone viewed as a big achievement!!
Through my blog, I got to know some quite interesting people who didn’t know who I was, yet somehow knew me through all the things I wrote. It felt good to be heard and understood after years of me speaking to someone who never bothered listening.
I no longer had to hide from anything!! My Oblivia became who I am. The only reason I kept the name is because I wanted to always remember how I got here, and well, I am too lazy to think of something original.
I am not always in my best moods, but I am content and peaceful most of the time, which I think should be better than happy at some point. I know more hardships are meant to come my way one way or another, but I don’t care; not out of carelessness, but because I would like to believe that deep down I have found my strength, my peace, and most importantly my faith to overcome whatever awaits me. For that, I am thankful.
I am thankful for my father for doing the best he could to rise above his fears and prejudices.
I am trying to be thankful for my mother for her compassion that she hides for some reason under thick layers of insults and hurtful accusations.
I am grateful for Maat for waking up early in the morning to listen to my doubts and pat my back as she talked me out of them, although I turned out to be right after all!!!
I am grateful for my Goody for feeling for me that way she always does despite how she always says she’s apathetic. She’s not! She’s the most sympathetic person I have known, and it’s not because I know 7alaleef.
I am thankful for D, for the way she could just listen to me say nothing for almost an hour, and then tell me “I understand”; I miss her and I wish her nothing but the best, God bless her.
I am thankful for H for being with me on the phone saying all the prayers I needed to hear and making me repeat after her until peace found its way back into my heart. I try to show her that I am always here if she ever needs me; however, I don’t think I could ever pay her back.
I am thankful for G for making me laugh so hard when all I wanted was to cry. He’s in my prayers right next to my Nana.
I am thankful for B for always telling me the right words that would make me pause and think of the ways should be done… istikharas are the best :)
I am grateful for N’s beautiful email that helped me realize I wasn’t as radical as I was made to believe by him… N, you have a beautiful soul.
I am grateful for Will E’s Art Therapy recommendation; I never got the chance to see it through, but I got the chance to have a good friend.
There are more people for whom I am more than thankful. Some of them in my real life and some came from My Oblivia, but this was written to thank my blog for getting me out of oblivion to where there is light and hope of better days. Thank you My Oblivia, I wish I could promise I would never desert you, but such promises are silly, I’d rather promise that I will always be thankful.
** Did this just sound like one of those Oscar speeches?!!!!
I had problems then, but I was trying to talk myself out of dealing with them, facing them, or even feeling them. In that blog, I talked about my inability to forgive; about how tired I was from waiting for good things to happen; about how I felt my life was not going anyway like I planned; all in abstract manner, or at least that was what I thought!
A fellow blogger once told me she liked how I talked so openly about whatever crossed my mind and how she liked the way I made fun of everything. She had no idea I had that many issues, so I just told her I hid behind my alias and said the things I felt comfortable saying.
I remember I tried to let my anger and frustration out by talking about my marriage; I started a series of posts called “Diaries of an Angry Pregnant Woman”. I talked about my childhood and the years before I met him; I just couldn’t talk about him back then… probably because I was still trying to talk myself into staying in the marriage. I couldn’t just get it out in the open that I was badly hurt by him and somehow continue living with him.
I think shortly after I killed that project, I deleted my blog; I don’t remember why exactly, but I guess I was tired of not being able to channel any of my turmoil at that time. It was exactly a year ago when I deleted it. If memory serves, I deleted after I posted about my late nana; I think that was the closest I have come to talking about my personal pain.
Then I started an older version of this blog that lasted three whole months after I gave birth to my mocha. I named it My Oblivia to leave all the thoughts that haunted in my own oblivion, where I could just have them out of my real life, into the blogsphere; a place where they wouldn’t find their way back to haunt me, while on the other hand I could find them if I was ever ready to deal with them.
I deleted it because he asked me if I had a blog and that he wanted its address if I did. I lied about having a blog, and deleted it after we hung up because I hated having to lie the way he always lied to my face. This is how I punished myself for not being able to tell him the truth!!
After deleting the blog, my thoughts remained in my head depriving me of sleep and peace. I felt nostalgic to my little place that seemed to be more than just an oblivion, but a place I could somehow clear my mind… nostalgia and oblivion; two of my favorite words, two words that somehow contradict, yet made more sense together in my head.
It was where I spilled all my tears when he was playing all his sick games and emotionally manipulating me until I was drained. It was where I spent the first few hours of my 26th birthday shortly after he told me every possible hurtful word he could think of. It was the last time I had a death wish. Sad memories I know, but it was the time I finally decided to stop the abuse he subjected me to and return to who I once was; this makes up for how sad the memories are.
My blog was the way I found my way back to ME, at least one of the ways. I figured that if I missed my blog and cared about having it back more than I cared about my x, then I definitely did not need him in my life. This is why two days later, I revived my blog.
By the end of the same month, I came out. The more I wrote about my failure of a marriage, the better I felt, and the more I realized it was ok, and that it wasn’t as terrible as it felt when I kept piling the things I was unable to talk about except with a couple of people who were probably sick and tired of seeing me ache the way I did and unable to tell me to walk out because they were afraid they did not know better. Yeah, my sisters and my two best friends didn’t tell me it was time to walk out until I decided it on my own; I am grateful that way because I know it came from me.
People kept commenting and telling me the nicest and most supportive words, words I thought I would never really hear because my dear father was so afraid of the whole divorce procedure he decided to scare me! It’s ok, I know where he comes from and I know how badly it must hurt to see his big girl failing in what everyone viewed as a big achievement!!
