When I come back to this blog, it reminds me of the ebb and flow of waves...I come usually when I feel I need to.
I got an email today from Al Maghbrib Institute - an organization that is both an Islamic education institute and one that offers development training, amongst other things. They will be holding a seminar soon called Threads of Hope, and it is inspired by the story of Prophet Yusuf, Prophet Joseph in English, on how through studying his life, we can take many lessons.
Today Mohamed Al Shareef - the founder - sent this short 5-minute video: http://www.facebook.com/nationbuilder.prime
The message in the email was:
========================
But
The touch felt...
What was it? She asked herself
Icky.
Later
She started
crying.
Would you like to know how the life of Prophet Yusuf relates to this situation?
========================
Its ironic that I got this email right now. I saw his face in my dreams today...its because I saw pics of him yesterday. He looks exactly the same - forever young. The family have gone on a trip together (2 different families). Again his face in my dream was that of someone sad - as if remorseful. But yesterday, as I saw my cousins in the pictures (young girls in their middle to late teens), I wondered - just wondered - whether he was at it again.
The lesson from the life of Prophet Yusuf - announce it! Let it be known...speak to someone...hold the person accountable. I wonder if I ought to? Whether I should. Whether I can.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
No one needs to tell you.
My friend just found out she was not accepted into the PhD program she applied to. She was sure she would get in. I was sure for her. The other day I wanted to donate blood. I was rejected. They said I had low iron in my blood. The first thought that came into my head was 'I know my blood is good. I do not need a machine to tell me whether my blood is worthy or not'.
In the same light, you do not need anyone to tell you what you already know about yourself. To my friend...I know she is a scholar - a scholar and a half! No program needs to tell her that. She should know it...and deep inside she does know it - I know she does. No one should have to tell us we are beautiful on the outside for reassurance...because deep inside we know we are beautiful. No one needs to remind or dictate to us how pious or close to God we are...because deep inside we know where we stand when it comes to our spirituality. No one needs to validate that we are being wronged when we are wronged...because if we feel we are, then we are. Our hearts know.
Mirror mirror on the wall...I do not need you to tell me anything. The most honest of opinions come from deep within you - no sugar-coating and no exaggeration. You know. Know yourself.
In the same light, you do not need anyone to tell you what you already know about yourself. To my friend...I know she is a scholar - a scholar and a half! No program needs to tell her that. She should know it...and deep inside she does know it - I know she does. No one should have to tell us we are beautiful on the outside for reassurance...because deep inside we know we are beautiful. No one needs to remind or dictate to us how pious or close to God we are...because deep inside we know where we stand when it comes to our spirituality. No one needs to validate that we are being wronged when we are wronged...because if we feel we are, then we are. Our hearts know.
Mirror mirror on the wall...I do not need you to tell me anything. The most honest of opinions come from deep within you - no sugar-coating and no exaggeration. You know. Know yourself.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Abuse. (without the question mark).
I'm feeling very uneasy right now. I have a pile of work I need to finish for school that is due Thursday; my grandma is not feeling very well and is very weak; I have non-school things that I must get done this week too; and, my friends are coming to visit for the weekend so I need to make sure I'm done everything I need to by Thursday night. Bismillah...this will be quite the feat. Plus...I didn't workout for 2 days. That is not normal behaviour for me...it is as if something is out of place when I don't.
I'm also anxious because I've been meaning to write this post for a couple of days now and just never had the time. After the article was published on altmuslimah (see previous blog post on how I spoke to HEART)...I have been reading so many comments from readers on the story. At first, it was as if those comments were not about me at all. I felt like an observer, reading about Rania's story like everyone else. Then the comments on the blog began fluttering in...and a couple of emails were sent directly to me. It was a bit overwhelming. And, I cannot explain why.
When I see words of praise...of me being brave or strong....although I do appreciate it, it does not move me at all. I truly do not see brevity in what I am sharing. Instead, I just feel as if its the most natural thing for me to do. And strength...while I do feel stronger than before...I don't know...strength is something that comes from God alone and all credit is due to Him. Sometimes I feel very weak. Even the strongest of things face earthquakes once in a while. So I read the word, and move on. What I appreciate most about the dialogue that has emerged, however, is that I have been given a perspective I have not been exposed to ever before. I have not had anyone speak about the experience so openly and for them to share their thoughts in this way. It has been a lot to take in...but truly so important.
