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?
Sunday, October 17, 2010
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.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
tell me you love me.
When you say love is a simple chemical reaction, can't say I agree, cause my chemicals have left me a beautiful disaster*
I just came from watching the movie Eat Pray Love. I liked it - it was interesting, honest, and full of constant reminders...there was a point where I wished I could just pause the movie to write down some of the lines.
One scene made me kick the chair in front of me though.
Near the end of the movie, Julia Roberts' boyfriend confesses his love for her, and then asks her whether she loves him. He raises his voice and gets upset when she doesn't say anything. He wants to hear those words from her. Regardless of whether or not she did love him at that point - or that moment - what he did by raising his voice, and looking at her with hurting eyes, was put pressure on her. She walks away without saying anything.
One day, he had called me. I was in the kitchen. We had not talked for a few days at that point - he was upset...I was being a bit distant with my text messages. I would be tardy with my replies, and perhaps emotionless when I did write. I must have been questioning the relationship again at that time. Regardless, on the phone, he told me he loved me. He was exceptionally emotional that day. In the midst of his complaints, he asked me..."do you love me?" I did not reply. "Tell me you love me, tell me you love me. I love you". I felt warm tears roll down my face.
At that point I didn't love him - at that moment at least. I resented him. But there, on the other side of the phone was a grown man that just confessed his love for me, and was crying, frustrated and upset that I wasn't telling him I love him back. I could feel a knot in my throat. All I wanted to do was just hang up the phone. I didn't want to have to answer. But alas...my questioning self got thinking.
'If I do not answer, he will be upset. If I do not answer, everything might change. If I do not answer, he might stop loving me. If do not answer, I might end up alone'.
"TELL ME YOU LOVE ME". I swallowed my honesty, my pride, and my youth at that moment. I wiped the tears from my face as if he could see them. I cleared my throat. "Of course I love you". I buried my nails into my hands and clenched my teeth. Those three words have never felt as heavy as they did during that phone call. I remember it all too vividly.
He calmed down. And then we ended the conversation. I had confessed my love...now he was under the impression that I'll go back to normal. I would no longer be distant. And since I had told him I loved him, I made a mental note that I had to make more of an effort. 'You love him...just do what people who are in love are supposed to do'.
Women are often made to feel pressure. I hate that feeling with a passion. I vowed to myself that I would never EVER tell a man that I loved him just because he expected to hear it. I promised myself that I would not tell a man that I love him just because he demands that the feeling is 'mutual'. I promised myself that I would only tell a man that I love him if I truly feel like I love him. I will only say those three words when I am ready.
Its not right. Men should not manipulate our hearts...our hearts, by nature, are soft. When they force emotional responses, they are simply taking advantage. Why do we give in? Why is it so hard to just walk away?
Still love is all I see*
*Lyrics by Anna Nalick - Catalyst
I just came from watching the movie Eat Pray Love. I liked it - it was interesting, honest, and full of constant reminders...there was a point where I wished I could just pause the movie to write down some of the lines.
One scene made me kick the chair in front of me though.
Near the end of the movie, Julia Roberts' boyfriend confesses his love for her, and then asks her whether she loves him. He raises his voice and gets upset when she doesn't say anything. He wants to hear those words from her. Regardless of whether or not she did love him at that point - or that moment - what he did by raising his voice, and looking at her with hurting eyes, was put pressure on her. She walks away without saying anything.
One day, he had called me. I was in the kitchen. We had not talked for a few days at that point - he was upset...I was being a bit distant with my text messages. I would be tardy with my replies, and perhaps emotionless when I did write. I must have been questioning the relationship again at that time. Regardless, on the phone, he told me he loved me. He was exceptionally emotional that day. In the midst of his complaints, he asked me..."do you love me?" I did not reply. "Tell me you love me, tell me you love me. I love you". I felt warm tears roll down my face.
