Trouble in mind…*

Trouble in mind, I'm blue...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Homeless…

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

I am homeless.

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

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

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

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

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

I think this sums it up!

I bought my beautiful red laptop almost two years ago. I call it DelLayla (because it’s Dell, and because I wanted to have a daughter and name her Layla – and I am not having anymore kids khalas). DelLayla is around a year younger than Mocha, she has a scratch on the mouse left button and the letter ‘A’ and it hurts my eyes every time I see them. I thought of selling her and getting a new one, but when I checked the ones available online, I didn’t find one exactly like her, so I promised to keep her until she’s obsolete… oh, and she still has some time, I made her long lasting.

Less than two months after I got myself a new phone for my own birthday, Beem bruised its speaker. A couple of weeks ago, I slipped it inside my purse loosely inserted in its pouch and my keys scratched a part of its screen. Every time I look at my cute red E71, I can’t help but feel the urge to either fix it, or get a new one! Ironically, I only want one exactly similar to it!!

Since the mirror thing, and after enough sanay3eya have tampered with my car during the past week, I can’t stop thinking about selling it and getting a new one. I am not big on the color, but I want something as convenient and within the same price range, only the upgrade of the same model doesn’t attract me the least bit!! I’d go for the older model if I find it in a different color!

It’s exactly the same with my life! It has too many bruises all over, and I constantly want to change it, but I can’t seem to find a different one that suits me! This life is MINE, with all its sad drama and its inconveniences, it still holds my memories, the good ones and the bad ones that shaped me… it holds my kids, who whether I like it or not, remain the one thing that keeps me together even when I no longer have it in me to care! It’s my life, and I do not get another one, and I constantly feel that I’ve messed it up beyond repair; I feel like I’m just waiting until it ends, just like I wait for DelLayla, my phone, and my car to stop functioning so that I won’t feel guilty about throwing them away.

My life is a mess beyond repair. I know it, and try as I might; there is no way of fixing it! Trust me, I’ve seen all the angles and considered all the possibilities, none seems to fit.

Can I just get a new one? I wish I could; I can’t even daydream of a new one because this one keeps haunting me every single minute!

Oh well…

Music IS good for the soul, at least my soul…

I can’t say it took away all the feelings from yesterday and sent them to oblivion; they’re still inside waiting for a bluer day to haunt me, but until then…

This will ease my soul a bit…

I found it when I learned that it’s the original Portugese version of Shu Bkhaf, to which I’ve been nostalgic since yesterday…

Thank God for music, and THANK GOD it still works for me!!!

Melancholia

I can’t breathe… not exactly; I mean it just feels like the air is too heavy for my nostrils to inhale it into my lungs and then push it back… it feels like a lot of work…

And my heart feels like a heavy stone sinking all the way to my guts and hurting them…

I’ve been having headaches for God knows how long now; the kind that just doesn’t go away when they’re not banging in my head driving me crazy… and I have been as restless as ever despite my constant fatigue; so I sleep a lot, but thanks to my insomnia, I keep waking up to feel even more depressed and try to sink my depression in my pillow (I need a new pillow!)

Not to mention the mood swings… a minute I am all confident and smiling and alive, the next I just want to shut away the whole world and hate my very own existence, let alone others’… bipolar??

I am grumpy, I am impatient, and I feel like I am aching non stop for no apparent reason…

I think I am depressed!

I mean I’ve been to a doctor because of the fatigue and I had all the tests that would eliminate any potential hormonal imbalance or post-viral infection; the doctor eventually told me it could simply be due to pollution or stress… talk about stress, it’s a lifestyle for me…

I can’t seem to endure any of the things I have supposedly accepted as an inseparable part of my life… I am remembering my anger and re-feeling it, only I am not allowing myself to let it out; it’s trapped in my heart and mind like tears are trapped behind my eyes…

I can’t stand the very people I love, and of course those I resent…

I am tired of my dad’s over protectiveness; it’s suffocating me and making me feel claustrophobic inside my own body! Actually, I am starting to even doubt he’s being this way just for my sake; I think it’s more about what he thinks is best for everyone of us, himself, my sisters, my kids and me… it’s too much weight for me to carry all alone, and it’s unfair!