The other day, while walking to the Karate club, I thought to myself...'you know, what you experienced was abuse. and you were a victim of abuse.'
For the first time I feel like I can categorize the experience as abuse. One of the comments said that when we categorize what happened as a relationship, it masks the experience as something that was legitimate. And it was not legitimate. So, it should not be referred to by anything that gives it that impression. I agree.
Several comments talked about how it was certainly abuse, because when it began there was only one party that was able to make a free and informed decision. My going through with the experience...even it seemed 'consensual'...was not consent. There cannot have been consent on my part because neither was I making a free decision, nor an informed one. I was too young, and he was in a position of power - not only through age but also his status in my family and life.
Someone made a comment about my first post on this blog...about the experience I had where I was in sex-ed class in grade 9 and was asked the question about victims of sexual abuse feeling pleasure. The commenter wrote that that is part of the struggle...that victims of this type of abuse are stimulated sexually sometimes and the feelings that that gives our bodies confuses us. In our minds and hearts we know it is all wrong...but we are human with bodies that are stimulated by certain forms of touch or movement, and this is sometimes pleasurable, even in the most abusive of situations. Knowing that this was an issue that victims face - even victims of rape, the commenter wrote - certainly gave me a new perspective. Its like hearing...you can't stop your ears from hearing. Yes, we might not concentrate on what we are hearing, or we may try to block the sound...but we can't switch off our ears. Feelings of sexual stimulation are similar...and very very confusing and disturbing to a victim of abuse.
Another group of comments talked about how we do not do enough as a community to make sure that men know how they are supposed to treat women, and their responsibilities. We often tell our daughters to dress modestly...but how many families actually make it a point to give their sons robust training on how they need to treat women? And, when it comes to Muslim women in particular...if we are indeed one ummah, one family (and any Muslim organization will use the words 'sister' and 'brother' abundantly), then men must realize that they have a responsibility to make sure harm does not come to women in their community. They need to be raised to think like that...to internalize it and believe it to be true. - that I, as a 'brother' in Islam, must make sure I do what I can to ensure the comfort, safety and protection of my 'sister' in Islam. Please do not get me wrong...women do not 'need' to be taken care of by men - Allah is the Best of Protectors - but we live in a social word and if men adopted that mentality, I think a lot more good would exist. Call me idealistic, but no one can inhibit me from hoping.
Reading all the comments really made me see better how the whole experience was truly a form of abuse. I realize that I was so young when it started, that my youth was robbed off of me, and that even if I appeared to be consenting, I was not. And, the fact that this continued to adulthood was also not my fault...it started when I was so so young that it grew part of me - I was conditioned - and I could see no way out. And indeed, I saw no way out till I left the country...till I gave my mind a chance to develop independent of him. Alhamdulillah.
While walking to the Karate club, I also said one more thing to myself. I said 'you are also a survivor of abuse'. I enjoyed my workout that evening. Just the other day...given all these realizations, I was overwhelmed with gratitude to God for all the blessings He has given to me. Doors are opening all around me, and I feel nour (light) in my life. God is the Greatest of Planners and the best of Providers. I feel I am being given so much Alhamdulillah...and I am filled with humility for I do not know how I am deserving of it all. I am utterly humbled...
When I think of him, I picture him in a small room, almost like a box, with an 'innocent' look on his face. I do not know why but he is wearing a baby blue t-shirt...his eyes droopy and maybe a bit glossy from tears. He is wondering what has happened. I truly am disgusted by that man. How dare his image of innocence fill that space in my mind. I just want him to leave it. I hate that image.
I told my cousin that I spoke to HEART, and she wanted to be directed to the article. I refused. (I love her to death, but perhaps I was feeling a bit sensitive that day. I told her that I think she knows all the details that are required, so she does not need to read the article, nor this blog. Perhaps it was the way I was asked...but I thought to myself, 'hey, I am not a story book'.) But, she said one more thing that has got me thinking a lot. My cousin wrote "Insha'allah one day when you are ready, you will speak to him and tell him exactly how you feel about what he has done...because he needs to know so that he can feel your struggle...if he can at all". I don't care to ever speak to him. And even more, I do not care to hear whatever excuses he may give. If he doesn't feel my struggle, especially now with how things are...how I have cut him out of my life...then he certainly has major issues.
