Farewell Family

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For those who have been reading my recent posts, after nightmarish three weeks, I am ready to say farewell to my sisters. So here is my open letter to a family I feel I lost but the reality is, it is not a family I actually had or wanted. I urge you to also say goodbye to anyone who has held you back in toxic relationships because it may in fact feel normal, however, the truth is this is not. No one deserves to be mentally, emotionally, physically and sexually tortured. And with this, let’s end the cycle of victimisation and shed our old skins, give voices to our silent selves. A chance to be finally heard without judgement and cruelty. Before I begin I want to clarify a few terms that of late have been thrown at me. It is more for my own sanity than anything else. I was recently thrown out of my family home at 10pm in a pair of slippers in my sleeping clothes because my youngest sister recovered memories in flashbacks. Below are her words;

“I do not know where you are in this memory, you could be in toilet but you left me with your friend who used my foot to stroke his penis. You did all of this to punish me because you were hurting about your own abuse. And you are a vile human who is a danger to children and no one should have anything to do you because you are as bad as our older brother. Everyone should cut you dead.”

So here are what these words really mean:

Sex offender: A registered sex offender is a person, male or female, who has been convicted of a crime involving a sexual act where the federal, state or local laws require them to be placed on the Sexual Offender Registry after they have served their criminal sentences or when they have been released on parole.

 

A Pedophilia: is a psychiatric disorder in which an adult or older adolescent experiences a primary or exclusive sexual attraction to prepubescent children. Although girls typically begin the process of puberty at age 10 or 11, and boys at age 11 or 12, criteria for pedophilia extend the cut-off point for prepubescence to age 13. A person who is diagnosed with pedophilia must be at least 16 years old, and at least five years older than the prepubescent child, for the attraction to be diagnosed as pedophilia. Wikipedia.

 

An abuser: someone who treats another person in a cruel, violent, or unfair way: or someone who uses something in a way that is harmful or morally wrong. Cambridge Dictionary.

 

I hope this letters helps my heart to heal and my dreams to return to a calm, idyllic state once more as my sisters are no longer in my life. A choice that I make without guilt or regret.

 

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Dear Sisters,

 

My heart hurts writing this letter, yet I believe I have buried my truth to let the idea of peace prevail. No matter what I have said or done, in thought or action I have never been enough. Today, again I feel like that 8-year-old who was alone in a world full of hate and fear. A girl who at 20 tried to share her truth but was again left alone to fend for herself. Now at nearly 40, for a moment I was that scared girl who wasn’t believed that she was raped as a child. This time though the hands of fate turned against me, I was being accused of being a child abuser. My crime for leaving you, Little Ms Chaos with a friend who I trusted. A crime that you don’t fully remember and one I don’t recall or understand why I would do so. Yet, I choose to believe you without question. But my letter doesn’t begin with you because I know you are hurting and I feel your pain. I wish only peace for you.

So my first message is for Ms. Judgemental, my sister who flew the nest. The one who left home at 18 with dreams of starting over in the USA when our father was diagnosed with cancer. A father, I cared for even when I was troubled by flashbacks and nightmares. Those dreams of yours, which later mother hated me for because I supported and encouraged you to go live your life and be happy. But when you wanted to marry a Shia Muslim, knowing full well that mother would lose her marbles- you asked me to help. You wanted me to keep your secrets, regardless whoever was being betrayed by your actions. It never mattered to you because you wanted what you wanted. Never once did you take responsibility for your actions and their consequences. Even after I told you mother emotionally stone-walled me because she was punishing my trust in you. Yet, here you are accusing me of keeping secrets and betraying the family by pretending to not remember things when in reality you suspect I am trying to hide my guilt. Maybe deep down, you really did want to punish other children because some people do that, right? These are your words no one else’s. But again, you are the sister, I do not hear from much at all. Every other Eid, after I wish you first, you sometimes reply. The same person who is too ashamed to let anyone know that I am married to a beautiful Black man because “my God! how will I show your face to your in-laws and children?”- Again your words.  What really is his crime? To be born in dark skin? Truth be told, you are no royal Arabian princess, you are merely a self-centred Pakistani girl with narrow-minded views and many, many hypocrisies that I cannot believe I consistently forgave. You called after for the first time after years because of your need. The need to have answers you wanted to hear. It wasn’t to hear my side but to make decisions you had already internally made. Basically, you wanted to validate your own feelings and thoughts so you could justify your own narrow-mindedness to yourself. You have a right to be upset, yes, it is wrong what happened to Little Miss. Chaos but I am not the one who ruined her life. Her life was ruined by others who violated her. Not I. I am only responsible for trusting someone else, I took that without memory or hesitation. Come on, who are you really kidding dear sister? You terminated our relationship a longtime ago but really just need another reason to blame someone for your personal feelings of abandonment. So all I want to say to you:

“I forgive you for the hurt you caused me, I forgive myself for the hurt I caused you. I have always wanted to offer you love and kindness, to help you live a complete full life even at the cost of my own happiness. Thank you for this lesson.”