I am tired of my sisters’ detachment and insensitiveness, which I know is mostly due to my own hyper-sensitiveness; but I just have strong urges of shutting them out for good, like I want to do with all the other annoyances in my life!

I can’t even stand being with my boys at all these days; they’re a very painful reminder of all my issues and the responsibilities burdening me day and night. I kind of hate myself for being a mother, such a mother!

And my mom is not giving me a break asalways, only this time I really want nothing to do with her, and as horrible as it makes me sound, I mean it, and I sincerely wish it would come true, like we could stop talking forever… only I trust she’d never let go!

I literally thought of packing the things I need along with my sorrows and disappointments and just leave home for good, and perhaps even leave my boys; I can’t do it on my own with them. Writing this, I sort of hate myself, but I am feeling like I am no longer capable of being anything useful to anyone. I don’t feel like I have it in me to give, or to want to give for that matter. I don’t want to take either; I just want to be left alone. We Kaman, it’s not exactly realistic thinking to runaway; I will be found, unless I change my job, my car and God knows what else – I haven’t exactly thought this through…

The interesting part is that I don’t even show such clear signs of struggle when people talk to me. My friend was like “manty konty kowayessa akher marra shoftek”, which was right in the midst of all this mess; thing is, when I am with friendly company, all this distress is on hold until I step back to my world and deal with all the nakad there.

For the second time in my life, I want to be someone else, only for different reasons. This time I don’t hate who I am, I just resent all the things I have to deal with and all the stresses and pressures. I want to… live? At least without worrying about consequences and without feeling crippled and pulled down by all the things I should and shouldn’t do. I feel like I am locked in a prison without bars or parameters, yet so real and limiting. And the really painful part is that I feel like I choose to succumb to this prison most of the time, either out of obligation, or fear of consequences.

I am pathetic!

And I have no idea how to remedy all this. I don’t believe any therapy could possibly help; at least not with my current status, and I have no idea how to change that. All I know is that I can feel my spirit sinking and I am too tired to even try to float until this passes, I feel like drowning but I don’t have the courage to let go.

And no, I am not suicidal so I don’t want people talking me out of taking my own life; I just know I don’t have it in me and I am not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse!

I hate how depressing this post is, especially when I am still aware of the little things that give my life a meaning, which I can take forever to list them, yet they fail to bring my soul comfort and ease.

I am listening to Bocelli, hoping his strong and tender voice would wrap my spirit and take away all the aching, but it is making me feel sadder, and the air is still feeling heavier…

Mesh 3arfa!

I sat there all alone pretending to be someone else…

I had a strong urge to be anyone but myself if I was to sit and relive those memories in order to write about them; it felt like it would be easier to remember bad things as if they happened to someone else…

But I couldn’t…

I referred to each memory as mine, and every time I came close to digging it all up, I found myself revisiting recent memories that only occurred because of old ones…

And it kept hitting me that right there, as different as I looked, I was still the same person from whom I was running away… yes, I’ve changed a bit, inside and out, but change does not make you a different person…

I felt alone.

I looked around me, took deep breaths, and tried to write it down, but I kept getting stuck at the same point…

Do you ever go back to a turning point in your life and wonder if you chose the road not taken? Usually, when I do that, it’s does not bring regret or a futile wish that time would go back so that I’d redo things differently… but today it felt like it, it was overwhelming, and my mind kept resisting my attempts to remember…

I tried and I tired, and each time my mind resisted even more stubbornly…

It scared me that I just couldn’t do what I planned on doing… I could see how my mind tried every defense mechanism it knows and it scared me because it only meant something hurts in there and I was getting closer, and worse, I am not ready to feel that kind of pain…

I am the kind who would pour salt on old wounds just to make sure they’re dead tissue and they no longer hurt, but today, I felt too overwhelmed, I felt too alone to handle it on my own and I just found myself letting them be and I decided to distract myself…

After spending around an hour and a half in my own mind, I decided to leave my Pandora’s box unopened for a few more days, and I got in my car…

I drove in the direction of Kattameya road because I didn’t want traffic. I drove and I drove, and I let music play…