Through my blog, I got to know some quite interesting people who didn’t know who I was, yet somehow knew me through all the things I wrote. It felt good to be heard and understood after years of me speaking to someone who never bothered listening.
I no longer had to hide from anything!! My Oblivia became who I am. The only reason I kept the name is because I wanted to always remember how I got here, and well, I am too lazy to think of something original.
I am not always in my best moods, but I am content and peaceful most of the time, which I think should be better than happy at some point. I know more hardships are meant to come my way one way or another, but I don’t care; not out of carelessness, but because I would like to believe that deep down I have found my strength, my peace, and most importantly my faith to overcome whatever awaits me. For that, I am thankful.
I am thankful for my father for doing the best he could to rise above his fears and prejudices.
I am trying to be thankful for my mother for her compassion that she hides for some reason under thick layers of insults and hurtful accusations.
I am grateful for Maat for waking up early in the morning to listen to my doubts and pat my back as she talked me out of them, although I turned out to be right after all!!!
I am grateful for my Goody for feeling for me that way she always does despite how she always says she’s apathetic. She’s not! She’s the most sympathetic person I have known, and it’s not because I know 7alaleef.
I am thankful for D, for the way she could just listen to me say nothing for almost an hour, and then tell me “I understand”; I miss her and I wish her nothing but the best, God bless her.
I am thankful for H for being with me on the phone saying all the prayers I needed to hear and making me repeat after her until peace found its way back into my heart. I try to show her that I am always here if she ever needs me; however, I don’t think I could ever pay her back.
I am thankful for G for making me laugh so hard when all I wanted was to cry. He’s in my prayers right next to my Nana.
I am thankful for B for always telling me the right words that would make me pause and think of the ways should be done… istikharas are the best :)
I am grateful for N’s beautiful email that helped me realize I wasn’t as radical as I was made to believe by him… N, you have a beautiful soul.
I am grateful for Will E’s Art Therapy recommendation; I never got the chance to see it through, but I got the chance to have a good friend.
There are more people for whom I am more than thankful. Some of them in my real life and some came from My Oblivia, but this was written to thank my blog for getting me out of oblivion to where there is light and hope of better days. Thank you My Oblivia, I wish I could promise I would never desert you, but such promises are silly, I’d rather promise that I will always be thankful.
** Did this just sound like one of those Oscar speeches?!!!!
March 15, 2008
To my best childhood memory
March 15th marks a sad sad memory in my calendar. It’s the day she passed away, my nana (may she RIP).
I remember that day very clearly starting from the moment my uncle K walked in the apartment, my mom’s loud voice which practically woke me up... walking out of my room, the moment I saw K all collapsed on the couch, I knew it. I posted all about that day in my old blog, in painful details.
What I never said in that post is how angry I was at myself after she died! I never said it because until lately, I had not recognized this anger, probably because I had more stuff to be angry about.
I was angry at myself for not taking enough time to sit with her in the hospital instead of stealing few minutes on my way back home from college to see her… I should have never let my fear of hospitals keep me away from her.
I was angry at myself for not sitting by her side day in and day out begging for her to get well and be there to make me feel as loved as she always did… I should have never let my fear of seeing the strongest person I have ever known collapsing that way cripple me from being by her side.
I was angry at myself for not crying when K held me in his arms saying “khalas, maba2ash feeh neena”… I should have let my tears flow rivers because I knew I would miss her, even when I believed death was her relief from the pain of being so helpless.
I was angry at myself for going to college the next day and doing my presentation, instead of going with every one else to funeral… I should have allowed myself to grief then, instead of telling myself that she will always be there in my heart, not her grave.
I was angry at myself for not crying as hard as I needed until almost a year had passed… I make up for that by crying so hard every time I realize how much I miss her.
Oh my God, every time I think of her, my eyes are filled with tears, I feel that huge lump in my throat, my nose starts running, and I start trembling. Someone told me that our tears over our dead loved ones cause them discomfort. I don’t know that for sure but I make up for my inability to control my tears by praying for her as much as I can and wishing her the best one can get; prayers do help, so I have been told, and so I believe.
Once I start relaxing, I smile and think of her, and start reminiscing… her words… her wits… her slightly tanned skin… her always red cheeks… her beautiful white hair that she used to hide her face with, as an attempt to play with me when I was little… her warm hug that used to make me as safe and protected as I have never felt… her rice pudding… her cooking… how she used to teach me how to roll vine leaves, to work on ka7k el 3eed with that thing… how she’d check if I had washed the glass of water and before filling it up and giving to her… how she’d tell me that rhyming prayer, I seem to fail to remember… all the pet names she used to call me with…and more and more beautiful memories that make my heart feel warm despite the pain of missing her.
Thank you Maat for writing this post about her when I first mentioned on my old blog that I miss her, thanks for dedicating it to me; it inspired me to remember the good things and it reminded me of things I had almost forgotten.
So that’s why March sucks!! That’s why it’s wrong to think Moher’s Day when my own mother figure died 6 days ahead of it!!
And also, my last dream of her was in March 2006, right after my ERCP. It was a scary dream with a golden scorpion (!!!) trying to bite me and my baby sister; she was the one who warned me soon enough to jump and push it away, and the one who told me not to worry as I freaked out…
I miss having her in my dreams; I miss the peace I felt waking up giggling… I hope I would dream of her this month, perhaps I can forgive March then.