Moving on to Ms. Blind Fury, gosh the last 20 years have been a crazy rollercoaster! I don’t know where to start with you. You were companion, my best friend, the only person as children I ever trusted even when you weren’t the nicest child to grace my path. I worshiped you always, overlooking your temper and nastiness because I truly loved you unconditionally. I believed in you, in the hope you could change one day. Never, in my heart I thought I would be saying these things to myself nevermind to anyone else. I forgave you when you told me to get out of your life, after telling you about the flashbacks. I said nothing when you cut me out for three years, even when my heart broke everyday. Not a word between us but I always loved you without hesitation. I was always there for you, picking and dropping you off from University or keeping your secrets even when I had so many responsibilities. I never complained once. I also forgave you when you so cruelly humiliated and degraded me when I told mum about the abuse. Your hurtful words were like daggers in my already tormented heart. I grieved your loss everyday in my 20’s. I really tried to mend bridges with you over the years- I really did. Even though you claim I betrayed and broke your trust, you didn’t let me into your home purely out of altruism but because you needed help to care for your children. Children who I love unconditionally without any personal gain or reprise. You’re words “I am vile, disgusting human who deserves to die”, don’t surprise me. Neither do your physical threats of violence and aggression because this isn’t the first time. This is your pattern and I finally take back my power. I am done being your punch bag. In the last two years, I disagreed with you and it was no crime. I just saw you for who you really are- a bully. And I do not have to accept or like that. The sad things is like the times before, you never actually asked for my version. You made your mind based on what Little Miss Chaos partially remembered. There was no room for compassion or the slightest consideration that I may have a different side, a simpler more innocent one. You simply became judge and jury, sentencing me the death penalty. I am not sad. In fact, I am relieved that this moment allowed me to sever these ties with you. Finally unbinding myself from my guilt. The guilt you projected on me. A guilt placed on my shoulders because you cannot accept your actions. You needed to justify rejecting me by actually placing the blame of my choice to tell an 18-year-old you that I was raped. You never over the years said you were sorry that you weren’t there for me in my darkest hour. Today at 37, you behaved no differently. This time, I made a choice to trust a friend, which also is not a crime, naive perhaps but no criminal offence on my part. It’s like the time you trusted your brother-in law with your son or the times Little Miss Chao went to stay with you at University or travelled to America alone at the age of 9, or went Pakistan or moved in with you at 18. Anything could have happened then. What if that surfaces in her memories, then what? Are you also a vile human who should die? To be clear with you-  I sexually violated nobody. So I do not accept your punishment or hate no matter how many people you threaten to mentally and emotionally abuse. I am sorry, I do not like the person you became but I am even more sorry that you are version of the man you detest the most in the world. OUR OLDER BROTHER. You are just him in another skin. I am sorry it took me so long to see. I mean you no harm or hate, however, I have no need to fix you or fix our relationship because I cannot change something so deeply broken within you. I can only fix myself and my relationship with a self caught up in your trauma. Finally, I am happy to free myself from this burden and responsibility, with no shame, it does not matter what you see me as because I finally see the real you and the real me. We are not the same. My message to you is:

“I forgive you for the hurt you caused me, I forgive myself for the hurt I caused you. I have always wanted to offer you love and kindness, to help you live a complete full life even at the cost of my own happiness. Thank you for the many lessons, the ones I clearly wasn’t learning. I will always love your children and their memories will remain in my heart. For that I thank you.”

Lastly, my dear Little Miss Chaos. I am so very sorry that you are hurting because of my naive trust in another. Although I do not remember leaving you with anyone and I cannot make sense of why I would do so. I am not even trying to justify it. I simply want to gently point out that I may not be in the line of your vision in your memory and if knowing this helps you, then I hope you can regain a fully memory of this moment. For me, it however no longer matters because I cannot undo the past and this person is from my past so I need no more. I accept that you were violated by someone I trusted and without question you are all that matters. All I have to say now is that never in my wildest dreams, I would put you in a position of harm to punish you for my own suffering. I know, I have said this many times but you cannot hear me behind your own veil of anger. Maybe one day you may, I hope that day will come soon. I would never willingly inflict this pain on an enemy nevermind on a person I loved unconditionally as I would do my own child. My heart bleeds in unspoken pain because I know you really do believe that I am danger to children and that everyone must protect theirs. I have never molested or abused you in way possible. EVER. I would not do so. What’s even more sad is that, when I disclosed my abuse, I did it to protect you, to protect our generations but no one wanted to believe me. You have over the years insisted it wasn’t true and I should forgive him. Yet, here I stand alone because you choose to not forgive me. My ex-friend was no threat to you today or to anyone else, but you decided to share this with everyone so they could cut ties with me. You had already punished me, with cutting yourself and your son from my life. But you insisted that everyone else also conformed to your will. You didn’t even once take my suggestion of reporting the actual perpetrator, yet you so easily disregarded my feelings knowing how much I have cared for our family since childhood. I offer nothing but love. And here I am isolated, unheard and reliving my trauma because you really wanted to punish me. The problem is, in your hurt you never stopped to actively listen to anything beyond your own perception. What’s really hurtful is the lengths you have gone to inflict pain on other. You went to the extend of trying to turn our father, mother and the only brother who took me in. You and our other sisters ganging up on those who didn’t agree with your perception. I can tolerate anything but cruelty to others, I cannot. And I will never ever accept that I am no different to our older brother who is a pedophile no matter what way you justify it. That one comment will never leave my heart, mind and soul. You compared me to the one person who once tore my self-respect, my humanity, my existence into tiny shreds without any remorse or care. I am not him and I will never be able to let that go. I have only wanted the best for you and will continue to do so, however, I have no room for someone who in their hurt cannot consider offering others the benefit of doubt and compassion. I have been in your place, I have felt hurt and confused but I have never deliberately hurt another because I was in pain. You may justify this in any way possible and it is ok that you feel this way. I will never see it from your eyes. A bad choice, is simply that. It is nothing more or less, especially if you take into context ones character and historical actions. Sadly though I will never concur and in the end I have to live with my soul – I live without guilt. To you I want to say, I really am sorry that your mind, body and soul has been violated many times by many people but I am not amongst them. I only hope in time you will heal and be able to live a complete happy life.

