please

send help.

belong in a fire, may be the only thing that could clean me from this state.

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…

i guess life can only get better from here on in… right?

too messed up, with way too many complexes and insecurities to even consistently fathom a healthy concept of friendship? or are my standards too high?
God, get mad dramatic with it – i get left out once, or i feel hurt and my system starts rebooting, executing a total shutdown

it’s either all
or i want nothing

generally i choose nothing
better than feeling hurt, knowing that u just don’t fit in, or u speak too much, or ur too different, or you don’t say enough, or your words have no weight or value.
latch in, try to squeeze myself into the nooks of a group, can’t flow right
it’s all or nothing

music was the only consistent friendship i had
music and books
transport me into make believe word, where my mind can piece together a pretend situation that i can play with right before i nod off to sleep.

someone else’s words filled my voids, with no strings attached
music could tell me i was going to be loved, made me feel a woman like me could be valuable
that I stood a chance, there was more out there, and told me that i could get over him
it was a lazy bandaid where i didn’t have to better my character – i could just hope

trying to give up music
got stuck with reality and no escape

I start by normalizing things which weren’t ok oh, about 3 weeks ago. stumbling again onto music,
oh, dance. my ability to move, let loose. the times behind. was it that bad? certainly was more fun.

but could I expect to be doing those things and still see self growth
or did i realize that within my ethnic culture alone – forget Islaam, there was a need to back down.
grind, shake, move, shake, smirk, shake, bring them in
sexual, liberal, sensual, it reminded me how to express for needs that could not be quenched
because as wild as I looked, or openly as I let my sexuality express itself in open spaces with bodies swerving
it never went further than that. conservative in a twisted way, tease. always the need to tease.

my only outlet…
my release

and in passing I listen to some music, reminded again of my needs.
my capacity and capabilities to throw myself into a woman, this other woman
sly, seductive, wild, releasing the crave within
if case I forgot in all these years, without the touch of a man
that I needed this
a natural thing
simmered it down
music cleared the fog that Islaam set down
how do I cope
need for intimacy
to dance for him, share in desire

no.

good little girl. you might wait your whole life for this exchange

“how to leave your child behind”

and would you believe it…

nothing. no help, there is no one who can answer that question for me?
they can tell me how to commit a murder,suicide, bake cookies, and even help us find our life mates
but it can’t help me understand or comprehend how to cope with leaving a child i raised single handedly over the last several years. what do i do…if they come to take him? he’s so small, he’d go without looking back… i’m not all he’s ever know, i’m just the only who took care of him, and to him – even if he spends his life in a another home – he guesses i’ll always be waiting there.

but can i? if they remove him….how do i cope, can i cope, will i cope…

can i continue my struggle to move on every day here? can i act out my life here? no, it doesn’t seem like i can pretend as well here, like i do over in Egypt. i’ve started going back into my trances… nearly catatonic. i sit in stupor trying to imagine – how do I choose my deen over my son? or my son over my deen? it isn’t dramatic, but my reality. i’m confused and can’t mix my realities – this city, the people, my past, the pain written all over it, the confusion in my identity.

yaa, Rabb – i can’t read these signs

so i google what i can’t comprehend
and still

“no results”
how do i cope if it ever came to leaving him behind…

Here I am, invigorated and as surprised as all hell. But here I am nevertheless – finally getting around to rebuilding myself? I’m not sure. Did I stop running? Maybe? Will I fight back?

Yes.

I will do all those things I pushed away,
I will USE “I” in my bloody blog, ALOT.
I will write for me, and only ME.
I WILL BECOME THE WOMAN I NEED TO BE

but i realize I have to quantify things in my life to make sense of them, I have to discuss them – not just let them float around in my mind. have I gotten a billion times more resilient than I ever have been in the entirety of my life? yes… yes I have. accomplished much in growth – PERHAPS, unsure. But no one is going to save me, everyone is way too busy drowning in their own sob story – and I can’t keep waiting for my Prince charming.

I have one, and I’m not getting it all together for him. I want a husband, real bad – BUT I won’t settle for anything anymore, just been too damn long, and really – I’m not ready to sell myself the way I am. Can’t. Hell I wouldn’t marry me for me. I gotta fix myself, time to recognize that I’ve been doing it alone all along, how DARE I define my possible future on the possibility of settling down with a man. WHY AM I HOLDING MYSELF BACK.

I gotta make my decisions, I gotta stop waiting for the miracle. He’s already here, It is already there. FACT: I am worth the time it takes to piece together. Faith in Islaam is not supposed to be the crutch i keep clinging to,
it enhances me, makes me the beta version of whatever I was yesterday, or the moment before I learned something

I am going to teach myself to let go
of you, and you, and you, them, her, he, she, him.

who i am:

broken, inconsistent, weak, sad, easily distracted, resistant, uninvolved, overweight

this is who I will be, by the WILL of Allaah subhanu wa ta’alaa

muslima, mother, daughter, student of arabic/quraan ( YOUR MINE ),
healthy, slim, positive, LOVING, forgiving, light

I AM NOT ASHAMED TO NO LONGER MEET THE STANDARDS I always felt were placed on me by third party influences…

no, I am who I am, and I am proud of who I am,

i am beautiful, and I can be beautiful, I WILL BE BEAUTIFUL

BEAUTIFUL, SEXY, BRAVE, SURVIVOR

how does one bother to write on their lives, so insignificant are we.
was i that arrogant to think my life deserves words, so short it is to be.
no matter, silence suffices now.

to everything Allaah, compliance to deen – bring peace.

character first, everything else waits.
cleanse my heart, renew my soul, awake my son.

right to my core

i’m still living in a dream, running from reality

why is it that I can’t come back, refuse to face my past.