I had it again…the same type of dream. I have not been getting a lot of sleep these past few days. You know…one of the worst dreams for me to have is a ‘feeling dream’. They are the dreams where you replay feelings that you once felt…negative feelings. They come out while you are sleeping and you feel them to be so real…you feel the same anxiety that you once felt years ago. It is very exhausting.
One of the worst feelings for me throughout this whole relationship was the fear that my mother would find out. My nightmares during high school or when I was at home from university during the summers, would be of him being in my bedroom or in the basement, while my mom is asleep in her room…she would then wake up and somehow even though she senses something…nothing happens. Either she doesn’t see him because he runs away and I cover the tracks, or he makes up a lie and she buys it, or, circumstances make it so that things were not able to be apparent to her.
Today, when I hear any lecture or anyone speak about parents…especially mothers…I am brought to a state of weakness instantly. I wasted so many years. Instead of loving my mother…I resented her. I was hurt by her. I was afraid of her. I was running away from her. And he would say things that would make me believe she is a bad mother to me. He would fill my head with stories about how my mother loved my siblings more than I….that I had a purer heart than my mother…that she was evil. He would say that I was more mature than my own mother - that my mom controlled me to the extent that I was mothering my own mother. Yes…for the duration of the relationship, this is what he would say. And I suppose he would go through moments of guilt for filling my mind with these stories because every once in a while he would ask ‘who loves you most in the world?’…when I said him, he would say ‘No, its your mother’. A contradiction. So many contradictions.
In today’s dream, the same thing happened. I was in my home doing some work. He then comes over and asks me to go to the next room. He has made sure no one is at home and wants to get intimate. I am disgusted. I do not want to do this again. He is weak and needy…I told him…”enjoy this because this is the last time you will see me like this. I’m done. This, you won’t see again,” as I pointed to my body…and it looked the way it does now. “I’m done” I told him. “I’m done”.
Before anything happens we hear a sound – I go out of the room and subhnallah my mom is on the couch. She apparently came back home and acted like she was napping for a while. She says I heard his voice..I said, “Who? Mom, you’re hearing things” – and while I am talking to my mom he slips out of the room and runs away. I am burdened by the fact that I was so close to being caught, but even more in pain that my mom buys my story. Each time she bought my story.
Alas, though….in my dream I told him “I’m done”…and I truly believe I am done Alhamdulillah. That’s it. I am not afraid of him anymore…and I only recount these memories to get them off my chest forever, and to help whoever is reading if possible. God has opened a new path for me...and I can have a future without feeling the burden of guilt towards Him because of this relationship, Inshallah.
I am hoping that somehow I serve my mother in ways she cannot imagine…so that I may be internally cleansed from the years of hate he made me feel towards her; for my anger towards her for not noticing; and, for all those years and years of lies…deception…running away…I was a fugitive…the best of con-artists. I played dodge-mom for almost ten years of my life. Its time for her now. She is my door to heaven. It was not her fault…I was a good liar, as was he…and she just couldn’t see. It’s not her fault.
Sometimes we look to others to blame for our problems. But, quite frankly, sometimes things just happen. Either way everything happens for a reason. Maybe the reason why my mother didn’t notice was because she was not supposed to. What am I going to do with my life now that I am stronger, and now that I can look back as an observer? Who needs to hear this story and who do I need to touch through the lessons it gave me?
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Double Faced.
When I was in high school, I had not yet taken on the hijab. However, I was active in the Muslim community. I used to teach at the local mosque, was an avid volunteer, and lobbied for prayer space in my high school during Ramadan. When I joined university, I immediately become a member of the Muslim Students Association - the best years of my life. I attended regular lectures, study circles and numerous spiritual development programs.
I always knew that I was going to take on the hijab, but he was certainly integral in encouraging me to do so. His method was amazing – never forced me, but would mention the numerous university educated women that took on the hijab over and over. He asked me why it was that so many of them put it on if it was not important…he told me that it was because they were educated and studied Islam, and therefore understood its virtue.
I put on the hijab during my first year of university. It was a blessing and continues to be one, and one of the best things I did for myself and my faith.
As we know – hijab is more than just a piece of cloth over one’s head…and, when the desire to put it on is not forced upon you, there is nothing more comforting. It is a complete way of life…u grow closer to God; you feel Him in your life ever time you step out of the door; you are in an ever ready state for worship…whenever and wherever you can just get down to pray; and you feel uplifted. Hijab was not easy when I first put it on because I wanted to make sure I was doing it right. I stopped bobbing to music when in public and began walking with a lowered gaze. I changed my whole wardrobe….I was one of the long skirt and baggy blouse wearing “hijabis”. I never second guessed my decision. But, I did know I was being double faced.