“I forgive you for the hurt you caused me, I forgive myself for the hurt I caused you. I have always wanted to offer you love and kindness, to help you live a complete full life even at the cost of my own happiness. Thank you for the many lessons and showing me a mirror to how trauma can blind one. I free myself from this cycle and in peace I let this be.”

My final message is to my parents. I am sorry mother you are losing yourself to dementia, I really do not want you to suffer anymore so I wish to cause you no further pain. Lets promise to leave the past where it belongs and try enjoy what we have in the present. I understand you cannot make sense of this but please make it easy for yourself. I will say it one final time. I made a mistake which I cannot confirm or deny because I do not have the memory. It was though a mistake, like you once made, one I do not blame or hate you for. Or the same mistake father made in Pakistan or the one Ms. Blind Fury made with her brother-in-law and the one your youngest son made with his ex-wife. They are all innocent mistakes. You may not be able to hold on to this but I hope you find peace one day, in the reminder that I am not a vile human. I would never intentionally hurt anyone, if anything I hope you can remember the child I was and how everything mattered to me. I want to thank my father, my middle brother and my sister-in-law for their belief, kindness and love. A reminder that humanity and compassion exists somewhere in this strange troubled world of survivors of abuse. My final gratitude is for my beautiful husband for his patience, love and trust. For the chance to together build a life beyond this chaos where love, joy and peace reside. For now my heart maybe a little battered but I believe together we will heal it, with laughter and love. I want to thank my child self for the reminder that it is not safe and healthy to stay in such environments. Thank you dear kind child for being my companion for so long, I trust our road to recovery has already started with our actions. Every day is a new day to begin again, together we choose life. From here forth, we may never visit this darkness again.

And a massive thank you to my amazing 13 nieces and nephews. You are precious and locked safely in my heart, whether we see each other again, I will always be here for you. Sending you love, light and prayers.

 

Thank you for listening friends. I honestly wish this has helped you as much as it has helped me. I look forward to your letters too.

 

In loving kindness WildFire.

 

Photography credit to original artists. Girl in the rain by the magical artist – https://bluethumb.com.au/kate-fisher/Artwork/dance-in-the-rain

 

The Storyteller

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A fierce gust of wind danced with her mocha curls, arrogantly tossing her bangs against the ice grey scrutiny of her almost invisible eyes. Thick eyelashes disappointingly losing  an unprovoked battle with hair wildly determined. However, with an unnerving intensity, she gazed longingly at the “twin-tailed mermaid” hanging precariously above her head.  The Starbucks siren- a proud familiar stranger. An exciting tingle of an old pleasure brimming in her veins. A knowing smile spreads across her wide mouth, as a hypnotised elderly gentleman and his wooden walking companion stops to gawk at her. Briefly closing her eyes, she inhales sharply to stop the music rising within her soul. Even though, mystified by this sudden awakening, she pulls herself back to the present. This was not the time to indulge. She had more pressing plans to pursue without devilishly tempting distractions. Opening her eyes again, she notices the gentleman shuffle into a solitary leather seat with his head buried in the Daily News.

In a quick elaborate toss of her fingers, she finishes printing her messages on her used chai latte cup. Admiring her handiwork, she smiles satisfied with her ingenuity. The proud red lipstick stains, her unique signature winking cheekly back at her.

 

We all have a story.

What’s yours?

Inspiredhopes@outlook.com. 

 

Carefully placing her art piece on a roundtable, she steps away quickly worried she may change her mind. Hands tucked into her faux fur coat, she walks away. Red heels clicking softly against tan tiles as she quietly reassures no one in particular.

“Someone will respond. They will.”

Now all she had to do was to wait for the eager ping of her inbox.

The time for luring sailors to shipwreck off the coast of an island in the South Pacific, had long passed. This modern world just wasn’t what she was accustomed too but unafraid of the challenge, she found her own way around it.  Although, her twin tail was no longer visible, here she was telling her tale in other words.

The door slams shut behind her as she sings an ancient song with the wind. Anticipation burning in her beating heart.

 

 

Waiting keenly to hear from you.

The Mermaid Storyteller. 

 

18th October 2018: Message 1 left on a plastic cup in Starbucks Texas City with the hope that some kind soul will reply. Fingers crossed.

Mind Matters

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Mind Matters.

Does the mind really matter or is it just a noisy storeroom for memories to be discreetly tucked away until further notice?

“The mind is a set of cognitive faculties including consciousness, perception, thinking, judgement, language and memory. It is usually defined as the faculty of an entity’s thoughts and consciousness.” Wikipedia

Gosh, this piece has been so much fun to write! I started, erased and started again, primarily because my mind is a giddy minefield of buzzing activity. The unknown territories a confusing mess between its random wandering and why it chooses to go where it does! Luckily, my little self, operates from an intuitive place. According to the very loyal Myer Briggs, I function from emotions 98.8% of the time. Yup, you read that correctly. I am on a crazy emotional roller coaster to the loony bin without help from anyone outside of my own wacky mayhem. Thankfully, my husband is earning a well deserved break from it. Enough said about emotions- temporarily, we’re getting divorced for the time-being. This will certainly cheer up my INTJ husband when he finds out. Whopeeeeeeee! The current focus on the perplexities of our ever so precious mind and its matters. I can’t promise how this will unravel because I don’t spend much time in the jurisdiction of the mind. I am on a tricky road, slipping down on a slithery unmanned path like Alice lost in Wonderland with no speculation of what I will uncover. This will most probably be entertaining to the thinkers amongst us. However, from the eyes of an “emotive feeler”, it is a new world completely.

Words matter so here are few associated with the “mind”. Brain, intellectual capacities, power of reason, power of comprehension, power of thought, reasoning, judgement, sense and mentality.  So keep this in mind, this will come in handy at some point.