I remember that day very clearly starting from the moment my uncle K walked in the apartment, my mom’s loud voice which practically woke me up... walking out of my room, the moment I saw K all collapsed on the couch, I knew it. I posted all about that day in my old blog, in painful details.
What I never said in that post is how angry I was at myself after she died! I never said it because until lately, I had not recognized this anger, probably because I had more stuff to be angry about.
I was angry at myself for not taking enough time to sit with her in the hospital instead of stealing few minutes on my way back home from college to see her… I should have never let my fear of hospitals keep me away from her.
I was angry at myself for not sitting by her side day in and day out begging for her to get well and be there to make me feel as loved as she always did… I should have never let my fear of seeing the strongest person I have ever known collapsing that way cripple me from being by her side.
I was angry at myself for not crying when K held me in his arms saying “khalas, maba2ash feeh neena”… I should have let my tears flow rivers because I knew I would miss her, even when I believed death was her relief from the pain of being so helpless.
I was angry at myself for going to college the next day and doing my presentation, instead of going with every one else to funeral… I should have allowed myself to grief then, instead of telling myself that she will always be there in my heart, not her grave.
I was angry at myself for not crying as hard as I needed until almost a year had passed… I make up for that by crying so hard every time I realize how much I miss her.
Oh my God, every time I think of her, my eyes are filled with tears, I feel that huge lump in my throat, my nose starts running, and I start trembling. Someone told me that our tears over our dead loved ones cause them discomfort. I don’t know that for sure but I make up for my inability to control my tears by praying for her as much as I can and wishing her the best one can get; prayers do help, so I have been told, and so I believe.
Once I start relaxing, I smile and think of her, and start reminiscing… her words… her wits… her slightly tanned skin… her always red cheeks… her beautiful white hair that she used to hide her face with, as an attempt to play with me when I was little… her warm hug that used to make me as safe and protected as I have never felt… her rice pudding… her cooking… how she used to teach me how to roll vine leaves, to work on ka7k el 3eed with that thing… how she’d check if I had washed the glass of water and before filling it up and giving to her… how she’d tell me that rhyming prayer, I seem to fail to remember… all the pet names she used to call me with…and more and more beautiful memories that make my heart feel warm despite the pain of missing her.
Thank you Maat for writing this post about her when I first mentioned on my old blog that I miss her, thanks for dedicating it to me; it inspired me to remember the good things and it reminded me of things I had almost forgotten.
So that’s why March sucks!! That’s why it’s wrong to think Moher’s Day when my own mother figure died 6 days ahead of it!!
And also, my last dream of her was in March 2006, right after my ERCP. It was a scary dream with a golden scorpion (!!!) trying to bite me and my baby sister; she was the one who warned me soon enough to jump and push it away, and the one who told me not to worry as I freaked out…
I miss having her in my dreams; I miss the peace I felt waking up giggling… I hope I would dream of her this month, perhaps I can forgive March then.
February 28, 2008
My Dear Uncle O…
Every time I think of Uncle O, I feel like writing about him. Only I promised myself I would only write about him when I am in a good mood, because this man’s best quality was putting smiles on people’s faces, and this is how I like to remember him, with a smile.
Uncle O used to work with my dad as his deputy in the last company my dad worked before he started his own business. I didn’t know him back then; I barely went to my dad’s office, which is ironic since I moved in the same street in zamalek a couple of years ago!
Anyways, a couple of years after my dad started his business, he asked Uncle O to join, and he did. I remember very clearly the first time I met him; my mom, my sisters, and I were stopping by my dad’s office to go have dinner together and he was just leaving, and he stopped and greeted us, and told my baby sister he loved looking at her because she looked exactly like his daughter. He said it so casually and like he had known us for ages.
We got to know him on a family level; his wife made friends with my mom, his oldest son was my sister’s age, his daughter was my baby sister’s age, and his youngest boy was the cutest thing ever. Funny thing, his daughter and my sister did look a lot like each other!! I think it was mostly the hair.
I used to stop by my dad’s office every day on my way back from school, and then college, just to say hi and to have my daily dose of delightful Uncle O. back then, my relationship with my dad was borderline hatred since it was the crazy teenage years and well, mom used him as a scary figure; so Uncle O was the one who would tell me how to approach my dad without pushing the wrong buttons and he would always assure me that my dad had nothing against me, as a matter of fact, he was proud of me, only wouldn’t show it because he wouldn’t want to spoil me.
Uncle O was the best! He’s been there through our terrible car accident; he was the first one to arrive at the scene, and seeing him, I knew we would be ok! He was there to drive me to my physics class when no one was available, and we would talk about almost everything during the car ride! He was there when my dad fought with me over the phone for joining Faculty of Arts instead of Business, and talked me into not making the fight bigger when it didn’t even matter to me which line of studies to choose. He was there to teach me how to park my car, and he was there the day I went to take the driving test since my dad had a strict no-wasta-for-driving-license policy.
He was there almost all the times I needed someone to give me good advice. And he had the quality of making people listen. And it wasn’t just me! It was everyone in the company; it was also my sisters, and even mama. She would call him up and ask him to talk some sense into me when I am acting all “crazy”! Everyone just listened to him; he could motivate people with the most encouraging smile ever; people at work would jump through hoops to not disappoint him. Truth be told, he was a better manager than my dad, and that is why my dad trusted him the most. When my dad wrote a will, he made him in charge of the business, and before that, he was one of two who had a power of attorney covering everything to my father’s name.