You see, no one knew. Anyone who saw me could have made the false assumption that I did nothing ‘wrong’. I was active in the community, appeared pious in my actions and didn’t engage in wrong for them to see it. How wrong were they? I knew I was a walking contradiction because my private life was anything but modest. I had my hijab on to everyone in the world, but him. I was in university at that point so I had managed to make myself feel less guilty about the whole relationship than earlier, but I was well aware that I was different from all my friends. They would have never believed me…and I’m sure will be shocked if I reveal it to them now...I don't think they could ever imagine the life I was leading behind their eyes.
I was part of a religious circle for girls….one of our tasks was to memorize a portion of the Quran. I had such a difficult time doing that…it was very difficult for me to memorize even one verse, and I was in owe of my friends who seemed to get through it with such ease. Once I was at an Islamic lecture and the speaker made reference to this…he said, ‘if you are having trouble memorizing the Quran, then you must look at your life and see where you need to improve….what sins you are committing’. I sunk in my seat and lowered my head in shame…I knew why I was not able to memorize….I was double faced.
When I think of how people must have viewed me versus what was happening in my private life, I internalized (and continue to hold strong) the understanding that you should never judge a book by its cover. Everyone has a story. There is no saint. I was not only engaged in the relationship, but I would lie to my friends and family about my whereabouts, and I would make sure there was no way anyone could find out...deception. a lot of deception.
Despite the wrong that he initiated, I wonder how much reward he will get for actually encouraging me to put on the hijab. What is more ironic than the guider towards light, also being the leader towards hell?
I always knew that I was going to take on the hijab, but he was certainly integral in encouraging me to do so. His method was amazing – never forced me, but would mention the numerous university educated women that took on the hijab over and over. He asked me why it was that so many of them put it on if it was not important…he told me that it was because they were educated and studied Islam, and therefore understood its virtue.
I put on the hijab during my first year of university. It was a blessing and continues to be one, and one of the best things I did for myself and my faith.
As we know – hijab is more than just a piece of cloth over one’s head…and, when the desire to put it on is not forced upon you, there is nothing more comforting. It is a complete way of life…u grow closer to God; you feel Him in your life ever time you step out of the door; you are in an ever ready state for worship…whenever and wherever you can just get down to pray; and you feel uplifted. Hijab was not easy when I first put it on because I wanted to make sure I was doing it right. I stopped bobbing to music when in public and began walking with a lowered gaze. I changed my whole wardrobe….I was one of the long skirt and baggy blouse wearing “hijabis”. I never second guessed my decision. But, I did know I was being double faced.
You see, no one knew. Anyone who saw me could have made the false assumption that I did nothing ‘wrong’. I was active in the community, appeared pious in my actions and didn’t engage in wrong for them to see it. How wrong were they? I knew I was a walking contradiction because my private life was anything but modest. I had my hijab on to everyone in the world, but him. I was in university at that point so I had managed to make myself feel less guilty about the whole relationship than earlier, but I was well aware that I was different from all my friends. They would have never believed me…and I’m sure will be shocked if I reveal it to them now...I don't think they could ever imagine the life I was leading behind their eyes.
I was part of a religious circle for girls….one of our tasks was to memorize a portion of the Quran. I had such a difficult time doing that…it was very difficult for me to memorize even one verse, and I was in owe of my friends who seemed to get through it with such ease. Once I was at an Islamic lecture and the speaker made reference to this…he said, ‘if you are having trouble memorizing the Quran, then you must look at your life and see where you need to improve….what sins you are committing’. I sunk in my seat and lowered my head in shame…I knew why I was not able to memorize….I was double faced.
When I think of how people must have viewed me versus what was happening in my private life, I internalized (and continue to hold strong) the understanding that you should never judge a book by its cover. Everyone has a story. There is no saint. I was not only engaged in the relationship, but I would lie to my friends and family about my whereabouts, and I would make sure there was no way anyone could find out...deception. a lot of deception.
Despite the wrong that he initiated, I wonder how much reward he will get for actually encouraging me to put on the hijab. What is more ironic than the guider towards light, also being the leader towards hell?
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Murderer
"I don't want to be...a murderer"
I used to sing that line with so much passion when Rihanna came out with Unfaithful...I was obsessed with the song. I would watch the video and especially the last scene where she gives her boyfriend a hug and looks at the camera with those eyes - showing her guilt...I used to feel like that. I would go to my friends and sing "I ammmm a murdererrrr" and no one knew what I was talking about. They knew the song - that she is saying she is a murderer because she is playing her boyfriend and he loves her terribly...but they didn't know why I was saying the same thing.
These past few weeks I'm going through so many realizations. I had another night of sleeplessness last night. I have never had insomnia like I did yesterday. And the crux of the issue is about my role in the relationship.
You see, even in those moments as a young girl when I knew the relationship should stop, I wouldn't be able to pull myself out completely because I always felt guilty. 'He loves me', I would think to myself...'he does so much...how can I just leave him? Betray him'. I felt responsible. So, as I grew up and was in university, the same feeling of guilt was what kept me holding on even when I wanted to let go.