Off we go on this special adventure, with our mind on our mind. Ha, clever. I know. I have many bright spark ones. Without further much ado about nothing, this is what we are doing today. Close your eyes, please. Amongst the floating before your tightly shivering lids and the chatter in your head, I want you to visualise yourself. Once you see yourself, as clearly as possible, then imagine your mind outside of yourself as an entity on its own. Really intimately visualise it, seeing it separate from your body. Then take a long hard look at it, soaking up all the details. I want you to be drunk on this high. You are not your mind right now. For the following moments, it will remain beyond yourself. And you are going to witness it as a silent observer. Nothing more required. Your fate sealed in this scene.

How did your mind present itself? Mine, hoovers above my head as a glittery rainbow cloud, with unicorns dancing around it. It is a neat, fluffy cloud with smooth silky edges. The rainbow is hanging lopsided from the edge, clinging to dear life but unwilling to give up. The glitter sparkles every time it catches the light, it proudly shines smug at its superior glory. Since, its my mind, it appears as I wish and with no one judging it, it can be all it wants. I want it to sing too, however, I am going for a silent mind on this occasion. Next time, American Idol can come out to play. So can you. You can be all you want without judgement or criticism. This is your chance to give your mind, a face of its own without dependency on your physical body.

Excited, yet? I sure am! This is when the fun really begins. I love fun!

Precisely at this moment, your phone will ping. Beep. Beep. Beep. One new Facebook notification stares cheekily at you.

You have a new friend request.

From yourself. Well to be precise from your mind.

Will you accept? 

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Whilst on my daily walk today, with every greeting, I imagined everyone as their mind and not their bodies. It was pretty colourful picture, I tell you. Obviously, I don’t know these people so this was my mind’s perception of them. And it was fun until I honed into my own mind. I can only see what my mind is pre-accustomed too. So, there are some surprises waiting for me, as I take a long hard look at it. As it drifts over my head, I begin to wonder what is going on in there. Is the noise a useless radio channel rehashing histories and patterns? I listen, really listen to it because otherwise I am usually preoccupied with emotions to even notice the powerhouse upstairs or where ever it lives. What do I think about? What are my perceptions? What are my judgements? What is my mindset? What are my memories? What are yours? Do you even know or care? I think I know most of the answers to these questions because I am serial reflector and an honourable one. I should have some idea at least. One of the reasons for paying attention now is because my life is full of external chaos. I find myself busy reacting, responding, defending or protecting myself, thus easily checking out from the matters of the mind. Finally, I am ready to go on this treasure hunt to discover if my mind is chatting shit or telling me to wake up and change it up.

Would I accept my minds friend request? Hmm … would you accept my request? Either way, truth be told- I can’t say I would. My mind has many wonderful qualities. I promise, this is no lie my friend. It will make you laugh, tickle your insides with creative adventures and wildly wacky stories. It can be many vibrant characters, all easily catching you off guard and you’d have no idea what to expect next. It also has the wicked ability to intuitively impart wisdom without knowing you. Better still, it can empathise with you, healing you by simply showing you the endless possibilities of light, love and laughter. Its power of positivism and hope intoxicating. You won’t be able to get enough. And you will definitely be seduced with it’s warm charm and cheeky mischievousness of a wonderfully innocent child. Yet, this sexy mistress has an elusive dark side. A side that rears it head when least expected.

As I witness my mind, I know its message matters even though I don’t want it too. I don’t like the idea that my mind knows a truth, I don’t want to acknowledge. Not because we are defined by it but because it defines our actions and inactions. Deeming us responsible for what we may not actively see but subconsciously know. Without the mind, what would become of us? If you have read any of my previous posts, you would know by now I have a checkered history with child sex abuse and it’s side effects. So as I observe my mind, I hear the thoughts I want to ignore the most. It’s like a bittersweet love story, one you can’t outrun in the end. It always comes to bite you on the bum when all you want for it, is to remain a secret. With this knowledge, I want to explain one of the main themes that comes up in my mind. You may have your own and no one is judging you or saying anything is wrong with you. I am only a reflection of what maybe. However, I want you to think about how you can shape your mind to be something that doesn’t have an adverse effect on your life and relationships. I want my mind to function in a healthy way, always and forever because if the mind is out of whack so are the other parts of our selves. You can’t deny yourself that.

Since recovering some of my memories and with the strong desire to not recall anymore, I began a strict regime. One where the locking of doors, essentially bedroom and bathroom doors was a way of keeping the past where it belonged- forgotten and repressed. This subconscious ritual became crucial to my survival. Locked doors meant internal security. Click. Days, turned into years, years became a habit. Click. Years have passed without having flashbacks. Click. Proud moment, right? I effectively controlled my mind from unlocking intrusive memories. Well done me! Well done. I of course have other triggers, which I have mostly managed without too many critical reminders. I was a happy girl. Who wouldn’t be? For those who don’t know what flashbacks or repressed memories are, here is a brief description for your understanding.

When you experience something really traumatic such as a physical attack, your body suspends ‘normal operations’ and temporarily shuts down some bodily functions such as memory processing.  During trauma, your brain thinks ‘processing and understanding what is going on right now is not important! I’ll get back to the processing later.’ As such, until the danger passes, the mind does not produce a memory for this traumatic event in the normal way. When your brain eventually goes back to try to  process the trauma, the mind presents the memory for filing it can be very distressing. The distress comes from the fact that the brain is unable to recognise this as a ‘memory’ as it hasn’t been processed as one. As such,  the facts of what happened, the emotions associated with the trauma and the sensations touch, taste, sound, vision, movement, and smell can be presented by the mind in the form of flashbacks – as if they are happening right now. ” Psychology Today. 