But what do you think? Should me facing him about all this be something on my list of things to do?
I'm also anxious because I've been meaning to write this post for a couple of days now and just never had the time. After the article was published on altmuslimah (see previous blog post on how I spoke to HEART)...I have been reading so many comments from readers on the story. At first, it was as if those comments were not about me at all. I felt like an observer, reading about Rania's story like everyone else. Then the comments on the blog began fluttering in...and a couple of emails were sent directly to me. It was a bit overwhelming. And, I cannot explain why.
When I see words of praise...of me being brave or strong....although I do appreciate it, it does not move me at all. I truly do not see brevity in what I am sharing. Instead, I just feel as if its the most natural thing for me to do. And strength...while I do feel stronger than before...I don't know...strength is something that comes from God alone and all credit is due to Him. Sometimes I feel very weak. Even the strongest of things face earthquakes once in a while. So I read the word, and move on. What I appreciate most about the dialogue that has emerged, however, is that I have been given a perspective I have not been exposed to ever before. I have not had anyone speak about the experience so openly and for them to share their thoughts in this way. It has been a lot to take in...but truly so important.
The other day, while walking to the Karate club, I thought to myself...'you know, what you experienced was abuse. and you were a victim of abuse.'
For the first time I feel like I can categorize the experience as abuse. One of the comments said that when we categorize what happened as a relationship, it masks the experience as something that was legitimate. And it was not legitimate. So, it should not be referred to by anything that gives it that impression. I agree.
Several comments talked about how it was certainly abuse, because when it began there was only one party that was able to make a free and informed decision. My going through with the experience...even it seemed 'consensual'...was not consent. There cannot have been consent on my part because neither was I making a free decision, nor an informed one. I was too young, and he was in a position of power - not only through age but also his status in my family and life.
Someone made a comment about my first post on this blog...about the experience I had where I was in sex-ed class in grade 9 and was asked the question about victims of sexual abuse feeling pleasure. The commenter wrote that that is part of the struggle...that victims of this type of abuse are stimulated sexually sometimes and the feelings that that gives our bodies confuses us. In our minds and hearts we know it is all wrong...but we are human with bodies that are stimulated by certain forms of touch or movement, and this is sometimes pleasurable, even in the most abusive of situations. Knowing that this was an issue that victims face - even victims of rape, the commenter wrote - certainly gave me a new perspective. Its like hearing...you can't stop your ears from hearing. Yes, we might not concentrate on what we are hearing, or we may try to block the sound...but we can't switch off our ears. Feelings of sexual stimulation are similar...and very very confusing and disturbing to a victim of abuse.
Another group of comments talked about how we do not do enough as a community to make sure that men know how they are supposed to treat women, and their responsibilities. We often tell our daughters to dress modestly...but how many families actually make it a point to give their sons robust training on how they need to treat women? And, when it comes to Muslim women in particular...if we are indeed one ummah, one family (and any Muslim organization will use the words 'sister' and 'brother' abundantly), then men must realize that they have a responsibility to make sure harm does not come to women in their community. They need to be raised to think like that...to internalize it and believe it to be true. - that I, as a 'brother' in Islam, must make sure I do what I can to ensure the comfort, safety and protection of my 'sister' in Islam. Please do not get me wrong...women do not 'need' to be taken care of by men - Allah is the Best of Protectors - but we live in a social word and if men adopted that mentality, I think a lot more good would exist. Call me idealistic, but no one can inhibit me from hoping.
Reading all the comments really made me see better how the whole experience was truly a form of abuse. I realize that I was so young when it started, that my youth was robbed off of me, and that even if I appeared to be consenting, I was not. And, the fact that this continued to adulthood was also not my fault...it started when I was so so young that it grew part of me - I was conditioned - and I could see no way out. And indeed, I saw no way out till I left the country...till I gave my mind a chance to develop independent of him. Alhamdulillah.
While walking to the Karate club, I also said one more thing to myself. I said 'you are also a survivor of abuse'. I enjoyed my workout that evening. Just the other day...given all these realizations, I was overwhelmed with gratitude to God for all the blessings He has given to me. Doors are opening all around me, and I feel nour (light) in my life. God is the Greatest of Planners and the best of Providers. I feel I am being given so much Alhamdulillah...and I am filled with humility for I do not know how I am deserving of it all. I am utterly humbled...