But, I knew that one day I'd have to let go. I knew that I wanted a family. I didn't want to have to anger my parents. I didn't want to run away. I knew that one day my heart would change...that I would fall out of whatever I was in. I knew that one day I would get tired of the feeling of displeasing God. That feeling in itself made me feel like a murderer. I envisioned that when I did move away, when I finally decided to let go, that he would become a zombie. He would have no joy in his life. I would have murdered him while he was still alive. And, I only said this because that is what he would repeat to me over and over. He made me feel like I was his lifeline. Without me, he would be dead.
But now that I look back - whether it was intentional on his part or not - I find it ironic. Here, a man that was taking advantage of me had actually managed to make me feel like the predator and him the victim. And so I would sing...'I don't want to be a murdererrrr'...while not knowing that he was holding the weapon, not I. And although I would sing that song, I never played him. For almost ten years of my life...there was no man but him. I didn't even have real crushes. But still, I felt I was killing him just by thinking that one day I'd leave him.
I realize now that much of why this relationship dragged on for so long was because of the concept of loving oneself. I think at that time I didn't love myself...rather, I loved him for loving me...I 'needed' him for that love. Do I love myself now? I think so...I think I'm finally trying to sit in the drivers' seat of my own life.
If the victim feels like the enemy, does it mean that they do not love themselves? Is this what causes them to put another's needs before their own?
I used to sing that line with so much passion when Rihanna came out with Unfaithful...I was obsessed with the song. I would watch the video and especially the last scene where she gives her boyfriend a hug and looks at the camera with those eyes - showing her guilt...I used to feel like that. I would go to my friends and sing "I ammmm a murdererrrr" and no one knew what I was talking about. They knew the song - that she is saying she is a murderer because she is playing her boyfriend and he loves her terribly...but they didn't know why I was saying the same thing.
These past few weeks I'm going through so many realizations. I had another night of sleeplessness last night. I have never had insomnia like I did yesterday. And the crux of the issue is about my role in the relationship.
You see, even in those moments as a young girl when I knew the relationship should stop, I wouldn't be able to pull myself out completely because I always felt guilty. 'He loves me', I would think to myself...'he does so much...how can I just leave him? Betray him'. I felt responsible. So, as I grew up and was in university, the same feeling of guilt was what kept me holding on even when I wanted to let go.
But, I knew that one day I'd have to let go. I knew that I wanted a family. I didn't want to have to anger my parents. I didn't want to run away. I knew that one day my heart would change...that I would fall out of whatever I was in. I knew that one day I would get tired of the feeling of displeasing God. That feeling in itself made me feel like a murderer. I envisioned that when I did move away, when I finally decided to let go, that he would become a zombie. He would have no joy in his life. I would have murdered him while he was still alive. And, I only said this because that is what he would repeat to me over and over. He made me feel like I was his lifeline. Without me, he would be dead.
But now that I look back - whether it was intentional on his part or not - I find it ironic. Here, a man that was taking advantage of me had actually managed to make me feel like the predator and him the victim. And so I would sing...'I don't want to be a murdererrrr'...while not knowing that he was holding the weapon, not I. And although I would sing that song, I never played him. For almost ten years of my life...there was no man but him. I didn't even have real crushes. But still, I felt I was killing him just by thinking that one day I'd leave him.
I realize now that much of why this relationship dragged on for so long was because of the concept of loving oneself. I think at that time I didn't love myself...rather, I loved him for loving me...I 'needed' him for that love. Do I love myself now? I think so...I think I'm finally trying to sit in the drivers' seat of my own life.
If the victim feels like the enemy, does it mean that they do not love themselves? Is this what causes them to put another's needs before their own?
Friday, November 19, 2010
Eighteen, the Phases and the Friend.
After about 9 years of being in a relationship with him, I made a decision to relocate. We had a mutual understanding that if we were meant to be together forever, our paths would cross again somehow. Despite the amount of love I had for him when I moved - as will be understood by the time you finish reading this post - I had reached a point where I realized that him and I would never be. I wanted to settle down and start a family one day, and I knew that because it would not be him, I had to settle for someone other than him. It was the most difficult decision of my life, but it was mutual. It was during this move that I met my friend.
Every once in a while, you meet someone in your life whom you just have an immediate affinity towards. After spending just a few occasions together – or even from the first one – you automatically know that you want this person to be part of your life. And, for some reason you feel like you want to talk to them about your life. You find comfort in their listening ears.
A few years ago I met someone like that. She has grown to be an important part of my life and I suppose she doesn’t really understand how much I do need her and value her presence. Only a few weeks into our relationship, I decided to tell her about him. I was 23 as I spoke of this story to her.
I am not sure whether or not if someone would replay the initial conversation that I had with her about him, they would think that I am the same person, or that I am discussing the same story. I often see this relationship, and my journey through it, in two phases. One during high school and one post high school. My outlook on my relationship with him while living these two stages in my life were so completely different. Polar opposites.