He left the company when he was offered a better opportunity with a multinational in a different field. He said he hated to leave, but promised he’d always be there. And he kept that promise, and he remained a family friend ever since.
I wanted him to be one of the witnesses when I got married, only my dad said it had to me a blood relative from my side (my father’s brother) and another from the X’s side (his uncle). If it were up to me to insist, it would have definitely been Uncle O from my side; he has always been more of an uncle to me than my real uncle.
Five years ago, Uncle O had a terrible car accident on his way back from El Ein El sokhna. All I really know about the accident was that his head was badly injured and that he was in a comma in the hospital. I went to the hospital the same night with my mom and my x. Of course I couldn’t see him, I sat there in the visitors area trying to remain calm; I don’t do hysteric crying in public anyways, but I broke down and cried the moment I got into my car.
When he woke up, he couldn’t remember a lot of things and some of his motor functions were affected due to the head trauma. He knew his name, he recognized his family and friends; he just didn’t remember details of events, which was ok really, but not to him I guess!
He never really recovered. I don’t know the medical description of his case; all I know is that he was never the same; although he regained most of his motor functions, he had some serious depression caused by the injury, some brain chemicals were disturbed in the process. I wish I knew more, or not.
I visited him a few months after I gave birth to my first baby. I wanted him to see my son, and I wanted to see him because I missed him so very much. He got out, said hi, didn’t even sit down; just held my son so tight and kissed him on the forehead, and gave him back to me wishing the two of us the best, and then just excused himself back to his room.
I barely held the tears as his wife told me he doesn’t even get out of his room to meet his own brothers, and that he only did it because I am so dear to him. I left not wanting to see him again because it broke my heart to see him that way. I am very bad at handling those situations, terrible actually. I am having tears in my eyes as I am remembering that day; I miss him and I wish I could just go and have one of our long hours of talking about almost everything.
Uncle O’s accident shook me pretty hard. I could never grasp that something like that would happen to a great person like him. I know el mo2men mossab, but it has always been beyond me to be ok with bad things happening to good people, to people I love in particular.
Uncle O, I miss you so much, but I always remember you with a smile and wish you the best. I am sorry I no longer visit; it’s just wrong to visit and cry the way I know I would.
Uncle O used to work with my dad as his deputy in the last company my dad worked before he started his own business. I didn’t know him back then; I barely went to my dad’s office, which is ironic since I moved in the same street in zamalek a couple of years ago!
Anyways, a couple of years after my dad started his business, he asked Uncle O to join, and he did. I remember very clearly the first time I met him; my mom, my sisters, and I were stopping by my dad’s office to go have dinner together and he was just leaving, and he stopped and greeted us, and told my baby sister he loved looking at her because she looked exactly like his daughter. He said it so casually and like he had known us for ages.
We got to know him on a family level; his wife made friends with my mom, his oldest son was my sister’s age, his daughter was my baby sister’s age, and his youngest boy was the cutest thing ever. Funny thing, his daughter and my sister did look a lot like each other!! I think it was mostly the hair.
I used to stop by my dad’s office every day on my way back from school, and then college, just to say hi and to have my daily dose of delightful Uncle O. back then, my relationship with my dad was borderline hatred since it was the crazy teenage years and well, mom used him as a scary figure; so Uncle O was the one who would tell me how to approach my dad without pushing the wrong buttons and he would always assure me that my dad had nothing against me, as a matter of fact, he was proud of me, only wouldn’t show it because he wouldn’t want to spoil me.
Uncle O was the best! He’s been there through our terrible car accident; he was the first one to arrive at the scene, and seeing him, I knew we would be ok! He was there to drive me to my physics class when no one was available, and we would talk about almost everything during the car ride! He was there when my dad fought with me over the phone for joining Faculty of Arts instead of Business, and talked me into not making the fight bigger when it didn’t even matter to me which line of studies to choose. He was there to teach me how to park my car, and he was there the day I went to take the driving test since my dad had a strict no-wasta-for-driving-license policy.
He was there almost all the times I needed someone to give me good advice. And he had the quality of making people listen. And it wasn’t just me! It was everyone in the company; it was also my sisters, and even mama. She would call him up and ask him to talk some sense into me when I am acting all “crazy”! Everyone just listened to him; he could motivate people with the most encouraging smile ever; people at work would jump through hoops to not disappoint him. Truth be told, he was a better manager than my dad, and that is why my dad trusted him the most. When my dad wrote a will, he made him in charge of the business, and before that, he was one of two who had a power of attorney covering everything to my father’s name.
He left the company when he was offered a better opportunity with a multinational in a different field. He said he hated to leave, but promised he’d always be there. And he kept that promise, and he remained a family friend ever since.
I wanted him to be one of the witnesses when I got married, only my dad said it had to me a blood relative from my side (my father’s brother) and another from the X’s side (his uncle). If it were up to me to insist, it would have definitely been Uncle O from my side; he has always been more of an uncle to me than my real uncle.
Five years ago, Uncle O had a terrible car accident on his way back from El Ein El sokhna. All I really know about the accident was that his head was badly injured and that he was in a comma in the hospital. I went to the hospital the same night with my mom and my x. Of course I couldn’t see him, I sat there in the visitors area trying to remain calm; I don’t do hysteric crying in public anyways, but I broke down and cried the moment I got into my car.
When he woke up, he couldn’t remember a lot of things and some of his motor functions were affected due to the head trauma. He knew his name, he recognized his family and friends; he just didn’t remember details of events, which was ok really, but not to him I guess!