When I think of him, I picture him in a small room, almost like a box, with an 'innocent' look on his face. I do not know why but he is wearing a baby blue t-shirt...his eyes droopy and maybe a bit glossy from tears. He is wondering what has happened. I truly am disgusted by that man. How dare his image of innocence fill that space in my mind. I just want him to leave it. I hate that image.
I told my cousin that I spoke to HEART, and she wanted to be directed to the article. I refused. (I love her to death, but perhaps I was feeling a bit sensitive that day. I told her that I think she knows all the details that are required, so she does not need to read the article, nor this blog. Perhaps it was the way I was asked...but I thought to myself, 'hey, I am not a story book'.) But, she said one more thing that has got me thinking a lot. My cousin wrote "Insha'allah one day when you are ready, you will speak to him and tell him exactly how you feel about what he has done...because he needs to know so that he can feel your struggle...if he can at all". I don't care to ever speak to him. And even more, I do not care to hear whatever excuses he may give. If he doesn't feel my struggle, especially now with how things are...how I have cut him out of my life...then he certainly has major issues.
But what do you think? Should me facing him about all this be something on my list of things to do?
Thursday, March 17, 2011
shut down.
“You shut down all feeling because you are trying to avoid the pain. It helps you get through the immediate crisis and the trauma. But if they persist, if they go on for a long time, they become a problem and you don‟t feel much of anything. You numbed yourself from the pain, but you stunted your feelings, your warmth and your joy.”
Maria Yellow Horse Brave Heart
Maria Yellow Horse Brave Heart
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Raising Awareness
I recently spoke to HEART (Health Education, Advocacy, Research & Training for Women & Girls - http://www.heartwomenandgirls.org/)...an amazing grass-roots organization whose mission it is to empower women and girls in interfaith and community settings by building self-esteem and leadership through health and wellness.
I decided to contact HEART because they were the first organization that I had come across that emphasized, amongst other things, the importance of sexual education within Muslim communities. It was very difficult, but I ended up talking for almost two hours over the phone with the Co-Founder & Director of Programs. Butterflies were flying faster and faster in my tummy as the 'interview' day approached...and a few minutes before the call I prayed to God to make my speech eloquent so that the best message could be delivered.
Speaking was surprisingly natural - and every time I wanted to stop speaking, I would remember something else to say. You can read the first of a two-part article here - http://www.altmuslimah.com/a/b/gva/4206/, and the second part here - http://www.altmuslimah.com/a/b/gva/4209#disqus_thread.
I hope this is the first step to raising awareness of an issue that plagues our communities. Everything happens for a reason...the question is how can I be of benefit to society through this experience?
I decided to contact HEART because they were the first organization that I had come across that emphasized, amongst other things, the importance of sexual education within Muslim communities. It was very difficult, but I ended up talking for almost two hours over the phone with the Co-Founder & Director of Programs. Butterflies were flying faster and faster in my tummy as the 'interview' day approached...and a few minutes before the call I prayed to God to make my speech eloquent so that the best message could be delivered.
Speaking was surprisingly natural - and every time I wanted to stop speaking, I would remember something else to say. You can read the first of a two-part article here - http://www.altmuslimah.com/a/b/gva/4206/, and the second part here - http://www.altmuslimah.com/a/b/gva/4209#disqus_thread.
I hope this is the first step to raising awareness of an issue that plagues our communities. Everything happens for a reason...the question is how can I be of benefit to society through this experience?
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Poetic Reminiscing
Today I met a girl who is completing her final year of her PhD program in psychology. I asked her about 'a friend of mine' who experienced a long episode of sexual relations with a man 22 years her senior...something that began when she just became a teen. I asked her whether it is true that even if at first there are feelings of hate and anger toward the abuser, these emotions can turn into love and affection over time. 'Yes of course,' she said, 'it is a diagnosable syndrome'. Its a coping mechanism, and often seen in victims of abuse in war-torn areas...for example in cases where child soldiers begin to take on the opinions of their perpetrators, seeing them as victims...this is part of what eventually pushes the child soldiers to 'willfully' stand with them. Its what we do when we see no way out...when we have lost all hope.