By the time I turned 18, I didn’t question the relationship at all. I was totally convinced that he was the man of my dreams, and that our biggest test in life was that societal norms and family pressure would mean that our love would be forsaken and we would never be able to be together. If we were to end up together, it would mean that we would have to be ex-communicated and leave our families. I knew that I wasn’t strong enough to go through that. He was ever ready.
During my first year living in residence, a couple of hours away from where he was, I found comfort in him coming to visit me almost every week. I was old enough to feel like he was my man and if people saw us together I would introduce him as my fiancé. I longed for him to come over, and for us to eat out and spend time together…to reflect on life together. He would shower me with love, and I in turn would shower him with the same. He would help me brainstorm my essays, and I would teach him what I was learning at university. I made sure he knew my every step during the day. Our phone bills would reach far into the hundreds. But, it didn’t matter. We were in love. ‘True love’, I convinced myself.
By the time I was 18, I had no doubt about the relationship. I had no anger. No confusion. Only love. I would thank God for his presence in my life, and my tears would not be ones from a heavy heart about why he was doing what he was to me, but rather why we wouldn’t be able to be together like a normal couple for the rest of our lives. I truly felt that he was a God send – a divine gift. Our love was paralleled with my spiritual journey towards Allah.
How did I reach this stage? I believe that after years of push and pull (from 13-18 for me), we humans honestly reach a stage where despite the pressure, we finally convince ourselves that it’s not as bad as we make it out to be. Each moment I prolonged during the first five years, my body’s and my heart’s defense mechanisms only grew weaker. I lowered my guard – because I realized that having my guard up and resisting did not change anything – it simply exhausted me. And so, overtime, I become blinded from the bad – I forgot about the pressure. In fact, once I entered university, if ever he would talk about the start of the relationship, I would tell him to stop. I did not want to remember. I feel that I experienced a phase of selective amnesia – the relationship was only good, and about good.
And so, from the age of 18, I thought I was Juliet and he Romeo. Honestly. As I sat with my friend and recounted, I told her the story of a man in love with a girl so many years his junior, and a girl in love with a man, so many years her senior. I described how despite how much they loved each other, society would not understand because of the age difference, and because my family would never approve of the marriage. I am sure her heart softened up to him as I described his romance with me, his constant praise and support and the amount of spoiling he would offer me. ‘This is from him, and this and this and this….’ I would say as I proudly revealed his gifts to me.
At that time, when I would recount my story I would be moved to tears as I reflected on why we weren’t together and why I had to taste the sweetness of his love in the first place if it would not be eternal. You see, I was living post high school phase. I remembered nothing of the beginnings of the relationship…nothing of the disgust I feel now when I think of things retrospectively.
Meeting my friend was a very important thing in my life. She opened my eyes and I honestly feel that God brought her into my life when I truly needed her strength. She came into my life at the moment I had made a decision to move away from him, and if it wasn’t for how she helped open my eyes and put life into perspective, I wonder if I would still be experiencing the selective amnesia that I mentioned – perhaps I would have already taken the leap and been with him by now. As our relationship grew, I would tell her more and more about my relationship, and it was during my reflections with her that I began recalling my feelings during high school.
I wonder what she thinks about my journey. I wonder what you, my readers think about the polar opposite phases I experienced. Why do you think I forgot about the pressure I felt during high school once I moved away for university? What was it about turning 18 that blinded me from the negative feelings that existed at the start, but that I remember now?
Every once in a while, you meet someone in your life whom you just have an immediate affinity towards. After spending just a few occasions together – or even from the first one – you automatically know that you want this person to be part of your life. And, for some reason you feel like you want to talk to them about your life. You find comfort in their listening ears.
A few years ago I met someone like that. She has grown to be an important part of my life and I suppose she doesn’t really understand how much I do need her and value her presence. Only a few weeks into our relationship, I decided to tell her about him. I was 23 as I spoke of this story to her.
I am not sure whether or not if someone would replay the initial conversation that I had with her about him, they would think that I am the same person, or that I am discussing the same story. I often see this relationship, and my journey through it, in two phases. One during high school and one post high school. My outlook on my relationship with him while living these two stages in my life were so completely different. Polar opposites.
By the time I turned 18, I didn’t question the relationship at all. I was totally convinced that he was the man of my dreams, and that our biggest test in life was that societal norms and family pressure would mean that our love would be forsaken and we would never be able to be together. If we were to end up together, it would mean that we would have to be ex-communicated and leave our families. I knew that I wasn’t strong enough to go through that. He was ever ready.
During my first year living in residence, a couple of hours away from where he was, I found comfort in him coming to visit me almost every week. I was old enough to feel like he was my man and if people saw us together I would introduce him as my fiancé. I longed for him to come over, and for us to eat out and spend time together…to reflect on life together. He would shower me with love, and I in turn would shower him with the same. He would help me brainstorm my essays, and I would teach him what I was learning at university. I made sure he knew my every step during the day. Our phone bills would reach far into the hundreds. But, it didn’t matter. We were in love. ‘True love’, I convinced myself.