I made it until 90 kilometers to Sues and then I started looking for a u-turn, not because I wanted to go home, but rather because I needed to be home before 10 if I am to avoid an unnecessary fight with my dad…

This played…

"انت تمل، و راسي يدور... تقوم تفل، و بحالي دور... دموعي تكل، تعدي بحور... و انت بعيـــــد"

Feels like I’ve always been stuck there, always will be, I can see it, smell it, and feel it… and it hurts... and ana kaman bammel… I am tired and bored from that feeling I get when I am unable to let my thoughts out…

I feel crippled… paralyzed…

I am not sad; I am just utterly confused and lost in my own thoughts and attempts to figure myself out… I am not in peace with myself and it’s driving me mad…

I am waiting for my mood to change; this is when being moody is a blessing…

It’s just hard to explain…

What is happiness?

Is it laughing your heart out? Is it your face blushing with the warmth of those around you? Is it smiling from ear to ear with bright and shiny eyes? Is it contentment and gratitude for everything you have?

I always thought the above were signs of happiness…

Then what is missing? What the hell is wrong with me?

I am laughing my heart out most of the time, my cheeks are all red and my eyes are all shiny and I am growing dimples because of all the smiling! I keep whispering to myself “alhamdulilah” because of how everything just happens!!

But I feel rather sad!!

The kind of sad that creeps inside your heart and makes it afraid of beating!!

It makes me angry at myself for not being able to enjoy all the blessings.

Yes, I am doing my best to overlook that feeling and live each and every moment to the fullest; I literally drag my body to every single experience so that my mind wouldn’t take over with that unexplainable melancholy. But even then, in the midst of my so called “happiness”, I just don’t feel happy!

I am extremely vulnerable to all the little inconveniences, the ones that I know should never bother me, the ones I know didn’t bother me much before because I can always justify them. Now, I just see them loud and clear and I find my face shrinking with disgust!

I try to analyze my moods according to all the colors I buy, but it’s really hard; I keep choosing purple, aquamarine, blue, and then I have strong brown and beige urges, but then I try to focus on pink and coral shades because they bring out my natural blush! When I think of it, I realize I am only choosing those colors because purple matches my new shoes, aquamarine is the closest shade to green that’s not green, and I need to have green to get over my dislike of it, blue, I am just missing blue; it’s familiar, and no matter what I do, I never have enough brown and beige; like I do not belong to earth that way, as for the pink and coral shades, I am just living up to what looks good on me!!

But what is it do I want??? It’s not just about the colors; it’s about everything else I pick!!

Which color? Which mood? Which activity? I find myself choosing everything for a reason, but I never really do anything just because of the utter urge!!

Have I become addicted to sadness? Have I gotten used to resentfulness of all the things I don’t like?

Right now, I have some hole inside my heart aching because I can’t stand certain things that just suffocate me. I wish I could just scream them out and let them fester somewhere else other than my heart, but I am too aware of the potential and unnecessary damage it would cause, so I am taking the chances of harbouring them! I am not even sure I will feel better if I do otherwise.

I found out a couple of things about me though… I am a control freak, at least inside my own head; I want things done in a certain way and I get really angry when they’re done differently even when I don’t show it, and to make it worse, I am usually right, which adds up to my frustration. I also have serious confrontation issues; I’d rather be passive aggressive than point out my dissatisfaction, sometimes out of being considerate to others and sometimes just because I am aware of the futility of acting on my anger!

Speaking of anger, one of the main reasons why I’m angry is that I don’t get why it’s just me who sees all those inconveniences and get annoyed by them the way I do! I hate how my parents made me that way, I am really angry at them for exerting that much effort to teach me to be aware of my behavior so that I would not offend others! I am angry because I am offended by certain people acting on their rather dumb and extreme impulses while I have to hold back my opinions about that because God forbid my opinion would make them uncomfortable!!

Perhaps some day I will just say it and walk out without ever having to look back, just like how I no longer feel a thing about the x! I guess it’s part of who I am; either I care too much or I just give up and replace that built up repressed resentment with indifference, regardless of the person and how close they might be to me!! It’s how I mend my broken heart and my big disappointments; and the scary thing is that I know I would do it with anyone, even my own babies if they ever push that far!!