I wrote this on September 22nd, 2007 - just a few weeks after I decided it was time for me to leave the country...to get away from the whole relationship:
========================
Purposeful Suffering
When I wake up
Immediate thoughts of you occupy my mind
I feel for the bangle we so carefully chose
And I think of the inscription that is now engraved in my heart
Your voice used to greet each new day with me
Now only memories of our past suffice
I am here
Living
Breathing
Even smiling
But in my heart I am lost
A sacrifice I call it
For God’s sake
But I often question this choice
The rationality behind the sorrow I feel
And the pain that I know you are living through
My outward is strong
A pillar
But the recitation of Quran
The stroke of a violin
The breeze of cold air on my face
These evoke images of you as I go through my day
Anyone who looks into my eyes knows I am not there
Alive but dead
My heart with you
And if I’m dead then you’ve already reached the eternal dwelling
My sadness is more your suffering
Be okay and perhaps I will be better
And know that when I go to sleep
I carefully put on your shirt
I know its not you
But it makes me feel closer
Safe
========================
A few weeks later I wrote 'Suboptimal'. He wanted to continue our relationship, even if it had to be long distance. I wrote this on October 11th, 2007, when I still was strong.
========================
Suboptimal
Love is something to look forward to
Something that brings joy to your life
Exactly what we once shared
But these last few weeks
This love has been but pain
My heart has become heavy
My face has aged
And my eyes are hollow
I look dead when I laugh
I no longer have an appetite
Any happiness is followed with guilt.
This is my personal suffering.
I don’t need anyone’s sympathy
But this love has now twisted
It’s not something I long for
It’s something I dread
I feel trapped by what I want to do
And what for emotion’s sake
I am being asked to do
It’s pointless
It’s too late
We will never have what we shared
Miles apart
Blocked by our consequence
We will not be able to reconcile
Reality stares at me in the face whenever you speak to me
Satisfaction without movement is no longer an option
For now let us move on with our lives
Let me find suboptimal love that will at least be accepted by others
Suboptimal love that will at least let me have the kids I long for
It’s not my fault you are apart at home
It’s not my fault you have no way to release
At least you have someone who is there with you
I still need to find my suboptimal.
========================
After this, the relationship did continue long-distance for about 6 months or so. I am not sure how long. I have forgotten.
I wrote this on September 22nd, 2007 - just a few weeks after I decided it was time for me to leave the country...to get away from the whole relationship:
========================
Purposeful Suffering
When I wake up
Immediate thoughts of you occupy my mind
I feel for the bangle we so carefully chose
And I think of the inscription that is now engraved in my heart
Your voice used to greet each new day with me
Now only memories of our past suffice
I am here
Living
Breathing
Even smiling
But in my heart I am lost
A sacrifice I call it
For God’s sake
But I often question this choice
The rationality behind the sorrow I feel
And the pain that I know you are living through
My outward is strong
A pillar
But the recitation of Quran
The stroke of a violin
The breeze of cold air on my face
These evoke images of you as I go through my day
Anyone who looks into my eyes knows I am not there
Alive but dead
My heart with you
And if I’m dead then you’ve already reached the eternal dwelling
My sadness is more your suffering
Be okay and perhaps I will be better
And know that when I go to sleep
I carefully put on your shirt
I know its not you
But it makes me feel closer
Safe
========================
A few weeks later I wrote 'Suboptimal'. He wanted to continue our relationship, even if it had to be long distance. I wrote this on October 11th, 2007, when I still was strong.
========================
Suboptimal
Love is something to look forward to
Something that brings joy to your life
Exactly what we once shared
But these last few weeks
This love has been but pain
My heart has become heavy
My face has aged
And my eyes are hollow
I look dead when I laugh
I no longer have an appetite
Any happiness is followed with guilt.
This is my personal suffering.
I don’t need anyone’s sympathy
But this love has now twisted
It’s not something I long for
It’s something I dread
I feel trapped by what I want to do
And what for emotion’s sake
I am being asked to do
It’s pointless
It’s too late
We will never have what we shared
Miles apart
Blocked by our consequence
We will not be able to reconcile
Reality stares at me in the face whenever you speak to me
Satisfaction without movement is no longer an option
For now let us move on with our lives
Let me find suboptimal love that will at least be accepted by others
Suboptimal love that will at least let me have the kids I long for
It’s not my fault you are apart at home
It’s not my fault you have no way to release
At least you have someone who is there with you
I still need to find my suboptimal.