By the time I was 18, I had no doubt about the relationship. I had no anger. No confusion. Only love. I would thank God for his presence in my life, and my tears would not be ones from a heavy heart about why he was doing what he was to me, but rather why we wouldn’t be able to be together like a normal couple for the rest of our lives. I truly felt that he was a God send – a divine gift. Our love was paralleled with my spiritual journey towards Allah.
How did I reach this stage? I believe that after years of push and pull (from 13-18 for me), we humans honestly reach a stage where despite the pressure, we finally convince ourselves that it’s not as bad as we make it out to be. Each moment I prolonged during the first five years, my body’s and my heart’s defense mechanisms only grew weaker. I lowered my guard – because I realized that having my guard up and resisting did not change anything – it simply exhausted me. And so, overtime, I become blinded from the bad – I forgot about the pressure. In fact, once I entered university, if ever he would talk about the start of the relationship, I would tell him to stop. I did not want to remember. I feel that I experienced a phase of selective amnesia – the relationship was only good, and about good.
And so, from the age of 18, I thought I was Juliet and he Romeo. Honestly. As I sat with my friend and recounted, I told her the story of a man in love with a girl so many years his junior, and a girl in love with a man, so many years her senior. I described how despite how much they loved each other, society would not understand because of the age difference, and because my family would never approve of the marriage. I am sure her heart softened up to him as I described his romance with me, his constant praise and support and the amount of spoiling he would offer me. ‘This is from him, and this and this and this….’ I would say as I proudly revealed his gifts to me.
At that time, when I would recount my story I would be moved to tears as I reflected on why we weren’t together and why I had to taste the sweetness of his love in the first place if it would not be eternal. You see, I was living post high school phase. I remembered nothing of the beginnings of the relationship…nothing of the disgust I feel now when I think of things retrospectively.
Meeting my friend was a very important thing in my life. She opened my eyes and I honestly feel that God brought her into my life when I truly needed her strength. She came into my life at the moment I had made a decision to move away from him, and if it wasn’t for how she helped open my eyes and put life into perspective, I wonder if I would still be experiencing the selective amnesia that I mentioned – perhaps I would have already taken the leap and been with him by now. As our relationship grew, I would tell her more and more about my relationship, and it was during my reflections with her that I began recalling my feelings during high school.
I wonder what she thinks about my journey. I wonder what you, my readers think about the polar opposite phases I experienced. Why do you think I forgot about the pressure I felt during high school once I moved away for university? What was it about turning 18 that blinded me from the negative feelings that existed at the start, but that I remember now?
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Karate Release.
I'm laying in bed and am on my smart phone. While I feel full from the inside...a part of me is empty. I get like this once a month when I miss God. I'm not ready to fall asleep yet. So let me write.
I'm under the blanket and the room is dark. A familiar scene. As a girl growing up, the most powerful lyrics for me were this: "Don't you know my tears will burn the pillow..set this place on fire cause Im tired of your lies" (from All Cried Out by En Vouge). I spent a lot of nights...a lot...crying myself to sleep. Its like a battle in your insides. Your heart is hurt, your mind is confused, your body is unsure...you are just fighting a war inside you. I sleep with my face into the pillow...its just the way sleep...but I think it began to stop myself from feeling the tears roll down my face...if they fall right into the pillow, the reality of their existence is truncated.
I recently joined karate. It has been a moving experience. The first day, I put so much passion into each kick, each punch, that I felt as if memories that we buried down for so long just resurfaced. It was tiring....exhausting. The trainer even commented that I was fierce..he asked 'you sure this isn't a therapy session?' I didn't think it was...but that night and for two nights after I couldn't sleep. Too much pain was coming out...too much anger...I was awaken every few hours from body-jerks. All I wanted to do was wake up the next morning to kick and punch some more.
But who is this anger directed towards? Is it to him? Yes of course...but its not that I imagine his face being punched in and his nose bleeding. No. Rather, I imagine fighting all my internal battles. Punching them till I come out victorious. Showing myself that I am stronger than who I thought I was. Proving to him that he had no right to corner me the way he did. Karate has surely become therapeutic.
I no longer think of him when I'm at the club, but I do know why I have so much passion for the art. No one should ever make you feel so weak, so vulnerable that you don't know what to do to fix your situation... or worse, how to get out of it. No one has that right. I often wonder whether if I was physically strong I would have been able to pull out a lot sooner than I did. If whether I was stronger outside, I would have found the strength inside to calm my confusion and ask myself what I really wanted.
They are both connected...your internal and external strength. One without the other renders both suboptimal. Would I have left if I felt stronger? I think so. I just regret not having realized that till now.
