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…

Not again!!

“… the profoundest changes take place within a very reduced time frame. When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready.

The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back. A week is more than enough time for us to decide whether or not to accept our destiny”

- Paulo Coelho' Author's Note from The Devil and Miss Prym


That’s what I am so afraid of, and it stared me right in the eye when I was trying to distract myself by reading!

I don’t hate change, I am rarely ever scared of it or unwilling to do it, on the contrary, I throw myself right into it, and that scares me. The possibility that the change could be to the worse or that it would bring out the worst in me is what terrifies me.

Uff ba2a! we kaman I barely know who I am and what I want for it to change already, mesh 3ayza al3ab khalas! Being a Gemini can get really exhausting!

My sweet sweet uncle!!

Late at night after everyone went to bed…

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

After I got my water…

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

Like I said, my sweet sweet uncle!!!

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.

Friend of Foe?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mesh la3ba!

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

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

Some of what I have gotten figured out so far…

This is not exactly a post; it is only post material because it was too long a reply for IBHOG’s comment on my previous post, and well, it got me to reflect a little bit on who I am!

I must say that it will be in the form of a comment reply, only with a beginning and an ending for each sentence and appropriate capitalizations when there should be any… here is goes:

I do not hate gray areas as much as I used to (I am 28, no longer 22, it could be an age thing). Now, I acknowledge and accept the gray area, but I never feel comfortable there myself. I remain emotionally detached from those who prefer
the gray area as much as I try not to judge them for it. If I am to give a person the keys to who I am, they can either be black or white; then leave it to me to take whatever risks there might be, knowing what the stakes are!

I would never forgive or trust someone who had lied to my face. I have told my own share of lies when I –thought I- had to out of self-preservation, but they were never told with cold blood. It's actually very easy to tell when I am lying regardless of how brilliant my lie is (I don't lack the logical imagination). I no longer tell lies because they are simply not worth it, not worth how undignified would feel when those lies unravel, and lies always do!

Right and wrong, I see them clearly. Even when I am choosing wrong over right, I would never fool myself or justify by lying; when I do wrong, I either think it's right and admit it later with shame written all over me, or I simply say "it is probably wrong, but I am doing it anyway" (stubborn as a mule syndrome). But I know not everyone sees things the way I do, or at least I keep reminding myself of that on daily basis (I am seriously thinking I’d have it written in a bold font, framed and put on my night stand).

I can’t say I have an eye for victims. If anything, I could be intolerant of the cliché victims, the ones that whine and complain nonstop; I tend to think that the real victims are the ones who have too much pride to sit around and mope, so they try to pretend that it’s all ok. I see them, and I wish I could hold them and let them cry the tears I never could, but then I would ruin the act they maintain to be able to… live?

I’ve been told a lot that I am a child and that I am really naïve, and I am aware of that because I still take certain things for granted. However, I think I have been shocked in a sense because the very same things I take for granted are the ones I am forced to constantly doubt!!!! For example, I am known for that phrase “why would he/she lie, they they really didn't have to!”, but now I find myself analyzing things I’ve been told making sure I didn’t miss any hidden meanings that could change the whole message I was sent!!!

It could be what bad experience has done to me, but why do I still act all naïve like no one would expect?? (I have two friends who constantly send out vibes that they want to snap my neck because I am “sazga”). But with every singly birthday, and with every month away from it, I find myself wondering where my years have gone and wonder how I missed out on the little things I wanted to do when I feel too old to do them already!! It’s sad and I don’t dwell; thank God for my short attention span, sometimes I think I cling to it with everything I got to help me survive.

I talk with myself since the day I mastered speech. I had all sorts of imaginary friends until I finally settled that there is another me who listens and understands like no other. We talk a lot and we get along most of the time, and I am miserable when we’re mad at one another. I see every conversation I had/about to have with anyone in so many scenarios and sometimes I finish the conversation differently in my head just to put my troubled soul at ease.

Would you sleep with a mind that functions that way? I sleep, for two hours, and then I wake up and think some more until my thoughts take me back to sleep and then abandon me two our later to wake up on a new thought. I am a very light sleeper and I barely wake up feeling like I’ve had enough sleep.

I don’t know how to say the words I have in mind, I write them better than I say them. Ironically, my therapist showed amazement at how articulate I am when I first visited her. But I have a friend who agrees that I blurt stuff more than I should, and that it sort of gets me in trouble most of the time.

I only know I live in a bubble because I have been told that by almost everyone I know!! And because since the moment I decided to believe them, and took a real step out of my bubble and tried to see things for what they really are, I rushed back into my bubble and wished I never stepped out. Fetal position comes to mind when I think of my bubble versus the real world!

As for being strong, it comes and goes, when it goes, I see myself falling into little pieces, but Alhamdulilah it comes back shortly after and I see myself being gathered again!! I wish I could describe it more eloquently, but it’s the closest to how it feels most of the time; it could be because I am moody or I could be moody because my strength comes and goes, either way will do!

Compassion and carefulness, I don’t know, but sometimes I find myself unable to show the compassion I feel because I am afraid I would be intruding or that my compassion would be misinterpreted as sympathy and would bruise someone’s pride in the process, and it hurts to think that! Is that carefulness, or just some sort of temporary emotional paralysis? I am cynical, but under that thick layer of cynicism, hides a helpless Utopian who has high hopes, the kind that sends me blindly to my own cliff, don’t they say that cynics are the mushiest, or something of the sort?

Thanks IBHOG for helping me put what I knew about myself in words!

The rest of the reply to your comment belongs to the comment page, because it’s not about me to publish.

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!

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!!