========================
After this, the relationship did continue long-distance for about 6 months or so. I am not sure how long. I have forgotten.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Small accomplishments, not so small
I’m sitting with my back straight – straighter than I can remember it has been for a while. I just came from watching the King’s Speech. In the movie, King George the Sixth is being helped with his speech impediment. He stammers, and has been doing so since he was five or six. The movie is about him overcoming that with the help of someone who ends up taking on the role of a psychologist…but a friend at the core.
The last scene is of the first wartime speech being made by the King…and it was perfect. The actor did an amazing job. But I realized something as I watched him struggle as he made it happen…I realized that something that might look as ‘simple’ as giving a speech…(which by the way he gave not in front of an audience but in front of a microphone as it was being broad-casted on radio)…is not a small accomplishment for him. Some people might find it mundane to speak…but this movie helped me see that what some of us may take for granted is not necessarily the reality for others. It’s relative…accomplishments are relative. No one should compare…because you can’t compare.
Today I sit with my back straight because I accomplished something. I went to the movies alone.
I imagine that someone reading this might be frowning now, or a subtle smile perhaps…perhaps one eyebrow raised as if confused.
I have lived ‘alone’ since I moved for undergrad. 4 years I was in the dorms, and during my Masters too I lived in an apartment on my own…but, he was always a part of my life…age 13-23…I always get my time-lines mixed up…I can’t image it was 10 years…but I know we were ‘together’ throughout high school, throughout undergrad, and throughout my Masters, after which I moved abroad for a bit (which is when it ended).
Regardless…I suppose someone who doesn’t know this story might praise me for my ability to have been on my own for so long…or surprised and asking whether or not I miss my family when I am away. But you see…while we were together, I was never ever alone.
When I moved off to university, we were about an hour drive away from each other, but he would visit during the week sometimes, and almost every weekend I would take the bus down and we would be together. I was so busy on weekdays - I did nothing other than school work and attend whatever meetings I had to for the student groups I was part of. My leisure was spent with him…movies, going out, eating out…yes I’d do a bit of that with my girlfriends during the week…but, I never left campus. It was extremely rare to venture out into the city with my friends. I think I did it once in 4 years.
I grew very used to having someone so close to me. A friend recently asked me what animal I would be if I was asked to describe myself as one, and I said a spider…because I’m clingy. And I know why. I was just trained to be like that..I grew to being comfortable only when I have someone I am close with by my side. Our phone bills would go into the hundreds…when we were not together, he would know exactly where I was each minute. Literally..’I left class’, ‘I’m eating’, ‘I’m attending a meeting’, ‘I’m with my friends’...’I’m going to bed’. Everything.
When I moved countries, I was so blessed with a friend whom everyone knew we shared the same ‘web’…we were communicating and together constantly…and in so many ways I needed that to transition from him being the center of my life. Her friends became mine, we moved back here to attend more school…and now even her family is mine.
I messaged her today about the movie and she couldn’t come because she was busy. But I knew today was going to be different anyways when I woke up – and I knew I would go to the movies...and that I would be going alone. It was time. And I did.
It might sound simple to some of you who are reading this. Or, perhaps a bit odd. Here is someone who has lived away from family for so long…and still does..and someone who has traveled around and ‘been places’…but you know, despite all of that, I always had someone I cared for right with me. After him, it was this friend of mine. And, even though she is part of my life, I am finally learning how to do things on my own. I have never ever imagined that I would ever feel so proud of myself for going to the movies.
So why am I sitting with my back straight? Well, it’s because I’m slowly learning that I can do normal things without having to have someone stuck to me. For so long it was as if I was trained to always need someone by my side or in contact with me every single moment. But I'm internalizing that I am capable of handling things on my own. I am capable of doing things on my own if I want to even if others may not be able to. I do not need to rely on others all the time. I can make my own decisions. I can do it. And I’m not talking about do it in terms of being successful at school or what not…I’m talking about anything… I can even have fun on my own. I can go to the movies on my own.
I must add that as I left the house I couldn’t believe I was going to be doing this solo. I could have just grabbed my purse but I felt very empty as I walked towards the door...and a bit nervous. It’s as if I was buried under sand and I was coming out for the first time. I grabbed my school bag instead…laptop, journal, a couple of books…knew I wouldn’t need any of that. But still. I just felt I wanted some company.