What kind of person is that who just punishes people by banishing them outside of her existence instead of dealing and talking things through???

I guess the kind who does not pretend to feel things she doesn’t feel, and find it hard to express her gratitude in words, and the kind who has it in her to leave her own babies to go on a much needed vacation.

I am tired of all the judgmental questions. It hurts that my feelings and my pain are taken for granted the way they are just because I guard them so very carefully with all the smiles and laughter and sarcastic comments. It hurts to be viewed as the cold-hearted-ice-bitch I know I'm not but would never admit to it. It hurts to be that sensitive and have people think of me as the other extreme, and it hurts even more that I force myself to fit into the role of that other extreme just to preserve my pride!

It took me two pages of rambling to get a big part of it out… there is more, but like I said, it’s just hard to explain.

P.S. I may not be feeling the kind of happy I wish I’d feel, but I am surely having fun, aside from all the enforced guilt… and I am grateful, for everything… alhamdulilah.

In theory and in practice…

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

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

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

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

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

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

In practice, it means NOTHING.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Quote that got me where I started!!

"لو أن كل انسان عرف متى يمتنع عن اتخاذ الخطوة الأولى، لتغيرت أشياء كثيرة"
(موسم الهجرة إلى الشمال لـ الطيب صالح، على لسان (مصطفى سعيد -

I had a task to finish that book today. I actually locked myself in my room and began to read so determined not to lose focus in my surroundings or drift to something else while reading, like I usually do.

Until I came to that phrase…

I stopped to read it again, and when I was done, I read it again. it was captivating how that phrase echoed in my mind, how I could relate to it. I am sure everyone does, but it was one of the millions of thoughts that were haunting me lately and the words describing it were right there mocking me in a book where I didn’t expect to find it.

For a while there, I sat and tried to trace all my first steps that led me to unfavorable places. But then, I shook my head and decided that I would think about it some more when I’m done reading the book.

I went half way through the book until I felt rather tired and sleepy, so I decided to take a break and nap.

I woke up an hour later, having almost forgotten about that phrase. A while later I decided to resume my reading and as I read some more, I noticed how baby sis marked her favorite quotes, ones I liked, but they got me back to that one immediately because it was the quote that touched me the most in the book.

The book did not exactly fascinate me, not half as much as the quote anyway!

I can’t seem to get my mind off my first steps, at least those I remember…

Is there a way we can identify those first steps before taking them? Apparently, you can’t really take them back, it takes a lot of effort to fix the consequences, and it’s just draining! Why is it so hard? Why can we only see them in retrospect instead of in advance? Silly naïve me!

I finished the book in an attempt to focus on one thing and stop thinking about the millions of things that don’t do me good, but somehow it got me where I started… I am still mad at myself and completely unsettled.

Okay, I’ll try another book, but not today, I think it’s time to go to bed and struggle with my insomnia.

Mafeesh Fayda!!

I'm joking and laughing as if there were no tears a while ago!

I'm telling myself that it was no big deal and that I better stop obsessing and move on already!

I'm too stubborn to allow myself to ache and take time to heal, God forbid I would collapse in the healing process, hasn't he said that in my stubbornness lies my strength!

So I lock it in, stand up and pretend nothing ever happened, it's easier, comme d'habitude!

I do it knowing that I am just burying something that will rise later to haunt me, and I am saying it's ok; I'll be stronger by then!!

But I know it will hit me when I need to be strong to make me weaker...

Yet I'm doing what I do best, I laugh and change the subject with a witty joke!!

In retrospect

The movie…

He looked like him. In real life, he doesn’t; just the petite structure and the haircut and the little beard.

He behaved like him. Not exactly, just the humor and the charm and the selfishness, only in real life he showed more kindness that hid the selfishness, kindness that made all his mistakes forgiven.

He reminded me of him when he shaved off that hair. Only in real life, he had bigger brown eyes, and higher cheekbones, the features we share.

I cried because under layers of years that hold anger, contempt and disappointed, I realized that I missed him.

The club…

I needed someone who would charm my boys and play with them like he did with me, I thought of him.

I needed someone who’d throw a punch for me without thinking of consequences, I thought of him.