On Boundaries…

Almost a year ago or something…


Looking into the random scribbles and smiling without looking back at me…

“You’re very aggressive. Thing is, you have every right to be; you don’t just burst for no reason, you hold it in for too long until you can no longer handle it and then you become too aggressive, it comes from pain”

Looking at me…

“Why is that??”

I smile and I shrug…

“It’s just who I am I guess!”

Still looking at me…

“It’s not ok because it gets to you more than it should. You let people abuse you in a way because you don’t want to acknowledge that you’re not ok, they push you far beyond your limits and you still try to pretend it’s ok until you no longer can… at that point, it’s pretty much too late for them to fix things and also very late for you to forgive them for messing things up… you’re already too hurt and you burn those bridges with both pain and rage”

Avoiding eye contact…

“I don’t know what else to do; I expect people to understand me well enough to not cross my boundaries!”

Still staring at me, yet maintaining the quiet tone…

“Do you know your boundaries? I don’t think you define yours clearly enough although you're very aware of others'; it’s a loose term when it comes to you because once someone gets close enough; there is almost nothing you wouldn’t take from them … isn’t that what happened with your x? It does not change that he was not a good person, but you let him get away with a lot of things he shouldn’t have until you no longer could, right?”

Nodding…

He resumed…

“You should make boundaries, clear ones, especially for those you love and care about because those are the ones that hurt you the most. If you let them know in advance that you’re not as strong as you come off, they’d be more careful… and if they don’t, at least it would be early enough for you not to hurt. Be as assertive as you seem to be”



He was right. Boundaries are such a loose term for me, not just with the ones I care for! Once I feel comfortable enough, I sort of let my guard down and make room for jerks to take me for granted.

Problem is, there is a nice-gene in there somewhere that doesn’t recognize harassment or abuse even if it hits me in the face! No not a nice gene, I’ll call it stupid-naïve-gene, and it keeps causing me emotional trauma and my mind keeps blocking it somewhere until the next one!

Ufff, when did people become so damn evil! I feel like an idiot just like my friend kept saying yesterday… no, not utopian like I kept correcting him, a complete idiot.

And now, I will try to figure out how aggressive I will have to be with that one! Given the circumstances, passive aggressive is the way to be… and complete avoidance, like the couple of ones before him. I see a pattern, one that I do not like, and I am thinking it’s also me, not just them.

On death, compassion, and things better left unsaid…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would someone bother explaining!

So I already realize people do not respond to me and that I am not in charge of making sure they behave up to my liking.

That being said, would anyone care to explain the following so that I’d stop obsessing and move on…


First, here are the facts that apply to me…


I do not know how to ask for favors, and even if I did, I HATE it… it’s really hard to ask favors even from those I love and cherish…

When my friends, even those who are not close enough ask for favors, I automatically do them without even recognizing them as favors; I only recognize them that way because it’s the word they use when they ask for stuff. I personally don’t believe that I am capable of favors; they are usually trivial stuff I think anyone other than me can do, so why not do them as long as they’re not much trouble for me, I am not a hero!

As for those I do not like, they are more or less eliminated from my calculations when I want stuff; I only think of whatever obstacles they might cause out of their utter dislike of me. Bottom line, I make sure I burn bridges with those I don’t like at all, and I am hundred percent sure I will never look back and wish I hadn’t; I am not a believer of “اللي ماتحتاجش اناهردة وشه، يمكن بكره تحتاج قفاه”, I’d rather die before it happens actually!

It goes without saying that I do not expect those I don’t like to ask favors of me; it doesn’t even cross my mind that it’s possible that someone who is aware of my dislike of him/her would be that delusional to think that not only am I willing to talk to them, but also I’d be willing to go out of my way to do something for them!!


Now, explain that to me…


How could people do all the things, the wrong things that would put me in the place where they are eliminated as explained above, yet have the nerve to ask favors of me!!!

Yes, I can understand that they might not like me yet have it in them to ask something of me… ok, not really understand it, but at least I know it’s possible to happen since people don’t have to do by my own code of ethics.

But to have already burnt most of the bridges, and to have done that knowingly, and then ask for things that require me to pretend nothing ever happened, and act like my usual decent and nice self (kinda), that’s beyond my understanding!!!!


The reason I am wondering...


He called saying he wants to take me and the boys to his family in Zamalek on Friday to celebrate his aunt’s birthday which is one day before Mocha’s. That way, he’d be giving them a chance to be there for Mocha’s birthday since as assumed they’re not on the invitee’s list (he barely made it himself), and to make it look like he could make me forget about the grudge I have for being kicked out and testified against!!

I just can’t believe the nerve, and neither can I find the right words to insult him for such request, which was by the way proposed as a suggestion!!!!! THE NERVE!!!

A little bit of everything…

This keeps happening to me lately! That someone points out –either by implying it or saying it flat out- how they find it strange that I am one person!


Scene I - Last time At Dr. Magdi’s

That girl who was trying to analyze my drawings: *looking at Dr. Magdi* dool 7ad wa7ed bas rasemhom?!!!
Him: *smiling beneath his glasses while gazing at me* aheh oddamek aheh
Her: *looking at me* enty elly rasma dool kollohom???
Me: ah
Her: they’re full of so many contradictions we feehom 7agat mokhtalefa keteera sa3b el wa7ed yela2eeha fe shakhs wa7ed!!!
Me: I guess I am moody that way!
Him: Moody bas?! *smiling even more*

I have his smile engraved in my mind, I will so miss that man!


Scene II - Driving in my car with a friend and I kept pressing ff on the ipod, I drove him mad!