He never really recovered. I don’t know the medical description of his case; all I know is that he was never the same; although he regained most of his motor functions, he had some serious depression caused by the injury, some brain chemicals were disturbed in the process. I wish I knew more, or not.
I visited him a few months after I gave birth to my first baby. I wanted him to see my son, and I wanted to see him because I missed him so very much. He got out, said hi, didn’t even sit down; just held my son so tight and kissed him on the forehead, and gave him back to me wishing the two of us the best, and then just excused himself back to his room.
I barely held the tears as his wife told me he doesn’t even get out of his room to meet his own brothers, and that he only did it because I am so dear to him. I left not wanting to see him again because it broke my heart to see him that way. I am very bad at handling those situations, terrible actually. I am having tears in my eyes as I am remembering that day; I miss him and I wish I could just go and have one of our long hours of talking about almost everything.
Uncle O’s accident shook me pretty hard. I could never grasp that something like that would happen to a great person like him. I know el mo2men mossab, but it has always been beyond me to be ok with bad things happening to good people, to people I love in particular.
Uncle O, I miss you so much, but I always remember you with a smile and wish you the best. I am sorry I no longer visit; it’s just wrong to visit and cry the way I know I would.
January 23, 2008
Dear Friend,
My father and your mother were friends since college, and their friendship extended to a family level. We traveled together more than once; we were practically family, and I really really liked your family very much, especially your mom; she will always be the mother I never had.
As adolescents, you were a bit of my idol; I always thought you were cool, stylish and had a bright presence that I think I faded out in the background every time we were together. Sometimes I envied you for your sense of humor that could win people over no matter how insensitive it could be. After all, you are Libra; Librans have that charm that make them screw up and not even have to apologize… they just smile, and for some reason they are forgiven. God knows I hate all Librans for that!
As I became a teenager, for some reason, I started disliking you! I have a few reasons but they all seem stupid and dull now, so I would rather not discuss them. Nonetheless, I could never be rude or mean to you because you just don’t allow people to be that way to you. Damn Libra!
What happened???? Well, I kinda know!!!
We both fell for the guys of our dreams. We lived the romantic dream to the fullest; we married the guys we loved. Everyone in our circle of family and friends seemed to be happy for us… how little did we all know! Enough dwelling on that, it turns my stomach!
Well, I know how mine turned out to be; a liar and a cheater with a disturbing twist of delusion and insanity! He did change a lot in me when I was with him; thank God I am considerably over the damage he caused. I am quite aware of the scars, but I would like to think my spirit is still in tact.
What on earth did he do to you?? Last time I saw you, you were pale beyond belief; and it’s not because of your deteriorating health condition, which by the way I think has to do with your extremely low morale. You seemed broken in so many ways it made me wanna tell you a lot of things; I just didn’t think we were ever close enough for me to talk, and I was afraid you’d get hurt if those words came from me.
I would never tell you to walk out on your marriage; I know it is not an easy decision, I know! And perhaps he’s tolerable in ways I wouldn’t understand, perhaps he’s a good father to your children, and perhaps he even has his moments with you. I understand he doesn’t have to be the jerk mine turned out to be, and I honestly wish he isn’t, because you deserve happiness girl.
But please, don’t ever let him kill your spirit or make you feel as miserable the way you looked last time. I know some men can diminish your self worth, but I think it’s basically because they have low self worth themselves. When he’s being obnoxious, remember that you never allowed people to treat you that way without even having to show attitude; that was your gift, use it. And don’t let anyone get under your skin… you are funny, young, beautiful, a good mother and have a kind heart… that’s a lot of things people do not have in one package, if he doesn’t appreciate it enough to acknowledge it, then at least you should!
I can’t promise you things will get better, for I don’t know. Here is what I can promise you: you are loved. By every one of us who knows you, your family, my family, your friends, our mutual friends, and myself.
I wish I could call you up and tell you all that, but I am afraid it could make you cry, I am afraid you would feel the way I do when people call me up and say “are you sure you’re ok”. This phrase makes me realize something must be terribly wrong for people to keep asking and then I start feeling “not ok”.
God bless you and your beautiful kids.
As adolescents, you were a bit of my idol; I always thought you were cool, stylish and had a bright presence that I think I faded out in the background every time we were together. Sometimes I envied you for your sense of humor that could win people over no matter how insensitive it could be. After all, you are Libra; Librans have that charm that make them screw up and not even have to apologize… they just smile, and for some reason they are forgiven. God knows I hate all Librans for that!
As I became a teenager, for some reason, I started disliking you! I have a few reasons but they all seem stupid and dull now, so I would rather not discuss them. Nonetheless, I could never be rude or mean to you because you just don’t allow people to be that way to you. Damn Libra!
What happened???? Well, I kinda know!!!
We both fell for the guys of our dreams. We lived the romantic dream to the fullest; we married the guys we loved. Everyone in our circle of family and friends seemed to be happy for us… how little did we all know! Enough dwelling on that, it turns my stomach!
Well, I know how mine turned out to be; a liar and a cheater with a disturbing twist of delusion and insanity! He did change a lot in me when I was with him; thank God I am considerably over the damage he caused. I am quite aware of the scars, but I would like to think my spirit is still in tact.
What on earth did he do to you?? Last time I saw you, you were pale beyond belief; and it’s not because of your deteriorating health condition, which by the way I think has to do with your extremely low morale. You seemed broken in so many ways it made me wanna tell you a lot of things; I just didn’t think we were ever close enough for me to talk, and I was afraid you’d get hurt if those words came from me.