I'm under the blanket and the room is dark. A familiar scene. As a girl growing up, the most powerful lyrics for me were this: "Don't you know my tears will burn the pillow..set this place on fire cause Im tired of your lies" (from All Cried Out by En Vouge). I spent a lot of nights...a lot...crying myself to sleep. Its like a battle in your insides. Your heart is hurt, your mind is confused, your body is unsure...you are just fighting a war inside you. I sleep with my face into the pillow...its just the way sleep...but I think it began to stop myself from feeling the tears roll down my face...if they fall right into the pillow, the reality of their existence is truncated.
I recently joined karate. It has been a moving experience. The first day, I put so much passion into each kick, each punch, that I felt as if memories that we buried down for so long just resurfaced. It was tiring....exhausting. The trainer even commented that I was fierce..he asked 'you sure this isn't a therapy session?' I didn't think it was...but that night and for two nights after I couldn't sleep. Too much pain was coming out...too much anger...I was awaken every few hours from body-jerks. All I wanted to do was wake up the next morning to kick and punch some more.
But who is this anger directed towards? Is it to him? Yes of course...but its not that I imagine his face being punched in and his nose bleeding. No. Rather, I imagine fighting all my internal battles. Punching them till I come out victorious. Showing myself that I am stronger than who I thought I was. Proving to him that he had no right to corner me the way he did. Karate has surely become therapeutic.
I no longer think of him when I'm at the club, but I do know why I have so much passion for the art. No one should ever make you feel so weak, so vulnerable that you don't know what to do to fix your situation... or worse, how to get out of it. No one has that right. I often wonder whether if I was physically strong I would have been able to pull out a lot sooner than I did. If whether I was stronger outside, I would have found the strength inside to calm my confusion and ask myself what I really wanted.
They are both connected...your internal and external strength. One without the other renders both suboptimal. Would I have left if I felt stronger? I think so. I just regret not having realized that till now.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Hands Clean.
These are the lyrics to Alanis Morissette’s ‘Hands Clean’
If it weren't for your maturity none of this would have happened
If you weren't so wise beyond your years I would've been able to control myself
If it weren't for my attention you wouldn't have been successful and
If it weren't for me you would never have amounted to very much
Ooh this could be messy and
Ooh I don't seem to mind
Ooh don't go telling everybody
And overlook this supposed crime
We'll fast forward to a few years later
And no one knows except the both of us
And I have honored your request for silence
And you've washed your hands clean of this
You're essentially an employee and I like you having to depend on me
You're kind of my protégé and one day you'll say you learned all you know from me
I know you depend on me like a young thing would to a guardian
I know you sexualize me like a young thing would and I think I like it
Just make sure you don't tell on me especially to members of your family
We best keep this to ourselves and not tell any members of our inner posse
I wish I could tell the world cuz you're such a pretty thing when you're done up properly
I might want to marry you one day if you watch that weight and keep your firm body
My friend and I were talking about this song and I told her that I think it’s about abuse. She replied saying that she thinks it’s about a woman who knows what she is getting out of a relationship, and despite its negativity at times, she has decided to put up with it because that is what she wants. “You always see things differently – as if the woman is always the victim and innocent” she told me.
It is interesting how our life experiences shape how we view the world. It’s true…I am an advocate for women's right, and I always lean in favour of the woman’s innocence. It is what I have come to know.
When I first heard this song, it spoke to me.
It is him singing to me.
He always told me how mature I was, and how we should keep our relationship a secret. He would imply it being ‘messy’ because of the age difference and proximity, but he continued to ‘overlook this supposed crime’.
Once he asked me what I would do if I would become pregnant by mistake. First, I figured it was impossible. How could we get pregnant if we never penetrated? But, I worried why he would ask me that. I thought about it and told him that I would never tell my parents it was him. He immediately jumped on the idea, “yes you should tell them you met some boy and this happened…a one-off thing”. He praised me for my reply. I explained that if I were ever to get pregnant out of marriage, my parents would already be upset by that… “there is no reason to make things worse by telling them by whom”.
I am always sympathetic to young girls who get pregnant before marriage. There are those girls that are overtly promiscuous and well aware of the risks that they expose themselves to on a regular basis. But there are others who somehow find themselves caught up in a mess. They do not know how things evolved, nor what to do about it.
On about two or three separate occasions my period was late. The stress and worry was unbearable. We both panicked and he bought me pregnancy tests each time. I couldn’t believe myself when I first tried it – I must have been in Grade 10 or 11. As I read the instructions and proceeded to use the test, it hit me how grave of an act I was involved in and how my life would change drastically if I did get pregnant.