Him: *grabbing the ipod* do you mind?
Me: la khales, ekhtar elly 3ayez tesma3oh…
Him: ok, lama neshoof fe eh yetseme3 *after a while* eh el 7agat el ghareeba de?
Me: hehe I know, too many stuff that can’t be in “one collection”
Him: malhomsh 3elaqa be ba3d aslan! Elly ye7awel yefham shakhseyetek mel beta3 da ye2ool ennek akeed magnoona!
Me: *laughing* howa ana akeed mesh 3a2la! But if it helps, they’re not all favorites, sometimes I download soundtracks, or a discography of an artist for whom I like a few tracks and get stuck with stuff I don’t even listen to! I don’t delete them 3ashan yemken fe yoom ab2a 3ayza asma3 7aga ma3rafhash wab2a perceptive le something I didn’t like before…
Him: tab playlist!
Me: playlisting isn’t fun, I never know what mood I’m in or what matching song I would like to hear until it plays, I only know what I don’t want to hear so i skip it, we kaman I enjoy the little surprises my ipod gives me!

I actually playlisted that day to see if I actually have a consistent genre, but it was only a smaller list of too many different genres!


Scene III - On my desk taking some notes while on the phone. My colleague walked in with some handwritten notes I had given him two days ago to review before I write a report.

Him: khody, tamam keda, just put me on the cc.
Me: ok *handing him the notes I had just written* khod dool, de el details beta3et el course elly hakhdo, we mawa3eed el classes wel mawa3eed beta3et el English proficiency test…
Him: *reading it, then looking at the notes he was just giving me* sanya wa7da, enty katba el etneen dool *holding both notes*
Me: *not even looking at him* yes
Him: (my name), bossy, it’s like they’re written by two different people!
Me: *looking at them and realizing he’s right* hehe, yeah, looks like I have multiple personality disorder or whatever any professional calligrapher would tell you!

The first notes were written in small italic letters that looked a bit cursive, while the second notes were written in rather far-apart up right letters with bigger emphasis on each letter!


And just a while ago, Rasha was commenting –out of the blue- on how strange she finds it that I can be friends with such a vast variety of personalities and like them all the same! I found it extremely funny because I had just writing this post when she sent me that msn message!!!

Looks like I am either one hell of a moody person, or I have multi personality disorder like I was telling my colleague, or I have a serious identity crisis, or I could just be a typical Gemini; too many personalities wrapped into one!

Stupid Passion

Is it possible for someone who doesn’t know their passion in life to get so passionate over the stupidest of things!!

I guess so; I’m a living proof!

Months ago, my therapist told me I needed to find my passion; that I was lost and I needed to find my soul doing something, and that I had to figure it out. It made m look at him desperately asking for a clue but he kept looking at me and said I should find my passion on my own because no one else would know it if I don’t.

I’ve been thinking of all the possible things I could be passionate about. I replayed my life trying to remember the things I liked doing, the things I was good at doing, and there was the shocking truth…

I never really liked anything long enough to be the best at it; it could be because I was afraid I would never be the best, so I gave up at the stage of it being just a hobby to escape any potential failure.

Wait, it gets better…

The things I was actually good at, I kept them at a distance because I didn’t want to wake up one day to discover I got bored and stopped liking them!

How pathetic is that! Yes, my fickleness scares me from getting too close to things or people because I could either disappoint of be disappointed. Like I said, pathetic!

I decided to stop searching; I told myself my passion will catch up with me and find me.

It kinda did a couple of months ago, or so I thought anyway. It was helping people; helping people gave me a feeling of euphoria I enjoyed so very much. For a couple of days I could sleep better, my diet became healthier, and something about me was radiant, people couldn’t help but notice!

The Caller actually sent me text message saying I should do more work on the other blog because I am good at it; it made me post a couple of times before I went to my ridiculous state of hibernation! Yes, I admit it, I don’t know how to make that blog work, and given what happened next (or below), I was not ready for another disappointment!

So here is what happened next, I thought I should help people!! I contacted my shrink whom I knew started an NGO about creating awareness against violence and providing psychiatric help to those who had been traumatized. I told her I was willing to volunteer and take whatever courses and take a parapsychology degree so that I can do it professionally, no medications involved, just compassionate and professional help to those who seek it.

It was such a disappointment! I know my shrink could read this, and I hope she does because I never had the guts to tell her in the face how disappointed I was at the meeting I attended! It was only about raising money for a party that was supposed to help create awareness to the NGO. Mind you that the attendees who should buy the tickets, you know because of whom that specific singer was chosen (wa7ed aslant masme3tesh 3anno abl keda, but I blame my limited awareness of Arab singers), are upper class people who –according to the people in the meeting- only go there to see who got married and who is still man-hunting!! And don’t get me started of what I think about that! Anyway, all the talk was about sponsors and advertising and the tickets prices! No one mentioned the help we were supposed to give, not even for a few minutes on the side!

I know I know, I am too freakin’ utopian and I expect things to be in a certain way. I’ve heard it all before! Every time I remember how disappointed I felt I almost cry! I wanted to help people; I was thinking support groups and nonfinancial gain and there I was looking at people fighting over the best way to bag sponsors! If I wanted to do that, I would have worked in my field of studies, marketing! Oh well!

Don’t get me wrong, I am not an NGO kinda person; if anything I hate belonging to a bigger group where the goals and motives get confused with other things that have nothing to do with the cause! I inherited by dad’s cynicism unlike baby sis who still believes she can still do good even within a corrupt system. My good baby sister.

Today, it hit me. My passion for helping people is only the positive side of how I feel when I see people doing/accepting injustice! I can’t help but feel furious when I hear a story about someone hurting others with no regard to anything but their own interests and I get even madder when I see the victims accept their roles so submissively and endure the abuse and perhaps even invite some more!