With eager enthusiasm, I readily moved from my abusive family home to my husbands safe loving one. You’d think this would be enough to keep the mind happy and the triggers at bay. Just the change in environment should be enough. Sadly, I discovered this was not at all true. All the years of locked door training to manage my triggers, was wiped clean in one swift moment. Table rosa. Sleeping snugly tucked against my husbands warm reassuring body with the door locked, I slept safely aware that no intrusion was possible. Boy was I dead wrong. Without waking, I heard the door unlock, the sudden sound of it churning triggered something deep inside. Before my mind could comprehend reality or facts, I froze in a terror suffocating my insides. Air choking in my dying lungs. Panic fiercely crawling into every single vein. My poor unsuspecting heart thudding rapidly against its cage. The silent voice inside screaming danger, my whole body alert in fear. Every cell shouting, be aware, you are at risk! Play dead, right now, do not move! Do you hear me? This may not make sense to you but please stay with me.  Life mocked me. This incident unravelled my feelings of security because my minds carefully crafted plan was just an illusion. It crumbled at the first hurdle. And after this moment, the unfolding events were pretty sad. I lost all momentum without fully realising. This one single moment, resetting years of work.

Where’s my mind at?

It is in a strange quandary, not knowing where next because for the longest period of trigger freedom, I became comfortable with the uncomfortable. Nothing in my mind had truly changed just the way I perceived it had. In fact, an unlocked door still creates the same reaction it did when I was child. However, I was in no danger yet my body and mind responded as it was dealing with a real life threat. Therefore, what is my mind holding on to and why do I hold it? Without shame, I admit I am holding on to fear and pain. I believe that I am not safe especially when I am asleep because that is when I am the most vulnerable. I can trust no one to protect me and I am not sure I can even protect myself. However, I am my own responsibility, I relied on my parents to protect me but no more. No one but I am, responsible for my mind, body and soul. I am scared of being hurt and humiliated again. So, I am unable to unlock doors because I cannot let any of this in again. My mind hangs to this, even when I have a positive, hopeful and proactive approach to life. Imagine if you couldn’t hold on to the light, then what becomes of your mind? And is all of this justified because I was petrified as a child so I can continue like this? I don’t have the answer to this. I do honestly believe with work and commitment, we can repattern our minds to behave and think differently. Then why cling to trauma, when a healthy version awaits somewhere?

This glittery cloud of colour reminds me that we cannot ignore the voice of the mind. It may create noise, most of which you should happily ignore. However, our mind also has the capacity to reflect back our thoughts and perceptions, which our memories provide a language for. This language thus creating fixed permanent patterns, possibly which protect us but are not always conducive for a thriving soul. My patterns are shaped by trauma, which are based on no real awareness of healthy coping mechanisms because I was a child at the time. Now, at 39 I am not that girl and her survival tools don’t seemingly suit me. I am as perplexed as you are. I don’t know what to do next or how to safely manage a trigger or recover from it. However, as I am not a shy wallflower hiding in the shadows, I do know that the only person who can change her mind is me. Our mind has the power to shine light on our negative perceptions, our negative voices, our negative stories. It is not necessary that these voices, memories or words are our own. Yet, if you didn’t hear them, how would you begin to undo any of it? I am not my past I fully believe that, however without denial I am sometimes affected by it so can I pretend it doesn’t exist? And if I can how does this serve me? I am tired of running away from the fear. Aren’t you? Although confronting it is in no way or shape a pretty picture but will ignorance help more? My mind is easily distracted with new ideas, so I will not recall these relapses. However, I don’t wish to relive these moments over and over again. By acknowledging what my mind is saying, I can take responsibility for my life and how I am living it. There are no guarantees that I will be able to figure it out anytime soon, I am though willing to try.

I bet a quiet mind = quiet emotions. It doesn’t feel like much fun knowing this but I love to feel everything so rightly so, it won’t be filling me with ecstasy. Whatever floats your boat. In the hope that our quieter minds, create greater emotional harmony, I would like to assert with some work and dedication, we can become an evolved version of ourselves without the sword of fear and shame hanging over our necks. Unless you like swords swinging at you.

Friend request declined for now.

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Would you accept? The message here, isn’t to say that you should not accept yourself for your truth. All I am trying to highlight is that the duality of our nature is what makes us unique. But our minds hold the key to our inner stories. This determines the choices we make, which go on to shape and structure our actions and reactions. I think without the mind, we would not be fully able to access all the parts of ourselves. So if we don’t cleanse our minds, like our bodies we are operating from shaky ground. Who wants that? Well, not me. I want you to begin your mind cleanse with me. One day, we will bump into each other. Our powerfully clean minds connected cosmically to facilitate a higher vibrational frequency only accessible to us amazingly magical souls. I wait until we are equally ready to accept each others requests.

My mind is on devouring duty. Currently, we are trying the suggestions of the video below. Please try it and let me know what you find.  Farewell, dear minds. We will meet again. And that’s a promise.

Photography credit to the artists for such beautiful pieces. Quotes referenced from Wikipedia and Psychology Today.

The Guilt Trip

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Are you guilty?