I would never tell you to walk out on your marriage; I know it is not an easy decision, I know! And perhaps he’s tolerable in ways I wouldn’t understand, perhaps he’s a good father to your children, and perhaps he even has his moments with you. I understand he doesn’t have to be the jerk mine turned out to be, and I honestly wish he isn’t, because you deserve happiness girl.
But please, don’t ever let him kill your spirit or make you feel as miserable the way you looked last time. I know some men can diminish your self worth, but I think it’s basically because they have low self worth themselves. When he’s being obnoxious, remember that you never allowed people to treat you that way without even having to show attitude; that was your gift, use it. And don’t let anyone get under your skin… you are funny, young, beautiful, a good mother and have a kind heart… that’s a lot of things people do not have in one package, if he doesn’t appreciate it enough to acknowledge it, then at least you should!
I can’t promise you things will get better, for I don’t know. Here is what I can promise you: you are loved. By every one of us who knows you, your family, my family, your friends, our mutual friends, and myself.
I wish I could call you up and tell you all that, but I am afraid it could make you cry, I am afraid you would feel the way I do when people call me up and say “are you sure you’re ok”. This phrase makes me realize something must be terribly wrong for people to keep asking and then I start feeling “not ok”.
God bless you and your beautiful kids.
January 20, 2008
Out with the bad mood, and In with the positive attitude
I realized I let my mood slide dramatically this weekend over a couple of stupid mistakes and wrong reactions. I know I will never really be able to talk about them, and I know they will piss me off for a while, but I will find my way around them eventually; so no need to ruin other people’s moods in the process.
H, sorry for being that absent minded on Friday, that was just wrong… you called me to go out to make me feel better, I am forever grateful. THANK YOU for the 50% discount you got me, I know my reaction over the phone was like a damp piece of cloth, but I promise to do the whole hug-and-jump dance when I see you :) 50% off, YEEEEY
D, thank you very much for talking to me yesterday… thank you for explaining things I was too tired to figure out for myself…Thanks for being the one and only person I can still spill my guts to without worrying about being misunderstood, and thank for knowing how to handle me…God knows how much I miss you, best friend :)
B, thank you very much for reminding me of the important things one always needs to remember, instead of making me tell more details…and thanks a lot for doing it in the nicest way possible :)
All my friends who worried about me and tried to help, THANK YOU… I so appreciate it all, and it does make a difference when you say those nice things to me, I actually happen to believe them!!!
:)
H, sorry for being that absent minded on Friday, that was just wrong… you called me to go out to make me feel better, I am forever grateful. THANK YOU for the 50% discount you got me, I know my reaction over the phone was like a damp piece of cloth, but I promise to do the whole hug-and-jump dance when I see you :) 50% off, YEEEEY
D, thank you very much for talking to me yesterday… thank you for explaining things I was too tired to figure out for myself…Thanks for being the one and only person I can still spill my guts to without worrying about being misunderstood, and thank for knowing how to handle me…God knows how much I miss you, best friend :)
B, thank you very much for reminding me of the important things one always needs to remember, instead of making me tell more details…and thanks a lot for doing it in the nicest way possible :)
All my friends who worried about me and tried to help, THANK YOU… I so appreciate it all, and it does make a difference when you say those nice things to me, I actually happen to believe them!!!
:)
Don’t…
Don’t nod your head when I ask for help, unless you really plan to help
Don’t help if by helping, you think you're entitled to judging me or giving me unwelcomed advice
Don’t make me feel like my request for help was too much; if you won’t help, just say so, gracefully please; it already took me forever to consider whether I should ask for that help or not
Don’t give me attitude and say you have your own load of shit, and then expect me to control my attitude; you know the shit loads I’m sinking under, wanna trade??
Don’t piss the crap out of me, then come and talk to me like nothing had happened, or tell me I should be more ‘forgiving’ because it’s not about that
Don’t apologize; God knows where I stand on apologies, I am sick and tired of hearing them
Don’t rant randomly, you have no idea how sensitive I am these days; I am most likely to take each and every word the wrong way, and God knows I must have done that a million times already
Don’t give me the are-you-ok treatment, or the I-know-you’re-broken treatment; I am not ok, but I am not broken
Don’t give me the you-should-be-doing-fine-already treatment either; if it’s to motivate me to stand on my feet and move on, it’s not working. Just let me take my time and try to bear up with me if you can’t help
Don’t judge me and don’t make up your own expectations of how I should act or behave; for your information, I torture myself over this more than enough, you just have no idea
Don’t smother me with questions and/or suggestions, I need my space even when I know that my status as a mother doesn’t leave room for much of it, but I DO need it, I promise
Finally, PLEASE don’t take my crankiness and my irritability the wrong way, I wish I could smile and pretend nothing is wrong like I usually do, but this is the only time I let my troubled feelings surface… Nonetheless, I love you, all of you… just lately, I haven’t been able to feel your love or support, and I kinda feel unwelcomed… I wish I had other options, but right now I don’t, and this is making me miserable in so many ways…
Don’t help if by helping, you think you're entitled to judging me or giving me unwelcomed advice
Don’t make me feel like my request for help was too much; if you won’t help, just say so, gracefully please; it already took me forever to consider whether I should ask for that help or not
Don’t give me attitude and say you have your own load of shit, and then expect me to control my attitude; you know the shit loads I’m sinking under, wanna trade??