I needed someone who’d hold me and tell me that it will be ok, and I realized I needed him, not him him, the him I thought he was.

The restaurant…

I finally talked about it, it was too clear in my head that I missed him and I needed him. I knew I did because I was vulnerable. Alhamdulilah, I had a great friend to listen.

I didn’t say how he disappointed me, I don’t think I really remember anymore, but I still don’t forgive him, and I know for a fact that I would never tell him how I miss him or need him if we ever talk again, not that I think we ever will.

Yesterday…

I kept going back to that little girl; I envied and pitied her for all she had…

She had the warm loving arms that she appreciated…

She had safe arms that she missed and idealized…

She had warm, loving, safe and overprotective arms that she resented and couldn’t appreciate…

She didn’t see things clearly. Like the movie, she needed lots of time to figure things out for what they really are, but in her case, a lifetime…

A lifetime where she stopped hanging around the warm loving arms that she loved until they were no longer there to hold her…

A lifetime of mistakenly believing in the safety of the arms she missed to realize that those arms were nothing but a heartbreaking disappointment…

A lifetime of avoiding and rejecting the warm, loving, safe and overprotective arms that she couldn’t bear, now, all she wishes she could do is hide in those arms and cry all those lost years… but she’s afraid… afraid of all the questions, afraid of the tears, afraid of being overwhelmed… but most of all, terrified of losing those arms the moment she surrenders to them…

A lifetime full of stupid mistakes she did because she never turned to those arms...

Yesterday, all I wanted was to run in those arms and cry, but I didn’t want the questions that I couldn’t answer and I didn’t know how to show my vulnerability, so I didn’t… I couldn’t even cry on my own…

Right now…

Tears keep flowing with every word I type! I am not crying, tears just fall out of my eyes hurting my eyes but not easing my soul.

And I still feel unable to find the words that tell any of it, it’s too hard to describe it to begin with…

I miss when my pain could find its way out without me looking for words, and I miss him and how he could have fixed me… I take a glimpse at my little mementos and try to remember his words to guide me, but I feel too confused right now…

I’m trying to learn from all the things that revealed themselves in the past days, trying to figure out how to fix myself so that I would not repeat any of my mistakes.

I don’t want to compile unpleasant experiences and lock them. I don’t want to pretend they never happened and they never affected me until they find the chance to haunt me and mess up my life like tides ruin sand castles… I want my life to be more than sandcastles, and I have no idea how…

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 not so welcomed déjà vu!

Listening to Nina Simone’s strong deep blue voice, I lay in bed as I try to recall the day and figure out what it was that got to me that way.

So what? I spent yet another day unable to avoid him as we took the boys to the pool. As usual, he tried to say and do all the things that he knows get under my skin and I pretended not to be bothered as I shot back my share of insults at his character. Pretty much an average Friday out with him!

I am grateful to how he keeps ensuring me that I made the right decision choosing to leave him, but I wish I never had to see him again and I honestly wish my kids didn’t need a father. I feel like I did something horrible bringing them into this world with such a person, he doesn’t deserve them or the way they love him! Touché!

I keep remembering everything trying to point my finger at what shook me so hard…

We drove by so many places that held not so pleasant memories; it made me more receptive to his attempts to ruin my mood. Or was it the other way around; perhaps he he said or did something that made me receptive to remembering all those bad memories!

He was mean to her on the phone. I don’t feel the least bit sorry for her. He said he was into someone else now, someone new! It made him see how he doesn’t want to be with her.

He made me hear him talk to her as he implied those meanings so bluntly and so coldly… and I remembered. I remembered the resemblance between the way he talked to her and the way he talked to me, I remembered.

I didn’t feel sorry for her, but I felt sorry for me, all over again! And I hated the way I felt back then, and I hate it now twice as much.

Later, on our way home he said he was not in love with the new one. He said he was drawn to her because she was “angelic” and that he knew she’d make a good wife. He said he knew he wouldn’t have her outside of a marriage. It sounded familiar.

I found myself those words when he asked me what I thought of it all “you don’t deserve angelic, if she is really as good as you say, then I hope she sees you for who you are soon enough, lest you will only ruin her chances of having a good life with someone who actually deserves her… otherwise, I just hope she’s like you”

Yeah that’s probably it; he ruined my chances as well as my kids’.