Abortion in Islam is prohibited, but permitted if the mother’s life is put into danger by the pregnancy and, under some interpretations, if pregnancy has come about due to rape. I would wonder what God would think if I decided to get an abortion if I ever got pregnant. It’s a touchy subject for me - abortion for teenagers who get pregnant ‘by mistake’. Allahu A’alam. But God is Love and He knows hearts. If indeed what I was experiencing was abuse, I wonder how I would be judged by Him for having an abortion. I knew where the abortion clinic was. I did my research. If I did get pregnant, I certainly knew what I was going to do.
Writing this though, I think of how my friend interpreted this song. For her, it’s about a woman in a relationship who knows exactly what she wants. Maybe I knew all along. Maybe as I grew older it became less of abuse and more of a desire. Perhaps I did have more options and just chose to stay. May Allah forgive us. Am I trying to wash my hands clean by labeling this as abuse?
If it weren't for your maturity none of this would have happened
If you weren't so wise beyond your years I would've been able to control myself
If it weren't for my attention you wouldn't have been successful and
If it weren't for me you would never have amounted to very much
Ooh this could be messy and
Ooh I don't seem to mind
Ooh don't go telling everybody
And overlook this supposed crime
We'll fast forward to a few years later
And no one knows except the both of us
And I have honored your request for silence
And you've washed your hands clean of this
You're essentially an employee and I like you having to depend on me
You're kind of my protégé and one day you'll say you learned all you know from me
I know you depend on me like a young thing would to a guardian
I know you sexualize me like a young thing would and I think I like it
Just make sure you don't tell on me especially to members of your family
We best keep this to ourselves and not tell any members of our inner posse
I wish I could tell the world cuz you're such a pretty thing when you're done up properly
I might want to marry you one day if you watch that weight and keep your firm body
My friend and I were talking about this song and I told her that I think it’s about abuse. She replied saying that she thinks it’s about a woman who knows what she is getting out of a relationship, and despite its negativity at times, she has decided to put up with it because that is what she wants. “You always see things differently – as if the woman is always the victim and innocent” she told me.
It is interesting how our life experiences shape how we view the world. It’s true…I am an advocate for women's right, and I always lean in favour of the woman’s innocence. It is what I have come to know.
When I first heard this song, it spoke to me.
It is him singing to me.
He always told me how mature I was, and how we should keep our relationship a secret. He would imply it being ‘messy’ because of the age difference and proximity, but he continued to ‘overlook this supposed crime’.
Once he asked me what I would do if I would become pregnant by mistake. First, I figured it was impossible. How could we get pregnant if we never penetrated? But, I worried why he would ask me that. I thought about it and told him that I would never tell my parents it was him. He immediately jumped on the idea, “yes you should tell them you met some boy and this happened…a one-off thing”. He praised me for my reply. I explained that if I were ever to get pregnant out of marriage, my parents would already be upset by that… “there is no reason to make things worse by telling them by whom”.
I am always sympathetic to young girls who get pregnant before marriage. There are those girls that are overtly promiscuous and well aware of the risks that they expose themselves to on a regular basis. But there are others who somehow find themselves caught up in a mess. They do not know how things evolved, nor what to do about it.
On about two or three separate occasions my period was late. The stress and worry was unbearable. We both panicked and he bought me pregnancy tests each time. I couldn’t believe myself when I first tried it – I must have been in Grade 10 or 11. As I read the instructions and proceeded to use the test, it hit me how grave of an act I was involved in and how my life would change drastically if I did get pregnant.
Abortion in Islam is prohibited, but permitted if the mother’s life is put into danger by the pregnancy and, under some interpretations, if pregnancy has come about due to rape. I would wonder what God would think if I decided to get an abortion if I ever got pregnant. It’s a touchy subject for me - abortion for teenagers who get pregnant ‘by mistake’. Allahu A’alam. But God is Love and He knows hearts. If indeed what I was experiencing was abuse, I wonder how I would be judged by Him for having an abortion. I knew where the abortion clinic was. I did my research. If I did get pregnant, I certainly knew what I was going to do.
Writing this though, I think of how my friend interpreted this song. For her, it’s about a woman in a relationship who knows exactly what she wants. Maybe I knew all along. Maybe as I grew older it became less of abuse and more of a desire. Perhaps I did have more options and just chose to stay. May Allah forgive us. Am I trying to wash my hands clean by labeling this as abuse?
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Unnoticed.
I’d like to think that I only need to write in this blog when something is on my mind about my relationship. But today, I just feel like writing. From my heart. Even as I write this, I do not know what I want to say. Today I begin writing without a title already ready in my mind.
I went to inquire about laser hair removal right now – someone there was asking about hair growth around a woman’s nipple. The lady at the reception said it is normal and everyone has it, “women just shouldn’t pluck them once they get it because that will only stimulate growth”. The young lady replied “how come there are no campaigns about this? I wouldn’t have removed them if I knew any better.” The lady replied, “well, your mother should have told you”.