Like me, have you never noticed that you’ve been clinging to the sad comfort of guilt? The ache in the pit of your stomach churning ever so consistently that you no longer can live without it? You see, never before had I really paid much attention to the feeling, that when one day the random penny of connection dropped inside my crystal clear mind; I didn’t know what to make of it all. For the first time in a long time the noise was well simply not there. Instead, there was sharp crashing of reality, which slipped pass through a fragile net of emotional safety. Especially for a “feeler”, the thought eventually was like a rough crack in my mirror. Typically, I “feel” guilt all the time. So how did I get here? I am not one for psychedelic trips, apart from one failed attempt at magic mushrooms, which unfortunately ended my birthday celebrations in a solitary puke purge. However, interestingly, I note that negative emotions suffer the same fate. They also make me physically sick. I know the point here, isn’t the somatization of emotion but I did find it enlightening. Guilt actually makes me sick, rather ironically I have CFS/ME so I am walking a fine line with this self-pity party I am throwing myself. Do you feel this way or does yours manifest in the same way? Perhaps, I am not alone on this sick train of inner turmoil and I have company, I am yet to find.

Before indulging deep into my personal woes, I decided to look up the term “guilt”. Primarily because I am an information whore but more so, I hate to not know the facts. Come on, if the facts are wrong, then so are many other things. The domino effect is critical. This is the one lifeline to end all of this ridiculous misery. I refuse to tumble without valid justifications. Therefore, in case I misinterpreted its original meaning, I went on a definition binge. Unsurprisingly, I conclude that I don’t suffer from lack of guilt.

“Guilt is the fact or state of having committed an offence, crime, violation, or wrong, especially against moral or penal law; culpability: He admitted his guilt. a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offence, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined.”

“What is self guilt? Individuals high in psychopathy lack any true sense of guilt or remorse for harm they may have caused others. Instead, they rationalise their behaviour, blame someone else, or deny it outright. A person with psychopathy has a tendency to be harmful to his or herself and to others.”

Without any doubt, I suffer from a guilt complex. One, which has taken root in my heart and refuses to let up. This is no medical diagnosis, it is a personal one from my school of guilt. I have mastered this art without any real conscious effort. I am not even trying to deny it, so that’s saying something.  What exactly is my crime? Or what is yours? Maybe we all suffer from a communal, collective guilt? Who knows? Let’s think about it. When did you last feel guilty about something? In my case, I have spent the last three months in America feeling guilty about my husband overworking. Somehow, I managed to feel guilt about being in the way of his relationship with his son. The son he hadn’t seen for two years. Then, I felt guilty about wanting to spend time with him. Funnily, I also felt guilt about wanting our relationship to be how it used to be not this now you see me, now you don’t. The clumsy emotional decision of my lonely heart, drove me to a snap decision of spontaneously visiting when I knew he had a lot on, also causing so much grief. On overall, I pretty much felt guilt for being in the way all the time. Before, I knew it, I returned to England, where I am guilty of many serious crimes. During my previous visit, I had hurt my mother by marrying without her consent. Outcome: guilt. I damaged my relationship with my sisters. Outcome: guilt. I offended my other sister by marrying a Black man. Outcome: guilt. Worse of all, upon my return, after 15 years, my youngest sister told me that  she was sexually assaulted by one of my friends who I had once trusted her with when she was 12. Outcome: unforgivable amounts of guilt. Now, that’s guilt on another level. I cannot even begin to unpack that for you.

The thing is though, this unravelled a belief, which had so much subliminal power over me. The culprit: guilt. Guilt has played such a significant role in my life and in how I process and receive information. Basically, I feel I am preconditioned to this idea of mistreating others that I failed to notice the power it had over everything. I can actually carry on with all the thoughts that make me feel guilt but it is pointless because I know now, I had no conscience recognition of it. It is like guilt bypassed my awareness and slipped into my subconscious like a date rape drug that had kept me sedated for so long. Would I have realised otherwise? I somehow doubt it. I live in a world where self-responsibility is held to the highest order, so all of my actions demand accountability for their choices. I might as well hang myself right now because it is an impossible standard to hold one self too. But did I relent? Fuck, no. Yet, sitting in front on my laptop screen, I ask myself. What’s the point of it all? I cannot change any of it. I cannot rewind back to 15 years ago to erase that choice where my sister was alone with a child molester. Neither can I undo the moment where as a child, I decided not to say anything about my own abuse. Or as the adult when I decided to tell my family about it. They are all actions in the past. The thought before I type it, is in fact now in the past. Then what is it serving? I mean, yes; guilt can help with our moral compass but when does it go to far? In reality, my husband is busy, it his choice to spend his time as he wills. I cannot change his choices so are my needs justified? Do I have to feel guilty or am I programmed to now feel in such a way that I don’t know how to let go? After all, if I am accountable for my actions, then shouldn’t my thoughts and feelings comply to the same standard?

Guilt appears to be a revolving door, the one I cannot seem to step out of. I am not sure if it’s because I don’t know how or I am unwilling too. It could be very possible that I am confining myself to the negative thought as opposed to my humanitarian values. Perhaps, this isn’t about humanity or morality but simply a precedence for a feeling that has taken root in my early psyche. Is it really unkind to want time with my husband when his son needs him? Or is it just that I miss him and nothing more than that? I won’t lie, I don’t know how to get past my sisters truth. Although, I have started to churn the wheels of process and reflection. I understand and accept that she is entitled to her anger and hate towards me. I don’t judge that. I should have known better and I should have protected her. So, is guilt justified here? Or am I afraid to let it go because I don’t want to feel like a dispassionate psychopath who has no remorse for her actions? Am I as guilty as the perpetrator? Are we two sides of the same coin? The fact that I am questioning it, should be an indicator in itself. I am no psychopath but I am also not narcissistic; this isn’t about my guilt, it’s about my sisters pain. I am not giving myself a get out of jail card yet do I deserve to punish myself even more than I already am? The actions of my younger self are already repaying the karmic price for this violation of trust. My sister wants nothing more to do with me. She can hardly stand to be in the same room and I don’t blame her. I can’t stand myself sometimes. I am not allowed to see her children or my other nieces and nephews. She will never resume a relationship with me. Neither will anyone else, willing want one. All of these facts, lead to this thought; what’s the point then? What function is my guilt serving? Other than confining me to a fate of sorrowful misery, it really isn’t rocking my boat with joy. I know, I made mistakes but the truth is- it is in the past. I am not disrespecting my sisters flashbacks or her. I really am not. I am merely stating that it has happened. We are on that journey already. The path in motion, with or without guilt.

