and suddenly this feeling of shame washed over me… here i was 26, a muslim, mother, wife, daughter, student
and there was nothing that i did for anyone, anything, except sit there dazed and feeling sorry for myself and the way my life had worked out. surely i would snap out of it, but nay, weeks past and time rotted my very core away and tore me from the grips of faith, a wretched period of time – that i will once again pay all too dearly youm al-qiyaam.
the consequence of my life was no one elses fault, and certainly least of all my son. it all happened to us, as life happens, but me too weak to cop it on my own turn away from him, him, them, God, and instead into feeding my starved ego and malicious desires. for all the good i ever thought i was, i spent the last three weeks burning it all away.
now in my journal, will pages fill concerning my reconstructive phase. i never do bother to write when its good…