I get so angry I wish I could turn into the Goddess of war and rage so that I can rip off the hearts of those who inflict pain! If any of the ancient mythologies were ever true, I would have loved to be Sakhment, Ishtar, Athena or Minerva who ironically also represent good things like health, wisdom and wealth!!

But who am I to mess with anger; all those myths tell how the Goddesses were blinded by their anger and ended up inflicting harm on everyone equally!! I guess I should just stop trying to think like a God and accept that only Allah swt has the key to all and that we’re all in a constant battle testing our strengths and beliefs!

My dad always tells me after bad disputes with my mother that I should stop behaving as if I were an equal and accept my role and live up to it. As right as I believe he is; I just don’t know how to accept my role if it subjects me to be wronged even if by my mother and even if unintentionally!

Deep breath in… aaaand out…

Maybe I should consider yoga like my sis! Oh crap, I don’t want to be around her anymore than I have to; Zen people get on my nerves. It’s beyond me how anyone can see the mess that happens all around and still be calm just makes me wanna hurt them or something, may they’d get as angry!! Yeah, it’s probably envy talking; I am not envious by nature but it seems that anger visits me bringing all its friends lately as a punishment for not letting it in enough, or perhaps locking it in that box! Kick boxing seems more fitting for me!

Anyway, back to the reason I started writing this…

Yes, I have a misplaced passion! Whoever taught me about right and wrong as a child screwed me for life because they didn’t explain that it’s not up to me to make everything right and that the universe does not answer to me, and that even wrong happens for a reason and hard as I might try, I will not always get it, not even often!

I am so darn angry right now I want to cry! That idiot talks about wanting to marry anyone we khalas as if other people’s lives have no regard as long as he gets his needs satisfied! How arrogant!! And the way he says “at least mesh ha3mel 7aga 7aram” makes me wanna kick him where it hurts!!! I keep yelling at myself “don’t argue, don’t argue; he’s aware you’re getting angry and he feeds on it, don’t argue” I would gladly hope he meets his match, the one who teaches him the cruelest of lessons only to balance his own cruelty, but I learned it will not just be about him suffering, more people will suffer, people I care about!

My only defense mechanism helped a bit! God bless heartless sarcasm! I gave him a bitter taste of it and then told him I had to go.

Only I found myself writing this post….

If any of my good friends called me to rant about something so mundane, I’d try to calm them and point out to them how ridiculous it is to get upset about the same thing all over again when they have absolutely no control over any of it! But here I am, unable to get so angry, so passionately angry I could hurt people!!

Darn!

Where is my art therapist when I need him! I can’t see him before next Sunday!!! And I can’t even just draw it out because my mom is spying on me, thinking she can look at the shit I draw and figure me out, or even worse make up silly remarks about me trying to be a painter! Either that or I am developing a severe case of paranoia!

Note to self: “people can be really sick and twisted, including you! So stop whining, get over the shock and accept that there is nothing you can do to change it; you can barely change yourself! Etweksy!”

What do you know, another incoherent rant!

as incoherent as it is...

When I’m afraid, I face my fears. Unless my fear is about consequences that are certain to happen and which I know I cannot handle, I use my stubbornness to do exactly the thing I am afraid to do. I am not bragging, it’s just how I function, and I admit it had taken me to all the wrong places; it’s not a virtue to live fighting with life and do the opposite of what everyone tells/expects you to do. For that, people who see my strength tell me I am daring and unique; they don’t know the battles I fight with my fear and the crazy things I do to win!

I can’t live without hope. Take it away from me and you'll watch my spirit wither and fade leaving nothing but the anger and resentment I try on daily basis to let go of! Yes, I have those; the scars left by my war wounds, wars where I mostly fought myself! I hope it will all be better once I figure out a way to like myself enough to stop all the fighting. I know I have it in me to be better but I get lost a lot because of my pride.

My heart is so… stupid. It’s stupid among so many other things, but stupid makes the top of the list because its stupidity has the power to take over my brains and make the wrong things seem right! I mistake a lot of things for the right things that way. I let go of my mind and its logic and the sense it makes to follow my stupid heart to where I overly abuse my mind and heart thinking about all the things others might take for granted.

My body is frail when my soul is that weak. And my soul is weak because I seem to take my faith for granted most of the time; how arrogant! My hands are cold and they seem to cramp every time I try to move them. I have a huge lump in my throat and I know I could use a cry but unfortunately I no longer cry the way that would ease my soul, I only cry the way that would hurt my eyes, my blurry eyes!

Every day is a battle to keep a balance that barely lasts for enough time to make an achievement! And I want so much of life, I want to make a lot of things and be a lot of things and sometimes it is too draining to be! I expect too much of people, but the tragic part is that I expect even a lot more from me, more than I can ever be.

And you, you messed that balance for such a long time. It gave me perspective on who I was as I was trying to mend and heal. I took what is probably my first lesson of self discovery and I took it through humility. I am grateful because it was an eye opener to a lot of things I took for granted until they were no longer real. It is knowing that there was something bigger to find and realize that made me find it in me to stop hating you.

Why isn’t that enough for you? It was enough for me! I know we’re not the same, but it’s you who insists that we are!

You just had to push until you made me burst! all you had to do was blame me and ask me to "think of the boys and think of sacrificuing for them before throwing us away" and I found myself saying those words...