I wish him no happiness and no peace for he simply denied me mine.

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.

Overrated…

He said “you don’t get it, it’s not my place to make any decisions; if you think about it, nothing is up to me to do for the time being”

I said “I understand, strangely enough, it is my decision but I can’t seem to make anything happen, at least not to my liking!”

He laughed “my point exactly!”

I said nothing.

I hate it when someone is that right...

I hate it even more when I am finally capable of making up my mind only to be forced to keep it to myself until it’s time.

B tells me I should learn to be patient and that patience is my ultimate lesson if anything!

B tells me to stop rushing everything and learn to sit back and live each day at a time instead of wasting my present hoping for a future that may not bring me the happiness I anticipate.

B tells me to pray for whatever is good for me and to not label it because we humans never really know what’s best for us.

B is my Zen master, my religious friend who always sets me straight when my faith weakens.

B is also right!

Problem is...

It’s much simpler for everyone to see how all I can and should do is let go, have faith and stop trying to define and understand things that are just beyond me.

All of a sudden, I have to fight my nature of trying to make sense of everything and accept the life I never really owned until so recently only to find it already a mess I cannot seem to set straight!

If I were watching a movie, I’d feel sorry for the lead actress, but in real life, I resent self pity and it makes me want to struggle harder to do the exact things I should not be doing.

My only alternative otherwise is to stop wanting to live, lose hope and wait for the day I die; because waiting for the day you live is just like waiting for the day you die, only dying is more guaranteed.

All I want to is to live, doing a few of the things I want so that when my time comes I can say I did at least one thing my way! But it looks like living is a luxury I simply can’t afford, and ironically, neither can I afford dying!

I hope B is not reading this; he’d be disappointed at me for not living up to my potential!! Turns out that my potential is among the rest of the things that are simply overrated!

Can I sleep all this out?

Will you wake me up when it’s my birthday to remind me that one more year was wasted for the sake of God knows what! Just if you do, tuck me back in to sleep off one more year. After all, what's a year? Only another thing that's overrated.

This is what I'm singing to myself...

The Details in the Fabric

Calm down...

Deep breaths...

And get yourself dressed... instead Of running around

And pulling all your threads saying

Breaking yourself up

If it's a broken part, replace it

If it's a broken heart then brace it

If it's a broken heart then face it

And hold your own

Know your name

And go your own way

Hold your own

Know your own name

And go your own way

And everything will be fine

Everything will be fine

Hang on... Help is on the way

Stay strong... I'm doing everything

Hold your own

Know your name

And go your own way

Hold your own

Know your name

And go your own way

And everything, everything will be fine

Everything...

Are the details in the fabric

Are the things that make you panic

Are your thoughts results of static cling?
Are the things that make you blow

Hell, no reason, go on and scream

If you're shocked it's just the fault of faulty manufacturing.

Yeah everything will be fine

Everything in no time at all

Everything...

Hold your own

And know your name

And go your own way

Are the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name)

Are the things that make you panic

Are your thoughts results of static cling? (Go your own way)
Are the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name)

Are the things that make you panic (Go your own way)

Is it Mother Nature's sewing machine?
Are the things that make you blow (Hold your own, know your name)

Hell no reason go on and scream

If you're shocked it's just the fault (Go your own way) of faulty manufacturing

Everything will be fine

Everything in no time at all

Hearts will hold

Amen!!

On a day that tried all it could to be a good one…

Yesterday was such a strange day!

From 6 am to 6 pm it spelled trouble all over the place to the extent that I had decided to call it a day and sulk in bed as I waited for the day to end.

Luckily Mayo made it better by joining me on a Riff Band night at Sa2yet el Sawy…

The band played all my personal favorites, almost all of them, and I mean stuff I secretly hoped I'd listen to!!!! I only didn’t know two songs or something, and I enjoyed all of it despite my blue mood and the backache that was making it a bit painful to move with the music.

Later, Mayo made me smile even more with all the stuff she said even after I was home, and I got the chance to chat a bit with a friend. It’s fair to say the day ended nicely that way.