At that point I didn't love him - at that moment at least. I resented him. But there, on the other side of the phone was a grown man that just confessed his love for me, and was crying, frustrated and upset that I wasn't telling him I love him back. I could feel a knot in my throat. All I wanted to do was just hang up the phone. I didn't want to have to answer. But alas...my questioning self got thinking.
'If I do not answer, he will be upset. If I do not answer, everything might change. If I do not answer, he might stop loving me. If do not answer, I might end up alone'.
"TELL ME YOU LOVE ME". I swallowed my honesty, my pride, and my youth at that moment. I wiped the tears from my face as if he could see them. I cleared my throat. "Of course I love you". I buried my nails into my hands and clenched my teeth. Those three words have never felt as heavy as they did during that phone call. I remember it all too vividly.
He calmed down. And then we ended the conversation. I had confessed my love...now he was under the impression that I'll go back to normal. I would no longer be distant. And since I had told him I loved him, I made a mental note that I had to make more of an effort. 'You love him...just do what people who are in love are supposed to do'.
Women are often made to feel pressure. I hate that feeling with a passion. I vowed to myself that I would never EVER tell a man that I loved him just because he expected to hear it. I promised myself that I would not tell a man that I love him just because he demands that the feeling is 'mutual'. I promised myself that I would only tell a man that I love him if I truly feel like I love him. I will only say those three words when I am ready.
Its not right. Men should not manipulate our hearts...our hearts, by nature, are soft. When they force emotional responses, they are simply taking advantage. Why do we give in? Why is it so hard to just walk away?
Still love is all I see*
*Lyrics by Anna Nalick - Catalyst
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Forever Confused
I was in a relationship with a man that I liked, then I grew to hate, then I convinced myself that I loved, then I briefly cut out of my life, realized I couldn’t so went back, then I resented, and now I don’t want to cut him off completely. I question whether what I went through was abuse, but at the same time I want his presence alive in my life. There is no linearity in my emotions whatsoever. On a regular day, I can hate the one I think I loved while at the same time question his love for me but still know deep down inside that he is a good person. More criss-crosses than a spider web.
As I consider the current man in my life for marriage, I am plagued by the same confusion. I have no stability in my emotions towards him. And I beat myself up for the sporadic feelings always. So why am I like this?
Looking at things from this perspective, perhaps the reason why I am so confused about my potential fiancé is because I do not trust my feelings. I realize that my emotions are easily molded, that I’m generally a woman whose emotions are dependent on a man, and that while my emotions fluctuate, they always lean on the side of giving the male the benefit of the doubt. I am veiled from truly being able to assess what is best for me. Am I doomed to being forever confused?
As I consider the current man in my life for marriage, I am plagued by the same confusion. I have no stability in my emotions towards him. And I beat myself up for the sporadic feelings always. So why am I like this?
Looking at things from this perspective, perhaps the reason why I am so confused about my potential fiancé is because I do not trust my feelings. I realize that my emotions are easily molded, that I’m generally a woman whose emotions are dependent on a man, and that while my emotions fluctuate, they always lean on the side of giving the male the benefit of the doubt. I am veiled from truly being able to assess what is best for me. Am I doomed to being forever confused?
Friday, September 17, 2010
Cycle
Months - or perhaps even a year or two - after we began the relationship, he told me about how when he was younger, he was approached by two older women. One was a relative whom he had a long term relationship with, the other was with an experienced older woman who taught him things he hadn’t known. As he recounted this, I saw a pattern – he went through it, now he is doing the same to me. We learned in school that children who have had abusive parents are more likely to grow to become abusive parents themselves; that children with obese parents often become obese; that children with alcoholic parents are prone to also growing to be alcoholics. I immediately recognized that the same must be true for him – that he entered into the relationship with me because he went through things as a child. Instead of serving as a light-bulb to let me run – realizing that this was simply a pattern and not ‘divine’ love – I felt sorry for him. The sadness that I felt for myself, I immediately transferred to him…’its not his fault’ I would think to myself…he was a victim. 'Miskeen…he still has the affects'.