Is it the death penalty for me? Off with her head!

I committed a crime. I betrayed the trust of a child who believed I would always protect her. You may believe it is what I deserve. Do I believe that? Today, my freshly opened eyes, see another reality. If you asked yesterday, I would have agreed with you. Today though, I wonder if it is possible to forgive yourself? Think about it. There are variations in the degree of guilt we feel for each of our actions. I don’t feel the same guilt for everything. And maybe if I began with my smaller crimes, I may eventually be able to recover from it all. Realistically, if we chose to do nothing, then we are holding ourselves in a pattern of self-destruction and dysfunction. Even the thought, “I committed a crime” needs deep reflection. You can’t just consent to your emotions without some rational reasoning. Misery breeds misery, I am sure the lesson isn’t that. Ultimately, if we are responsible for actions towards others, then aren’t we held accountable for the same for ourselves? Then why come last? Of course friends, I am also not a legal professional so none of this would stand in the court of law but if you are the judge and jury, then I say you have some control over the outcome. Is it off with your head for every mistake you’ve made? Inevitably this tug of war between emotion and thought, shouldn’t mean you lose in the end. I have not been thinking, I have been feeling. Instinctively I feel before I think but it doesn’t mean all my feelings are apt or reasonable. The sad truth is our feelings are programmed since birth and thus reinforced by our life experiences and observations as children. Surely we can find psychologically and scientific evidence for this if we wanted. My question to you is- do you enjoy this guilt trip? Is the high – low worth it? I can’t change or regulate something I don’t know exists, until I do.  It’s a fair rebuttal. I agree with you. But now you do. Like I do. What will we do next?

I have one small request, would you be willing to hold me accountable for this deeply rooted emotional evil that’s consuming my existence? I want to practise forgiveness, yet I know I am scared. Until I believe, I deserve it, will you kindly help me? I don’t want to evade responsibility for my mistakes but I want you to remind me that I can let it go because holding it, isn’t healing. I am only perpetuating a cycle of negative emotion, which won’t make anyone happy, especially not myself. Will you join me in collectively dumping our guilt complex and maybe with support, we will move away from a lifetime of subconscious pain. In the end, our life is a journey. We make choices that hurt us and hurt others. However, I am beginning to accept that suffering necessarily isn’t the only way to learn. Forgiveness, healing, compassion and kindness is not only for others. It is also for one self. And wait before you question whether it is selfish or not, I will put you out of your misery. Self care is not selfish; it is self-service, without it we cannot offer true meaning to anything beyond ourselves. I know, these are mere words. Actions. We need actions. What are we waiting for? Start now, with your own reflections.

The cosmic calls. How do you respond?

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Photography credit to original artists.

Quotes referenced from Webster Dictionary.

Toxic Waste

 

 

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Can sunny vibrant flowers grow in toxic waste?

I recently began to imagine myself as a Peace Lily. However, my question today is, can I really be one? Without the sad duet of a broken record, I am going to for the last time, paint a snap shot of my colourful life. Although initially this may appear a tad depressing but please be assured, I did get my happening ending not the elicit massage parlour kind. Almost wishful, I know. There are no dreaded cliffhanger in this Once Upon a time tale. So hang tight dear friends. Before the light there is some ugly we need to weed out as this sets the precedence for my point.

Two years ago, whilst browsing the complicated world of online companionship, I stumbled across the unexpected. After, my recent affair with a chronic illness, I never visualised my entire life being turned topsy turvy by one spontaneous moment of mere boredom. Amongst the many smiling faces, one familiar stranger, many moons away, called out in ways I hadn’t even imagined possibles. His words danced on the screen in a wild electric energetic current, sheepishly pulling me towards the future. If it wasn’t for this magical intervention of the cosmic order, I do not doubt where my life would end. My pathetic tomb stone would read, “if only, she had dared to live”. The meaningless autopsy report signed by a cold stranger, would say, cause of death- toxic family syndrome. The end evidently obvious to the blind. The toxic cycle of my family is deeply entrenched in compulsion obsessed with the various versions of abuse. My whirlwind romance, paving the path for a chance at life I stopped thinking was possible. I cannot recall when I stopped dreaming about a better future. I really don’t.

20 years ago, I recovered memories of child sex abuse by a “supposed” biological brother. I say supposed because I have no desire to be associated or attached to him or our shared history in anyway. Since, that critical incident, I have been dealing with how my family coped with this information. My mother refused to believe it. Of course, Muslims know better. One of my sisters couldn’t forgive me because I ruined her childhood by telling her my truth. And well, I’ve been blamed for pretty much anything possible over the last 20 years. You’re wondering, why talk about it now? Right? You already have your happy ending. Interestingly, the past cannot be left in the past, if other people don’t let it be. Without making excuses or judgements, I want to ask you,

Can you leave the past where it belongs or does it find ways to creep into your present? And if so why?