Even after I fell asleep, I could feel my mom getting into the room to make sure the kids and I were tucked in bed. For the first night in God knows how long, I didn’t overhear her cursing at me during my sleep; instead, I heard prayers!!

It really felt like the day was trying to make up for the mess-ups but I guess I was just too jaded…

Nonetheless, I feel grateful in a way, even for the strangeness!

A Taste of Fear…

Disclaimer: This post is grim; however, it is not about being depressed or down, it is simply me trying to find/make up reasons for the unexplainable gut feelings I have!

Due to recent events, I am shaken. I am not the same me who was there three weeks ago. I realize it is temporary, I hope it is temporary!

It started with some things the x said and did, which until now I am fully aware are only half true, only I do not know/care which half is true. Yes, he gets to me in so many ways and that fact messes me up. I tell myself it’s because we share kids and because like it or not, he was the first man in my life and I married him for love so the shock can have the effect of tides; it washes off only to revisit, may be I should be prepared for that rather than fight it.

Earlier this month, I had two panic attacks, or whatever close enough to that! I only read about panic attacks long time ago and I always thought I am very unlikely to have any given how I handle my fears. All I know is that some Sunday ago, as I was scribbling to get ready for my Art Therapy session later that day, I rushed into the meetings room and started crying! I was so afraid, I felt an obscure fear inside that I couldn’t explain; I called Rasha in the midst of my tears, until I could finally pull myself back together and go back to my desk to ask my boss for an early leave.

Later that day I went to Dr. Magdi’s (may he rest in peace), and for the first time in a long time I felt close to crying in front of strangers; you see, I have shy-tear-ducts syndrome or something! Anyway, it took Dr. Magdi around three hours to make me a bit calmer enough to smile; he suggested solutions and he reassured me that I am on the right side of things and I should not doubt that. That was the last day I met him, and for some reason I completely miss his presence; you know, the idea of knowing he’d be there if I need some more reassurance along the way. It’s such a harsh thing to lose that feeling.

Even later the same day, after being confronted by how uneasy the suggested solutions were, I collapsed into another episode of panic and tears. I was too afraid to cry in my dark room all alone; I curled in bed and called H. She did everything she could to soothe me, she even said she could come take me out only I told her it was too late and I was too tired to get dressed anyway. I was babbling so many incoherent sentences about the things I’ve been told all through the week, by my mom, by the x, by the people I know, and finally by Dr. Magdi. I say it again, H did a great job to put me back together, she reminded me all over again that it shall all work itself out if for nothing, only because I never intend harm. Thank you H dear!

I pushed my way through that week only to be provoked further by the x; that guy couldn’t be anymore creative when it comes to pissing me off, and he has such a strong leverage, my babies! I am not sure if it’s that motherly of me to say it, but I’ll do anyway; I couldn’t stand being around my kids those days. I love them too much all the time, but being around them those other days felt suffocating. Ironically how every time I feel that way one of them falls sick! It kills me inside and serves as such a painful reminder of how much I hurt when they suffer!

To end the week from hell, after I had an attempt to shake off the bad mood with Rasha, I went home to know about Dr. Magdi’s death. I’ve never cried that much so instantly over death; death usually takes me too much time to process and react! It could be that I had just received help from that man earlier that week; it could be that he died in a sudden car accident, not due to an illness with an expected death. All I know is that I’ve never realized the profound meaning of “إثر حادث اليم” until I read it in his obituary! I found it really disturbing because the other day as I was driving I was thinking how Dr. Magdi was a God-send and how I could always turn to him for mental reassurance and peace, and there was that dark thought of him dying that I instantly shunned away, only the thought became a reality too suddenly for me to process.

I woke up the morning after feeling like I just had a long painful nightmare and that perhaps things won’t be that bad. After all, the x had stopped harassing me when he called me during my episode of crying over Dr. Magdi and he behaved in a “sensitive” way to an extent. Moreover, my mom stopped harassing me when she called me at work to find me still sobbing over the same matter! I never heard my mom saying “ya 7abibty enty 7assasa awy, we ana ma3rafsh Dr. Magdi bas ana 3arfa ad eh konty betesteraya7y lama terga3y men 3andoh” I never even told her my whereabouts when I was there because I didn’t want to deal with “therapy eh we habal eh”!