Don’t piss the crap out of me, then come and talk to me like nothing had happened, or tell me I should be more ‘forgiving’ because it’s not about that
Don’t apologize; God knows where I stand on apologies, I am sick and tired of hearing them
Don’t rant randomly, you have no idea how sensitive I am these days; I am most likely to take each and every word the wrong way, and God knows I must have done that a million times already
Don’t give me the are-you-ok treatment, or the I-know-you’re-broken treatment; I am not ok, but I am not broken
Don’t give me the you-should-be-doing-fine-already treatment either; if it’s to motivate me to stand on my feet and move on, it’s not working. Just let me take my time and try to bear up with me if you can’t help
Don’t judge me and don’t make up your own expectations of how I should act or behave; for your information, I torture myself over this more than enough, you just have no idea
Don’t smother me with questions and/or suggestions, I need my space even when I know that my status as a mother doesn’t leave room for much of it, but I DO need it, I promise
Finally, PLEASE don’t take my crankiness and my irritability the wrong way, I wish I could smile and pretend nothing is wrong like I usually do, but this is the only time I let my troubled feelings surface… Nonetheless, I love you, all of you… just lately, I haven’t been able to feel your love or support, and I kinda feel unwelcomed… I wish I had other options, but right now I don’t, and this is making me miserable in so many ways…
January 8, 2008
Nostalgic quotes… The things people told me… part two
Through college years…
“you do everything way to much; you think too much and you care too much, you have to take it easy a bit before it does some serious damage to your brain”
M… I was barely 17, but I think you figured me out before long before I did, which is strange cause all you ever saw about me was bright sunshine!
“stop thinking; life is more fun when you stop analyzing the things that bother you”
S… I tried! I actually did for a while and it was fun like you said, but you know better… if not analyzing bad things stops them from happening, bad things would have never happened to u… I wish your problems end.
“did you hear what the doctor said I had?? Will you tell me the truth… by the way, I never meant to be mean to you, I really really love you, I just don’t know how to be good to those I love”
O… I specifically didn’t want to know what the doctor said because I would have never been able to lie to you, yet I couldn’t bear to tell you the truth… FYI, I forgave you for making my childhood hell long before that day… now when I think of you, I smile and wish you the best :)
“matso2eesh zay el banat, soo2y 3edel”
K… etnayel, ana basoo2 a7san mennak… ok, you’re a good driver, and you taught me how to stir the wheel like a guy, thanks :D
“you’ll grow up one day to know how much your dad loves and appreciates you; this is his own way of hiding his mushiness, being too strict and tough!”
Uncle O, thank you for telling me that… I didn’t believe it much then, but it made sense later… I wish you were still there, could have used your support… God bless you.
“ed7aky ba2a, mesh kol ma2ool nokta tekbeseeny… ed7aky ladrabek”
F… you did hit me, or at least you almost strangled me with the seatbelt while you tried to tickle me, and you wouldn’t stop until I almost poked your eye… I miss you, you did make me laugh despite the idiotic jokes, and now every time I am told a joke, I think of you and smile :)
“you’re a good friend, you really are”
F… now you know that I wasn’t that much of a good friend to you… I am sorry I let you down, but it was either you or M, and she needed me more!
“one day, when you’re in love, you’ll know why lovers make one another miserable… and you’ll know why it’s hard to just let him go and move on”
M… I always understood why it was hard to let him go, what I never got was why you let yourself fall for him in the first place… but who am I to judge you!
“ok, this one likes you… but I don’t like him much”
N… I married him!! You were right!! But then again, he was right about you!! and by the way, I did live up to my ethics and left him when turned into an obnoxious jerk.
“watch out, he’s the type who would say whatever lies to keep you” followed by “you’re so lucky someone loves you that much that he’d do anything to make you stay”
N… no wonder you had a complicated love life… and seriously, etfadaleeh, you two think a lot like each other!! He’s single now!
“N is right about him you know, despite how crazy and twisted she is… we talked about you and him, and we both came up with the conclusion that you’re too good for him and you can do much better! We Kaman ana mesh 3agebny the way you do everything he says, it’s like it’s a different you… you were never obedient or submissive, but you never argue with him… this is not good, I don’t think he deserves that effort you do to please him… loves you or not, I don’t like him…ok, I’ll shut up now before you stop listening”
D… why on earth did I not listen to you; I think it had to do with you agreeing with N!!! Idiot, idiot, idiot... that’s who I was around him; a complete idiot.
“when I last saw you, I thought you were on the right track, all ready to be a fine young woman… it never occurred to me that you would lose your way!! You deserve better than someone whom his family does not accept you. do you know who your father is? Do you have a clue the respect people have for you just because you’re his daughter, how can you throw that away? Don’t tell me you love him, you will love someone else and then you will change your mind about it, you’re almost 20. Leave him now before it gets more complicated”
M… you have no idea how much I cried that day because of what you said. You almost got through to me! I wish you did, now, I wish I never ever see you or run into you.
“you do everything way to much; you think too much and you care too much, you have to take it easy a bit before it does some serious damage to your brain”
M… I was barely 17, but I think you figured me out before long before I did, which is strange cause all you ever saw about me was bright sunshine!
“stop thinking; life is more fun when you stop analyzing the things that bother you”
S… I tried! I actually did for a while and it was fun like you said, but you know better… if not analyzing bad things stops them from happening, bad things would have never happened to u… I wish your problems end.