I guess one thing on my mind whenever I remember this relationship is why my mother didn’t notice. I received my first gold diamond ring from him when I was about 17. When I first wore it, I told my mom that it was a fake accessory I bought from Walmart. That one ring turned to about eighteen different rings, two sets of diamond studs, two pendants, a necklace and a whole bunch of electronics. Really? My mother didn’t notice that I was getting all this stuff and that there was no way I could possibly afford it on my own? Sometimes I find that really surprising. Why didn’t she notice? And, will I notice when I have a daughter if she is in the same position.
Once my mom suspected something. We were at a community gathering – friends and family all together playing games and eating. I was sitting at a table with some of my cousins, and him, playing Scrabble I believe. During the game, he started playing footsies with me. My mother, who was at the end of the room, spotted his foot on mine. As soon as she saw this, we both realized she saw, and I played it normal - as if I didn’t know his foot was on mine in the first place…we continued playing. When the game was over, my mother took me to the next room. I knew what was coming.
“Why was his foot on yours?” she said. I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about. She said she saw it and when she noticed, he moved his foot away. “I even see that he stares at you through the reflection in the window”. I told her I wasn’t aware of this, and even if he did it must have been a nudge because one of us made a good move during the game and it was a friendly show-off type of gesture – like ‘in your face’. From me, she bought it.
When we got home, I called him and told him what had happened. I told him to fix the situation. ‘You must’ I said. He told me not to worry and that he will deal with it. When I came back from school, he told me what he did to fix the situation – my mom never made mention of this to me. He actually went to the house, told my mom that I had told him what she had said, and he swore on the Quran that there was nothing to worry about and that he was surprised she thought that. That’s it.
Part of me never ever wanted my mother to know, but part of me also wanted her to find out because it would mean that we would have no choice but to stop this. It never happened. My parents have never been one to spy, and never made me feel judged or that I was doing something wrong - but sometimes turning a blind eye is not good. All those times I dodged her car as I snuck out of my co-op placement or school; all the times I snuck out of the house at night; all my late night phone calls…none of it – she caught none of it.
I always tell my friends that I’m the best liar. A sad reality, but it’s true. When your own mother can’t notice the biggest story that you’re living, you have to be good.
So, did she know the rings were fake? Or did she know I had someone but thought it was harmless? 'At least I was getting spoiled dirty out of it'. I have the perfect title for this post.
I went to inquire about laser hair removal right now – someone there was asking about hair growth around a woman’s nipple. The lady at the reception said it is normal and everyone has it, “women just shouldn’t pluck them once they get it because that will only stimulate growth”. The young lady replied “how come there are no campaigns about this? I wouldn’t have removed them if I knew any better.” The lady replied, “well, your mother should have told you”.
I guess one thing on my mind whenever I remember this relationship is why my mother didn’t notice. I received my first gold diamond ring from him when I was about 17. When I first wore it, I told my mom that it was a fake accessory I bought from Walmart. That one ring turned to about eighteen different rings, two sets of diamond studs, two pendants, a necklace and a whole bunch of electronics. Really? My mother didn’t notice that I was getting all this stuff and that there was no way I could possibly afford it on my own? Sometimes I find that really surprising. Why didn’t she notice? And, will I notice when I have a daughter if she is in the same position.
Once my mom suspected something. We were at a community gathering – friends and family all together playing games and eating. I was sitting at a table with some of my cousins, and him, playing Scrabble I believe. During the game, he started playing footsies with me. My mother, who was at the end of the room, spotted his foot on mine. As soon as she saw this, we both realized she saw, and I played it normal - as if I didn’t know his foot was on mine in the first place…we continued playing. When the game was over, my mother took me to the next room. I knew what was coming.
“Why was his foot on yours?” she said. I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about. She said she saw it and when she noticed, he moved his foot away. “I even see that he stares at you through the reflection in the window”. I told her I wasn’t aware of this, and even if he did it must have been a nudge because one of us made a good move during the game and it was a friendly show-off type of gesture – like ‘in your face’. From me, she bought it.
When we got home, I called him and told him what had happened. I told him to fix the situation. ‘You must’ I said. He told me not to worry and that he will deal with it. When I came back from school, he told me what he did to fix the situation – my mom never made mention of this to me. He actually went to the house, told my mom that I had told him what she had said, and he swore on the Quran that there was nothing to worry about and that he was surprised she thought that. That’s it.
Part of me never ever wanted my mother to know, but part of me also wanted her to find out because it would mean that we would have no choice but to stop this. It never happened. My parents have never been one to spy, and never made me feel judged or that I was doing something wrong - but sometimes turning a blind eye is not good. All those times I dodged her car as I snuck out of my co-op placement or school; all the times I snuck out of the house at night; all my late night phone calls…none of it – she caught none of it.
I always tell my friends that I’m the best liar. A sad reality, but it’s true. When your own mother can’t notice the biggest story that you’re living, you have to be good.
So, did she know the rings were fake? Or did she know I had someone but thought it was harmless? 'At least I was getting spoiled dirty out of it'. I have the perfect title for this post.
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