I guess I cried for as long as I did because I wanted to hold on to his memory for as long as I could by holding on to my tears over losing him. I am fully and regrettably aware that given time, his place in my mind will keep shrinking until it is rarely and randomly recalled; that's the way our souls handle loss, by forgetting. I just didn't want to surrender to forgetting him so soon, or ever for that matter.

I went to Dr. Magdi’s wake the next day with a friend. My tears had already dried and I was back to my rather cold and indifferent self. I sat next to a girl who asked me if I was a student of his, I said I wasn’t and that I went to his center; she nodded and said that so did she! It was amazing how a lot of familiar faces whom I’ve seen at that center were there! That man did touch so many lives; I wish him all the peace there is!

I sat there thankful that I was neither my friend who drove me there nor Dr. Magdi’s assistant! Those two knew him much better than I did and had to deal with more issues and grief than I could possibly endure, at least not at my current state! I almost began to find tears rolling on my cheeks as I realized I was there at the church bidding that man my last goodbye! That was when my friend approached me and said we better leave now. I felt my whole body aching as we walked to where my sis was waiting to drive me home.

Three days now after the wake, I still feel the same on daily basis; I feel strange unexplainable fear in my guts! I shiver occasionally out of both fear and cold, only I am not afraid and neither am I cold! I sit with people and laugh too loud and hard about things that wouldn’t normally even make me smile! I am trying to fight the blues that are creeping into me by singing happy happy tones.

I gave my color box to my son because I couldn’t stand looking at it anymore. I won’t be coloring anymore; what’s the point if the one man who made sense of things I subconsciously said with my colors is no longer there! I will have to fight in order to find the right words and hope they will reveal a little bit more than what I am capable to say, yet remain as properly understood as I’d want them to be.

I am afraid of death in so many ways now…

I am afraid of losing the people I care about and it’s too darn painful! I have always managed to pretend like it was not likely to happen or that when it will, it will me like when my late nana died; expected and wished for to end a prolonged pain and agony, but I am aware of how devastated I was over losing her even then.

Now, I look at my dad and I want to hide in his arms and tell him to never leave me, but I am the girl who finds it emotionally hard to run in his arms as he returns from Alex every weekend!

I see my boys playing and I wish that if I am meant to die anytime, better it be soon so that they wouldn’t hurt the way I would if I lose them at any point!

I guess what scares me about death is that it is a fact that can never be dodged or postponed when it’s time; moreover, it will always be sudden and painful no matter how we anticipate it and think we're ready for it!

I always said I wanted to die young because I was afraid of growing old and incapable like my late nana. Until I had kids and then the responsibility overwhelmed me and scared me of death. I remember Dr. Magdi’s look as he said “… but the responsibility is crushing you and driving you crazy, you want to be selfish but you’re too responsible to be…” he couldn’t be more right! Now I am afraid of dying because of what could happen to my boys if I do!

I try to go back to the simple view of things; “قل لن يصيبنا الا ما كتب الله لنا” and remember my dad’s phrase “عمرك و عمر اى حد ما هيكون أحن من ربنا على عباده” I try to hold on to those two phrases and I try to hold on tighter to my faith and pray, but my prayers are irregular and they lack coherence; I murmur words without even hearing myself as I do, and it’s making me feel even more afraid!

I am not accustomed to fear, and I hate it!

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!

Wishing and Hoping

There’s an old saying, careful what you wish for

I have this as my greeting on my mobile to remind me to never wish for things…

To just hope and accept when my hopes do not come to reality, and move on…

Never wish so hard because you spend too much energy and you will always end up disappointed, whether you get what you wished for or not.

It's that simple, or at least it should be!

Yet a wish always finds a way to sneak into my heart and into my prayers…

And for whatever reason, it comes true, as farfetched as it could be!

And it's just never the right wish!

I just wish for once that the right wish comes true for a change! And by the right, I mean the one that would really make me happy even if I don’t see it right now!

If that is not possible, then I wish I could just stick to hoping and learn not to get my hopes too high; one simple thing at a time should do…

I wish, no I hope…