Stop it, stop it right there… don’t make me set you straight on this one, don’t make me tell the story again, don’t you dare twist that story, don’t you dare believe your own lies and make a twisted truth out of them!
I was there, not just once, but twice, I let you fool me twice because I didn’t want to throw “us” away and I got my heart broken and I got my ego bruised and I took the time to stand on my feet, so don’t you dare pin it on me just because I am handling it better than you, because I seem stronger…
I am only strong because I resent being the victim but that does not mean you get to become the victim and make me the bad guy! I will not let you.
If you need to know that I have it hard, if that will make you feel better to know you’re not the only one who’ll suffers, let me tell you about my suffering yemken te7es be ne3met rabena 3aleik…
I am the woman in this plot, I get to be blamed by society unless they know the dirty details that you know I am too proud to share…
I am the one who’s either too stupid or too arrogant to a7afez 3ala beity we goozy…
I am the woman most of the other married women will fear that I might steal their husbands, or if I’m lucky, they will pity me because I don’t have a man!
I am the woman who will go to bed every night after I kiss my kids in their sleep hoping that my choice will never affect them in a bad way…
I am the one who tries to smile as I try to accept the fact that no loving fingers will stroke my hair before I fall asleep and no arms will hold me when I am restless…
I am the one who people will always tell me “but you’re too young to remain single for the rest of your life” yet would point accusing fingers at me if I decide to live my life in a way that makes me happy without violating any of their stupid rules, they will assume I am a bad mother and I am an easy woman…
It’s all me, not you… and I am facing those fears by telling myself that for the first time my instincts are backed up by logic and solid evidence… I am telling myself there is hope in a tomorrow, a hope that I’d be killing if I come back to you out of fear…
My heart is overwhelmed and it’s driving my mind crazy, but I know in my gut I am making the right thing yet I have to constantly remind myself of that or I’ll go insane!
So don’t pin it on me and say you’ve tried because it was you who sent me in that direction and I stopped blaming you for it!


And yet, you're still pushing!

My Dirty Laundry

I’ve been tagged on FB by so many people. For obvious reasons, I think it’s safer to share it here hidden behind partial anonymity; after all, my two sisters and two cousins are the only family I have aware of this blog which does not begin to compare to my FB friends list.

So here goes nothing…

1. Barely anyone knows all there is to know about me; each person –no matter how close- knows a piece of me. Of course they have a general idea about what they don't know. Let's put it this way, it won't be a great idea if I sit all those people together and leave them alone for enough time to swap information! No, it has nothing to do with being mysterious, it's just the way it is and I have no idea why!

2. My best friend and I wanted to plan a trip to Bermuda before we got married. By Bermuda, I mean the Bermuda Triangle; we wanted to find out what it was about and we wanted to disappear. She always said I was the one who bailed out on her since I got married first, well, I am almost single now!

3. I never smoked a cigarette. My two attempts plus my shisha attempt included endless coughing and trying to spit air, not to mention a minor vomit incident!

4. I talk to myself all the time. When I was little I had a twin, an older brother, and a bunch of friends, all imaginary! I still remember most of their names. I was an only child for four years and a half; I had to keep myself entertained!

5. I hated my younger sister. I hated her less when we had our baby sister, because baby sis was too darn annoying. Then I divided the hate equally between them. Then one day I woke up to find that I am madly in love with both!!! Girl, I can still hate you back so don’t abuse the love.

6. My first crush still makes me smile when I think of him! I really think highly of him; he's about the only guy of whom I did not come to think less. The secret is I never really got to know him better, but from a distance, he still seems perfect!

7. I never dyed my hair! Ok, I once tried a really dark red, but it barely showed at all, and last time I wanted to go for a lighter shade of brown but I guess I was allergic to the dye and I jumped into the shower the moment it itched. This concludes that my hair has been the same color all my life!

8. I am open-minded to almost all sorts of food as long as it's finely cooked and that its main ingredient is not one that I completely dislike. Of course I had a long hate-list growing up, but I am over it. However, I still hate my mother's cooking and any similar cooking (too much water, barely any salt).

9. I have OCD when it comes to how my hands smell. In my cooking days, it took me too much time to finish a meal because I washed my hands between every task and kept smelling it! I always carry hands gel because I hate cream and its greasy feel; problem is it leaves my sensitive skin rather dry.

10. My defense mechanism when I am intimidated by someone is to intimidate them twice as much! You can only imagine what my defense mechanism is like when I feel disliked by someone!

11. I hate weddings, with passion! I hated my own wedding and I was literally forced to have one by my dad! The only two weddings I have on my to-attend list are my sisters', that is if they ever get married.

12. Strong fragrances give me a headache and make me too noxious. This is why I prefer light perfumes, and even better, natural fragrances. Vanilla and cinnamon make it to the top of my list.

13. I barely ever throw up! And no, it's not cool; during both pregnancies I suffered from severe nausea and had constant urges to throw up but never could, unlike all the other pregnant women. When having a food poison, I barely throw up; my stomach fights the natural reaction to nausea thinking it's doing me a favor, it's not!

14. Growing up, I had two sever head traumas. One at the age of 2 or something, and the other at the age of 13. The first one was because my youngest uncle was tossing me in the air and didn't exactly break my fall, it resulted in temporary paralysis, I think it's one of the reasons why I kinda fear heights. The second one was in a car accident and my seatbelt wasn't fastened, my face was deformed for around two weeks until the swelling went away and my face regained its natural color! Every time I look in the mirror, I feel thankful none of it was permanent.

15. Whenever I meet people for the first time, I just sit there saying the least. I just smile and agree or refrain from agreeing. I mostly concentrate on studying the people, their way of speech, their facial expression and the way they interact with one another. People usually get the wrong idea that I am rather quiet and shy; truth is I am only deciding which side of me they shall see.

16. Everything about blood turns my stomach. One of the things that make me cry for no reason. When I got my wisdom teeth pulled (each on a separate occasion of course) I cried. The first dentist made it clear that I was a wimp! The second panicked and thought I was in pain and took twice as much time to stop the bleeding and do the stitches which resulted in even more crying! The one who pulled the last two kissed me on my forehead; he sexually harassed me a few visits after which definitely didn't help with my whole blood phobia!