I battled in my head with this idea for a bit. I wondered if I would be able to ‘lure’ a boy decades younger than me the way I was being lured - the way he was once lured. The thought didn’t sit well for me at all. And somehow, I just stopped thinking about things as a cycle.
Years into the relationship he told me that another older lady was in love with him - obsessively in fact - and that he had to go through regular measures to put her in her place and fight away her seductive attempts. I never put all these links together – but now that I think about it, he does seem to have had some pretty random experiences and love affairs. Even if he was a victim as a child, as a grown adult he has no right to replicate what he experienced…especially given the fact that he knows how it feels to be so young and so confused…so lost as to where to turn. And, the fact that another older lady was attracted to him as well – while we were together – something must not be right with him. May Allah bless him and forgive us all for our mistakes and wrong judgments. Do things working in a cycle make him less wrong?
I battled in my head with this idea for a bit. I wondered if I would be able to ‘lure’ a boy decades younger than me the way I was being lured - the way he was once lured. The thought didn’t sit well for me at all. And somehow, I just stopped thinking about things as a cycle.
Years into the relationship he told me that another older lady was in love with him - obsessively in fact - and that he had to go through regular measures to put her in her place and fight away her seductive attempts. I never put all these links together – but now that I think about it, he does seem to have had some pretty random experiences and love affairs. Even if he was a victim as a child, as a grown adult he has no right to replicate what he experienced…especially given the fact that he knows how it feels to be so young and so confused…so lost as to where to turn. And, the fact that another older lady was attracted to him as well – while we were together – something must not be right with him. May Allah bless him and forgive us all for our mistakes and wrong judgments. Do things working in a cycle make him less wrong?
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Cut the Cord
I am unable to cut the cord. Just yesterday I sent him an Eid Mubarak message. We are no longer in touch save the random message he sends once every few months. I usually reply. But even if my reply may come out very cold as compared to his, I am never rude. And, I always put some form of affection in the message - whether it is calling him by the nickname I gave him when we were together or sending an internet heart. Yesterday I wrote ‘i love u’.
Do I really love him? Well, I love the parts of him that made me grow and the good that he did bring into my life; the fact that he shaped me for who I am. Having him in my life for so long also meant that there was no room for anyone else –I truly believe that our relationship protected me from worse. But, when I remember the past sometimes, my blood pressure rises in anger, in self-loathing and in empathy. I never let him see that side however. If he was to read this blog ever I think he would faint because I am sure he never would imagine that I would be evaluating the relationship the way that I am. For some reason, I do not want him to know that I get upset when I remember.
But why? What good does keeping that cord strong do for me? Nothing. But, I cannot seem to stop myself. I was so dependent on him for so long...perhaps I fear what it would mean for me if I cut him off completely. Will I be strong? Will I ever have anyone else? I would hate for things to go back as they were, but at the same time, I get comfort when I hear that he makes dua for me everyday, that he still believes in me, and that he continues to love me.
I cringe as I write this. It’s disgusting when I think of how I still want his presence despite the way things unraveled…despite the fact that I wonder if he is doing the same thing today with some other younger girl. It makes me feel dirty. Why can’t I cut the cord? And, why don’t I want to cut the cord?
Do I really love him? Well, I love the parts of him that made me grow and the good that he did bring into my life; the fact that he shaped me for who I am. Having him in my life for so long also meant that there was no room for anyone else –I truly believe that our relationship protected me from worse. But, when I remember the past sometimes, my blood pressure rises in anger, in self-loathing and in empathy. I never let him see that side however. If he was to read this blog ever I think he would faint because I am sure he never would imagine that I would be evaluating the relationship the way that I am. For some reason, I do not want him to know that I get upset when I remember.