Regardless. A small accomplishment to someone else…but to me…a huge step Alhamdulillah. Sort of reminds me of the first step on the moon :)
I think I have learned a big lesson today. Humans cannot be compared. What is big for me, may be trivial for you, and vice versa. Don’t you agree?
The last scene is of the first wartime speech being made by the King…and it was perfect. The actor did an amazing job. But I realized something as I watched him struggle as he made it happen…I realized that something that might look as ‘simple’ as giving a speech…(which by the way he gave not in front of an audience but in front of a microphone as it was being broad-casted on radio)…is not a small accomplishment for him. Some people might find it mundane to speak…but this movie helped me see that what some of us may take for granted is not necessarily the reality for others. It’s relative…accomplishments are relative. No one should compare…because you can’t compare.
Today I sit with my back straight because I accomplished something. I went to the movies alone.
I imagine that someone reading this might be frowning now, or a subtle smile perhaps…perhaps one eyebrow raised as if confused.
I have lived ‘alone’ since I moved for undergrad. 4 years I was in the dorms, and during my Masters too I lived in an apartment on my own…but, he was always a part of my life…age 13-23…I always get my time-lines mixed up…I can’t image it was 10 years…but I know we were ‘together’ throughout high school, throughout undergrad, and throughout my Masters, after which I moved abroad for a bit (which is when it ended).
Regardless…I suppose someone who doesn’t know this story might praise me for my ability to have been on my own for so long…or surprised and asking whether or not I miss my family when I am away. But you see…while we were together, I was never ever alone.
When I moved off to university, we were about an hour drive away from each other, but he would visit during the week sometimes, and almost every weekend I would take the bus down and we would be together. I was so busy on weekdays - I did nothing other than school work and attend whatever meetings I had to for the student groups I was part of. My leisure was spent with him…movies, going out, eating out…yes I’d do a bit of that with my girlfriends during the week…but, I never left campus. It was extremely rare to venture out into the city with my friends. I think I did it once in 4 years.
I grew very used to having someone so close to me. A friend recently asked me what animal I would be if I was asked to describe myself as one, and I said a spider…because I’m clingy. And I know why. I was just trained to be like that..I grew to being comfortable only when I have someone I am close with by my side. Our phone bills would go into the hundreds…when we were not together, he would know exactly where I was each minute. Literally..’I left class’, ‘I’m eating’, ‘I’m attending a meeting’, ‘I’m with my friends’...’I’m going to bed’. Everything.
When I moved countries, I was so blessed with a friend whom everyone knew we shared the same ‘web’…we were communicating and together constantly…and in so many ways I needed that to transition from him being the center of my life. Her friends became mine, we moved back here to attend more school…and now even her family is mine.
I messaged her today about the movie and she couldn’t come because she was busy. But I knew today was going to be different anyways when I woke up – and I knew I would go to the movies...and that I would be going alone. It was time. And I did.
It might sound simple to some of you who are reading this. Or, perhaps a bit odd. Here is someone who has lived away from family for so long…and still does..and someone who has traveled around and ‘been places’…but you know, despite all of that, I always had someone I cared for right with me. After him, it was this friend of mine. And, even though she is part of my life, I am finally learning how to do things on my own. I have never ever imagined that I would ever feel so proud of myself for going to the movies.
So why am I sitting with my back straight? Well, it’s because I’m slowly learning that I can do normal things without having to have someone stuck to me. For so long it was as if I was trained to always need someone by my side or in contact with me every single moment. But I'm internalizing that I am capable of handling things on my own. I am capable of doing things on my own if I want to even if others may not be able to. I do not need to rely on others all the time. I can make my own decisions. I can do it. And I’m not talking about do it in terms of being successful at school or what not…I’m talking about anything… I can even have fun on my own. I can go to the movies on my own.
I must add that as I left the house I couldn’t believe I was going to be doing this solo. I could have just grabbed my purse but I felt very empty as I walked towards the door...and a bit nervous. It’s as if I was buried under sand and I was coming out for the first time. I grabbed my school bag instead…laptop, journal, a couple of books…knew I wouldn’t need any of that. But still. I just felt I wanted some company.
Regardless. A small accomplishment to someone else…but to me…a huge step Alhamdulillah. Sort of reminds me of the first step on the moon :)
I think I have learned a big lesson today. Humans cannot be compared. What is big for me, may be trivial for you, and vice versa. Don’t you agree?
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