17. I hate my birthday. For some reason I always expect spectacular events and somehow I always get disappointed and left to the horrid fact that I am one year older.

18. I am very good at pronunciation, even in languages I don't know!

19. I never liked my grandpa from mom's side, and I mean we were on horrible terms.

20. Both times I was pregnant; my only wish was that my baby would be healthy and smart. Alhamdulilah my wish was granted and that makes me eternally grateful.

21. My mind connects dots in a scary way. I can receive irrelevant data on separate and far apart occasions, yet eventually I come to correct conclusions 90% of the time! Thrillers that revolve around a mystery that unfold in the end (movies and books) are not that thrilling because usually I figure it out halfway, this is why I notice and appreciate the details even more. I would like to think it's how my mind makes up for its incompetence with numbers!

22. Despite the above point, my mind blocks out information it should not store; like people's passwords that I might see them type or they give to me to do something for them.

23. I do not wear makeup. I do not completely hate wearing it; I just think I look better without it! Not to mention that I like washing my face too often and I am always putting my hand all over my face to rub my eye(s) or bite my nails (not chop them off, just bite on to them!). Bottom line, I have too much makeup for someone who wears none!

24. I have come to the realization that I generally enjoy old music rather than recent! One of my all time favorites is La Takziby sung by Abdel Wahab, I can listen to it nonstop, ask my sisters!

25. My most brilliant ideas come to me in the shower.

Unresolved emotional issues

When I was little, I remember barely crying in front of people. I don’t remember or understand why, I just know that whenever I wanted to cry I’d hide from people. Of course, it was always obvious that I cried; I am that transparent, people always knew I was crying, but I always took consolation that they didn’t see me cry.

I was once surprised when one of my school buddies joked saying that I cry so easily; he’d never seen me cry! He said I turn too red, my eyes shine too much he can clearly see the tears, and then I disappear, he said it happened a lot especially when I was angry.

In college, I was only seen crying twice, once after a burst at class, I stormed in the washroom and broke something and started crying. The second time was the day after my late nana died and I went to college for a presentation, right before I started it, I had an argument with a professor and I just couldn’t contain the grief and the anger.

I cried on my wedding day; seeing my dad choking on words and fighting his own tears, seeing my in-laws and how annoying they seemed to be talking about things that do not compare to what my daddy was going through made me want to cry. When D walked towards me to give me a congratulations hug, I told her to hold on to me until I could hold back the tears because I was so determined not to cry, God bless her.

My x was the person who had seen me cry the most; I lived with him for five years. Sometimes for him, sometimes because of him, sometimes he was there and well, I trusted him with my tears even when he caused them. He would have anyone believe that I do nothing but cry, that I have constant emotional outbursts, and he might be right! I just don’t have someone to serve much as a second opinion because no one lived with me that long and the few who had seen me cry are too graceful to complain about it.

Today, I cried. It wasn’t anything special, but it made me think of all the above, it made me reflect on so many things, and the more I realized about myself, the harder I found myself sobbing…

The people I don’t care for, they can NEVER make me cry. There is a thick wall between them and me; however, the only way they can get through is when they make me angry. Anger makes me want to harm them, a punch in the face would do, but neither am I the violent type (even with that temper), nor am I capable of inflicting harm, which makes me feel extremely helpless when dealing with that anger; hence, I cry.

The people I care for, they make me cry so easily and they see me cry so often! This is why I’ve been avoiding most of my friends lately whenever I am feeling blue; I don’t want to burden them, I don’t want to bore them with my emotional crap. I have troubles saying the things I feel to people’s faces, I’ve been working on my emotional expression and I can fairly say I am progressing, with my own terms that is. However, when I am crying, my emotional blabber comes with sobs and incoherent phrases, and I can never risk letting that much out when I have least control over it.

That being said, it confuses me that I cried today because of someone I no longer care for. It is not even the first time; I see it coming every time, and it gets to me every single time! You would think that this happening too often would make me less vulnerable, would make me more able to handle it now that I can predict it, think again! The whole anger and helpless theory does not serve given how often and how predictable the provocation is.

And before you jump to conclusions, it’s not the x. It’s someone whom I don’t have the power to cut off my life yet gets (and has gotten) to influence it big time. I would like to think I have tried working my issues with that person before I declare that I have miserably failed. I would like to say that underneath my anger, I might still care, but I have come to peace with myself accepting that I don’t care.

Ok, I am not sure where I stand emotionally from that person; it’s too confusing. I have strong resentful feelings for that person; everything about them gets on my nerves making me feel like I would wanna beat myself dead before having to spend more time with them! I have come to the realization that the saner choice is to not care, that obsessing over the issue and trying to resolve it will only keep getting to me that perhaps one day I might wake up to find myself another version of that person. I am so scared of one day becoming like that person, one of my biggest horrors.

I just want to know how to block that person out, how to stop them from getting to me that way from ruining every moment of peace I get. I am tired of feeling that way and I am tired of reacting the same way over and over again! I wish I could say more about this but I have just dealt with the whole marriage ending issues, I can’t deal with that now.

So, advice anyone?

The significance of a Perfume Bottle!

He got me perfume, the new CH by Carolina Herrera!

I called him to tell him that I was not ok with him buying me perfume, or any other gifts for that matter and that he should know better than to put something along with his gifts to the boys. He said I am still their mom and that it was his “peace offering” attempt.

He said that he was making it up to me for the perfume bottle and lotion that were missing when I moved out and asked him to send over my stuff. Back then he said he had no idea where that was, and I argued that it was still in gift wrapping and that it was a gift that I cherished and he had no right to confiscate it. He said he didn’t see it and that perhaps the cleaning lady took it or one of his aunts/cousins thought I didn’t deserve it as they were the ones to pack my things!