But why? What good does keeping that cord strong do for me? Nothing. But, I cannot seem to stop myself. I was so dependent on him for so long...perhaps I fear what it would mean for me if I cut him off completely. Will I be strong? Will I ever have anyone else? I would hate for things to go back as they were, but at the same time, I get comfort when I hear that he makes dua for me everyday, that he still believes in me, and that he continues to love me.
I cringe as I write this. It’s disgusting when I think of how I still want his presence despite the way things unraveled…despite the fact that I wonder if he is doing the same thing today with some other younger girl. It makes me feel dirty. Why can’t I cut the cord? And, why don’t I want to cut the cord?
Monday, September 13, 2010
Unworthy
Sometimes I wonder why I don’t feel as guilty as perhaps I should feel when it comes to all the physical that went on in the relationship. Of course I ask for forgiveness, but is it the type of forgiveness that people ask for with conviction? To be honest, I don’t feel that I ask for forgiveness sincerely. Not only for my relationship with him, but for anything wrong. The words come out and I ask for my neck to be saved from the hell fire, but is the forgiveness that I seek one that suffocates me – a yearning for forgiveness that makes me uncomfortable in my own skin – one that makes me tremble in fear? No. It’s a sad reality. I wish I would tear when I make tawba…but I don’t (usually). Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I was so young when we started…and that from such a young age I was conditioned to swallow the guilt of all wrong that I do and to somehow put the bulk of the blame elsewhere. When I speak to friends and they have physical encounters – a hug or a kiss…or more – they are overwhelmed with guilt…some stop praying because they are so embarrassed to face God as a result of how bad they feel. Most of them have had their first encounter after turning 25. Why am I so different?
How can Allah wash away my sins when it’s hard for me to acknowledge them as sins? On the one hand I blame him more because he was older and was able to ‘manipulate’ me...somehow making myself a victim. On the other hand, I always make excuses for myself and believe that Allah understands my heart even more than myself…that even when I do wrong, God knows that I do not mean to. Is that an excuse? Is that acceptable behaviour?
Ever since we happened, any relationship with a man that I have had after him (I have had one) doesn’t feel as wrong as it should. Sadly. I just go into shut-off mode where I go through the motions without any emotion. It’s as if I’m no longer my strong me – I become the vulnerable me. The dependent me. The one that needs a man to stop me from going astray me. Convoluted thinking. How then can I turn back the hands of time in order to reach a stage where I recognize wrongs as wrongs?
Although I have never stopped praying…for the longest time I was unable to make dua for myself. I would ask God to protect and make better the lives of others…to bring them closer to Him….to forgive their sins…I would cry in my prayers doing that…but, I never remembered me. It was not because I considered myself infallible. It was because over the years, and through my guilt, I had became a black box in my dua. Non-existent. Not worthy. I believed there were far more deserving people out there...what good was I anyway?
How can Allah wash away my sins when it’s hard for me to acknowledge them as sins? On the one hand I blame him more because he was older and was able to ‘manipulate’ me...somehow making myself a victim. On the other hand, I always make excuses for myself and believe that Allah understands my heart even more than myself…that even when I do wrong, God knows that I do not mean to. Is that an excuse? Is that acceptable behaviour?
Ever since we happened, any relationship with a man that I have had after him (I have had one) doesn’t feel as wrong as it should. Sadly. I just go into shut-off mode where I go through the motions without any emotion. It’s as if I’m no longer my strong me – I become the vulnerable me. The dependent me. The one that needs a man to stop me from going astray me. Convoluted thinking. How then can I turn back the hands of time in order to reach a stage where I recognize wrongs as wrongs?
Although I have never stopped praying…for the longest time I was unable to make dua for myself. I would ask God to protect and make better the lives of others…to bring them closer to Him….to forgive their sins…I would cry in my prayers doing that…but, I never remembered me. It was not because I considered myself infallible. It was because over the years, and through my guilt, I had became a black box in my dua. Non-existent. Not worthy. I believed there were far more deserving people out there...what good was I anyway?
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