“did you hear what the doctor said I had?? Will you tell me the truth… by the way, I never meant to be mean to you, I really really love you, I just don’t know how to be good to those I love”
O… I specifically didn’t want to know what the doctor said because I would have never been able to lie to you, yet I couldn’t bear to tell you the truth… FYI, I forgave you for making my childhood hell long before that day… now when I think of you, I smile and wish you the best :)
“matso2eesh zay el banat, soo2y 3edel”
K… etnayel, ana basoo2 a7san mennak… ok, you’re a good driver, and you taught me how to stir the wheel like a guy, thanks :D
“you’ll grow up one day to know how much your dad loves and appreciates you; this is his own way of hiding his mushiness, being too strict and tough!”
Uncle O, thank you for telling me that… I didn’t believe it much then, but it made sense later… I wish you were still there, could have used your support… God bless you.
“ed7aky ba2a, mesh kol ma2ool nokta tekbeseeny… ed7aky ladrabek”
F… you did hit me, or at least you almost strangled me with the seatbelt while you tried to tickle me, and you wouldn’t stop until I almost poked your eye… I miss you, you did make me laugh despite the idiotic jokes, and now every time I am told a joke, I think of you and smile :)
“you’re a good friend, you really are”
F… now you know that I wasn’t that much of a good friend to you… I am sorry I let you down, but it was either you or M, and she needed me more!
“one day, when you’re in love, you’ll know why lovers make one another miserable… and you’ll know why it’s hard to just let him go and move on”
M… I always understood why it was hard to let him go, what I never got was why you let yourself fall for him in the first place… but who am I to judge you!
“ok, this one likes you… but I don’t like him much”
N… I married him!! You were right!! But then again, he was right about you!! and by the way, I did live up to my ethics and left him when turned into an obnoxious jerk.
“watch out, he’s the type who would say whatever lies to keep you” followed by “you’re so lucky someone loves you that much that he’d do anything to make you stay”
N… no wonder you had a complicated love life… and seriously, etfadaleeh, you two think a lot like each other!! He’s single now!
“N is right about him you know, despite how crazy and twisted she is… we talked about you and him, and we both came up with the conclusion that you’re too good for him and you can do much better! We Kaman ana mesh 3agebny the way you do everything he says, it’s like it’s a different you… you were never obedient or submissive, but you never argue with him… this is not good, I don’t think he deserves that effort you do to please him… loves you or not, I don’t like him…ok, I’ll shut up now before you stop listening”
D… why on earth did I not listen to you; I think it had to do with you agreeing with N!!! Idiot, idiot, idiot... that’s who I was around him; a complete idiot.
“when I last saw you, I thought you were on the right track, all ready to be a fine young woman… it never occurred to me that you would lose your way!! You deserve better than someone whom his family does not accept you. do you know who your father is? Do you have a clue the respect people have for you just because you’re his daughter, how can you throw that away? Don’t tell me you love him, you will love someone else and then you will change your mind about it, you’re almost 20. Leave him now before it gets more complicated”
M… you have no idea how much I cried that day because of what you said. You almost got through to me! I wish you did, now, I wish I never ever see you or run into you.
November 22, 2007
Something I had to do!
Dear Customer Care Agent,
Further to our last communication, kindly be informed of the following:
I know that every time you see my name on your mail box, or hear my voice over the phone you wish you could have taken the day off, I know.
I even know that you may find my writing style in most of my emails obnoxious and offensive, and I know you sense the attitude and hostility in my tone over the phone as I go on explaining my point of view over and over and yet over again.
Nonetheless, please understand…
That if it were up to me, I would have chosen a different organization to provide me with this kind of service, and spared you the trouble,
That if it were up to me, I would have personally called the idiot who developed your organization’s lame @$$ system and gave him a piece of my mind,
Moreover, kindly be advised that…
I understand that you follow a system that you cannot ignore just to please me,
I understand that you cannot improve the service your organization provides all by your self,
I understand what it’s like to be in your shoes and have that much emails claiming to be urgent that you have to reply to asap but simply do not have the time to because people keep calling you in asking when you shall answer their emails! I’ve been there…
Accordingly, do not hate me or curse at me beneath your teeth as I go on and on saying how unprofessional and inappropriate the service your organization provides is; it’s not personal, and if you ever happen to meet me in person, you’ll know I am a much nicer person.
Kindly accept my sincere apology and acknowledgement for what you do.
Sincerely yours,
A pissed off client.
Further to our last communication, kindly be informed of the following:
I know that every time you see my name on your mail box, or hear my voice over the phone you wish you could have taken the day off, I know.
I even know that you may find my writing style in most of my emails obnoxious and offensive, and I know you sense the attitude and hostility in my tone over the phone as I go on explaining my point of view over and over and yet over again.
Nonetheless, please understand…
That if it were up to me, I would have chosen a different organization to provide me with this kind of service, and spared you the trouble,
That if it were up to me, I would have personally called the idiot who developed your organization’s lame @$$ system and gave him a piece of my mind,
Moreover, kindly be advised that…
I understand that you follow a system that you cannot ignore just to please me,
I understand that you cannot improve the service your organization provides all by your self,
I understand what it’s like to be in your shoes and have that much emails claiming to be urgent that you have to reply to asap but simply do not have the time to because people keep calling you in asking when you shall answer their emails! I’ve been there…
Accordingly, do not hate me or curse at me beneath your teeth as I go on and on saying how unprofessional and inappropriate the service your organization provides is; it’s not personal, and if you ever happen to meet me in person, you’ll know I am a much nicer person.
Kindly accept my sincere apology and acknowledgement for what you do.
Sincerely yours,
A pissed off client.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