I remember I was furious at his reply, and I remember I had doubts of him giving it to his girlfriend. Everyone I know told me back then that it’s just another perfume bottle and that I can easily go buy me another one. I cried as I said that it was my perfume bottle, and it was a gift from a good friend and no one had the right to take it.

It all replayed in my head as he spoke, I found myself saying I still didn’t think he owed me a perfume bottle. I said that if anything, he owed me THAT perfume bottle, and anyway, I was over the whole thing.

He said so nervously that he just smelled that perfume and it reminded him of me, and he thought it should be ok to get me something and that I should stop that attitude and be as civil as I claim I can be.

I was baffled because as much as I am ready and willing to move beyond the negative feelings, I am still too proud to accept any gifts from him as my x.

That happened three days ago. It still makes me smile how he got me the wrong perfume, how the wrong perfume reminded him of me.

The perfume he lost was my favorite perfume; J’adore by Christian Dior; my friend got me that because it reminded her of me, and it happened to be my favorite. My friend is actually a daughter of one of my father’s best friends, we’ve become friends since I was a teenager and we barely see one another during short summer vacations when she visits from the States.

The perfume he got me is too strong, to the extent that I could get a headache wearing it. While my perfume has a light fragrance that stay with me without disturbing my sensitive nostrils!

My friend of every other summer knows me much better than the man I once loved and married for a number of years! If someone I barely see enough could know that much about my character more than the one I loved could see after living with me year after another, what does that say about the relationship we had!

I smile as I remember how he never got me the right gift unless he asked me what I liked before getting it. I smile because I was so very blinded by my emotions to notice that, when on the other hand, I always knew exactly what to get him!

Now, I still think it’s the right thing to return that gift, only I am left with a very tiny dilemma. If he’s sincere, I’d probably offend him, which is unnecessary in our fragile relationship. On the other hand, if I keep it and he’s given it to me as another desperate attempt to win me back, I’d be giving him the wrong sign. Like I said, that man never listens to anything I say, he’s driven by his own disturbed thoughts alone.

It's such a complicated society!

I don’t know if it’s our human nature or our society, but I find our tendency to complicate all matters very disturbing. I know it might sound a bit ironic and contradicting coming from someone like me who over thinks everything, especially with how long this post is expected to drag!

So here is where this is coming from…

I went out with my x last weekend, along with the kids; like a hallmark happy family and shit.

So this is how it was like…

Surroundings:

Thursday Evening – After I got off work, I picked the kids up from their nursery and met him at Carrefour Maadi, where the kids knocked themselves out in the kids playing area after getting more than their fair share of toys!

Friday – He picked us up from my parents’ after prayers and we spent the day at the club where the boys behaved like they’ve never seen sand in their entire lives!

The impact on the kids:

My Beem was glowing with happiness being around his daddy. He was so proud of the little toys he got and kept saying “babaya gabhomly”, he kept going on and on about how he loves his “baba M”. He behaved his best to impress his daddy and he told him “ana ba7ebak ya baba M” all of a sudden as they were sitting next to one another (of course the x had a bag full of toys next to him, but my Beem is unconditionally sweet when he feels like it nonetheless).

The next day at the club, Beem was happy showing off his scooter-riding skills. Surprisingly, my very cautious and rather easily scared Beem jumped from what would normally be a scary height to impress his daddy after his daddy taught him how to climb those monkey bars. I almost screamed myself; luckily the sand made his fall less painful than it would have been otherwise, and my Beem landed on his feet rather than his knees. *me so proud*

Mocha was rather calm and peaceful. It was his first time to interact with his dad. We’ve been separated less than a month after he was born and he refers to my father as “baba”. So I kept referring to my x as “baba” so that Mocha would pick up on it. He didn’t talk to him at all, but whenever I asked him to give something to baba, he obeyed smilingly.

The impact on me:

Strangely enough, I didn’t burn with jealousy when my son said he loved his daddy; in fact, I was proud that all the negative feelings I have for his dad did not get through, I was glad he didn’t pick on it. Alhamdulilah.

I cannot deny I felt some peace watching my sons having fun and running around happily. I sensed Beem’s sense of security every time he called for his dad, and I secretly kept hoping his father would live up to the father’s role in my sons’ life and that he would bond and make up for them for the past two years.

Generally, it was not straining for me. I was neutral; I was not angry or resentful, neither was I all sunshine and rainbow. I remained silent most of the ride and I barely had much to say unless it was about the kids; otherwise, whenever he tried to start small talk or befriend me, I pretended not to hear him and justified it by being tired and sleepy. My way of politely telling him that I didn’t want to talk.

I think he noticed how I quietly looked away whenever he tried to make eye contact. I think he also noticed I looked the other way whenever any of the past events were mentioned one way or the other; either by passing by a place that holds too many bad memories, or by him mistakenly mentioning something that has the wrong connotation. I still felt sick having to remember any of it.

I didn’t like how he kept asking if I was happy. I didn’t like how he tried to overdo the whole gentleman act either. Nonetheless, I did appreciate how we didn't have any physical contact and how he didn’t try to find excuses to make any. At least until he waited outside the door then held on to my hand for a while after the handshake was over. I never liked it when guys did that; it’s cheesy. I looked him in the eye as I pulled my hand a bit aggressively. I hope he got the message.

NOW

My mom is getting her hopes up that’s we’d be back. My sisters seem to have their own suspicions of his intentions and wondering how his next screw up would be like, I kinda have my own concerns as well. My father is avoiding the whole topic.

What’s upsetting me is that whenever I tell any of my friends what happened, I sound like I am defending the reason behind it and I feel like I have to clarify that NO I do not want back.

It’s really that simple; I agreed to let him meet with the boys because he has the right, getting a ruling from the court will only take time and it’s better for my kids' benefit that I do it amicably as long as I am not compromising any of my rights or security. It seemed to be a good idea given its effect on my boys.

Now, will I be considering a way back? HELL NO! He crushed me and my ability to trust in the whole notion of love. I am not devastated or heartbroken like I once thought I’d be, but my faith in love and marriage has forever been compromised.

As for him, I can’t look at him; I don’t even like looking at him. I don’t find anything he says interesting; in fact, most of the things he said the other day were extremely shallow and I would have normally grilled him with my ruthless sarcasm if I knew he could take it. So if I can’t look at him and I don’t find him interesting, not to mention the whole trust and respect issues I have clearly and repeatedly expressed on that blog, it is OVER.

According to the Egyptian norms, I am a crazy crazy woman.

I have been repeatedly told that I am making a big fuss out of something all men do and that any good wife belongs to her husband’s home. “Go home” they say, “you’ve already shown him your strength and made it clear that he cannot mistreat you and get away with it”. In addition to that, the man is a catch according to the lame Egyptian standards; he’s tall enough for me to never be his height no matter how high my heels are, he’s athletic, he has a career, drives a pricy car, and “shareeny”!!!!! Ya far7ety!!!!!!

Like all has been forgotten!!

Well I remember it all…

I remember how I first stumbled on each of his affairs…

I remember how my heart almost stopped the first time, I remember how hard I cried and I remember how abusive the confrontation was…

I remember that in the midst of all that I agreed to move out of the one home I ever belonged, so that his life would be easier and mine harder just to “be there for him” and “prove my love”…

I remember how my health kept deteriorating and how I kept going through one surgical procedure after the other, not to mention that my first c-section was due to severely high blood pressure which he caused in so many ways!

I remember how I made a huge fool out of myself forcing myself to believe his lies so that I can continue living with him only to stumble on more disturbing proofs of his lies…

I remember how my life turned to hell because I couldn’t trust him, and how humiliating it felt going through his messages and analyzing his words to find lies!

I remember how he finally stopped hiding his tracks and decided to do it all in the open and hide it by making me doubt my own sanity!

I remember wanting to die…

I remember the hospital fights, the worst postpartums, and the stitches that wouldn’t hold because of my constant sobbing!

I remember I almost caved in to all the pressures, and almost went back to him, more than once…

I remember each and every time I collapsed because I couldn’t…

I remember how angry he got because he couldn’t believe I rejected him after he “came clean”…

I remember the lies he said about me, lie after lie…

I remember how he said he no longer had kids, that they were dead to him, my kids…

I remember the ugliness that followed with his family showing their true color…

I remember my desperate cries and prayers and I remember very clearly the physical pain I went through in the process…

I remember how I managed to stand on my own two feet again, mostly with my father’s direct and indirect help and sometimes with my mom's and sisters', not to mention my friends…

I remember a lot of things that can make me angry all over again!! What people do not get is that the reason why I no longer get that angry is NOT because I am willing to go back; it’s because I realized I am too strong for him to break me and that I have nothing to fear of him.

I see how I bounced back, and I am proud of myself for it. I realize my losses and the damages he caused and I am ok with them. I have moved on, and knowing that, I can handle seeing him every day if I have to, as long as I am no longer his wife and I do not have to answer to him when it comes to my life.

It’s that simple, but people keep making their own assumptions about my feelings according to the expected behavior of women in my society, and the more I try to explain it, the more complicated it gets!! Look at how long that post have got when I tried explaining something so simple!!!

Sorry about that!

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

I have a serious temper problem…

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

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

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


I am stubborn, very stubborn…

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


I am too proud…

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

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

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

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


I am crystal clear…

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


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

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

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

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

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


Conclusion…

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

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

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

If it’s any consolation, it hurts.

Touché

Sometimes, the fastest way to lose loved ones is by loving them to an extent where you start having expectations they can never meet.

This year, I lost two.

I know it’s a year because I remember being introduced to someone in January 2008 and those two were mentioned. I remember saying I loved those two so dearly that there was nothing in the world I wouldn’t give to them.

If I am asked the same question today, I’d say “they’re good people, God bless them” as I fight my tears and swallow that big lump.

I thought unloving my x was the hardest thing I had to do because he was “the one” or “the love of my life”! Obviously, that kind of love is overrated and it fades out when all the reasons cease to exist! Not to mention that the x went to extreme measures to earn his title as one hell of a jerk who has no ethics.

It hurts more to detach and disassociate from someone for whom you still care and love, and force yourself to stop caring, yet somehow still love them in a way!

It hurts much more when those people are decent and kind except that they still disappointed you in a way you can’t really handle!

It hurts to know that you might have caused it just as well.

It hurts in so many ways…

Because a part of you still wants to think it’s temporary, while the other part tell you it’s not, with proof…

Because you don’t know how to behave; pretend like nothing is wrong at least until you know you’re completely withdrawn, or show all the frustration and disappointment to ensure that there's no way back; that you won’t soften and get hurt further…

Hurt those once loved ones by telling them to their faces how you will no longer care, or let them hurt as they wonder what could have possibly happened to your relationship…

What hurts the most is that you keep asking “Did they notice? Does it hurt them too?” and you’re too scared to find out, because if the answer is yes, you’ll feel bad; however, you’ll feel much worse if the answer is no! and you can’t really stop wondering because you care.

It’s a sad and pathetic mixture of anger, disappointment, guilt, and linger… on top of all, you’re too proud to admit having that much conflict over a decision you've already made to preserve that pride!