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My recent return to this ugly hell has opened doors to a toxic dumping ground that for some bizarre reason I feel has been left behind, which simply hasn’t. It seems to be thriving here. Please note, I haven’t been back for more than two weeks to be precise. I arrived last Sunday, as I face this new one, I am reminded of how our history seems to have a hold on us. Be it be abuse or anything, are we really ever free from it? I am going to a momentarily flash forward. I married an amazingly gentle soul who is filled with light, love and joy. His beautiful smile lights up my heart with a warm glow. He has shown me nothing but unconditional love, without judgement or reservations. Love that my family has never been able to give me. I was never good enough to meet their expectations or preconditions for love. Yet, here I am, back in 1989, 2001, 2005, 2011 and today, all thrown in one messy chaotic cauldron of bitter hate.

Now, my mother is 68, with early onset of dementia. Her memories a painful mix of regret and sadness. I don’t have the energy or willingness to prove anything to her so I let it be. My sister, still unable to forgive me for betraying and breaking her trust. It’s as if she did me a favour by granting me some version of a relationship, which at the time I gratefully accepted. Loneliness clinging greedily to any signs of acceptance, be at unhealthy or not didn’t matter. It wasn’t remotely on my consciousness. I was hungry to belong to anything. Family was the easiest scapegoat. However, the quite nudging of self respect made a sudden appearance into my awareness. It forced me to witness the reality of my life. I was a puppet on a string in service to a toxic relationship with an angry, cruel person who I didn’t actually like. Granted, I should have said something sooner and acknowledged my needs but I really never had the metaphorical balls to do so. My fear of conflict, keeping me shackled to a place of silence. I was a victim of my own mental health. I believed it was kinder to forgive and forget. So over the years, I’ve been filling a wishful well with my forgiveness. A well with no end.

Today, my other sister reminded me how I was this vile, selfish and nasty excuse for a human for not being able to forgive the “abuser”, her brother. A brother who is a child of illness and mental health issues. A courtesy never once extended towards the real victim of the crime. Yes, it is a crime for those who still may not know- sex with a child is a crime and nothing you say can deter from the fact.

You would think I would be upset by this and if it upsets you, please don’t be. In fact, I am not. I have been accused of so many violations of humanity that you would suppose I was a heinous monster. Actually, I am bemused by the madness of it all. The lengths that people can go to appease themselves is utterly insane. Let’s be logical here. The person who is responsible for this madness, is unaffected by his actions. He inflicted us with a disease that unfortunately no one has been able to find a cure it. I bet on this freezing cold evening in England, he is probably snugly tucked away at home, with his wife and children watching Netflix with no care in the world for the devastation he once left in his wake. Yet, the only people talking about or being impacted by this, are in my orbit.

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In my reality, I have nothing to say or understand. What was done, is well done. I am no longer a vulnerable child but here we are again, infringing on that child’s sanity without any care for my well-being. Although their cruel taunts and unjustified justifications for his actions and choices are sad, I feel nothing. I know that in actuality this cycle, places the blame on the shoulders of an innocent 8 year old. However, I am able to recognise that this is not my cycle. I did die with that little girl but I am born again to live without the label of damaged goods.  This toxic waste of abusive histories, that is determined to poison us until we choke to death and die is a mere choice. No one is really willing to choose life, any attempts to escape, only leads back to it. So we are slowly dragged back in and suffocated from the inside out. Where now, you ask?

As a child, I believed I was a butterfly without wings. I so badly wanted to fly away from this tortuous death sentence, where joy dared not visit. Happiness was a sin. But sadly, I wasn’t able to float away in the bosom of a liberating brisk wind. Instead, I changed my perception. In my mind, I became a Peace Lily, grounded in mother earth with strong, solid roots. A foundation alive in the many connections it served with the other grateful sorts. I would blossom and flourish into peaceful ecstasy. Now, this experience with my family fills me with self doubt. I’m just not sure that I can survive in this toxic land, where nothing but misery grows. It clings like cancerous cells, trying its best to drain my soul of its light. Until this morning, I remembered that I was born again. And every time I forget, my heart and soul knows the truth. We are not family. We are adults defined by our history. It is not a chance encounter, it is our destiny. Interconnected? I think not anymore. Simply blood running through veins and nothing more than that.

I am afraid that my fragile petals will be crushed beneath violent angry feet who deliberately seek to snuff the brightness out. Where before, I was able to forgive, the ugly side effects of this war stare at me as my reflection. For once where I was patient, compassionate and kind, instead I now find myself irritated with unkind thoughts. I cannot even stand sharing my personal space with them. Where before my words were well thought out, they now care little of the consequences. I have definitely passed the peaceful baton back to a long dead Mother Theresa.

Is the toxic waste killing me? In the end, do contaminated roots really never let the buds blossom?

The truth is I am evolving into what? I cannot fully be sure. All that I do know is that it won’t be too far from humanity so why worry so much about something that I no nothing about yet? I mean we cannot live in the past or future. And in the present, I don’t see myself turning into a vile beast. Will their toxicity kill me? Of course it will, if only I allow it too. And well, damaged roots are damaged that’s no lie. But does it and should it or can it determine us? I would say that all depends on you and what you decide for yourself and your life.

I will not die in this way because I do not want it to have such power over me. My point is simple. Although, the abuse happened a long time ago, it’s ripples appear to not fade with such ease and everyday I realise because we don’t let it. How do we heal when in fact we are igniting the flames and no one is really making the effort to recover from it?Harsh it may seem, yet we cannot also keep one foot in the past with the hope, we will one day move on. To actively move on, we would have to let the past go and be present in today. Temporarily, I am reliving the madness because I chose to be here, for now together with them. But I also made a promise to live. And I am the one facing my soul, no other. So the only barrier in my actual life is my own mentality and inner voice. If I give my power to the noise, then I am abusing myself. I am responsible for that pain, no one else. Thus far, for as capable as I am, I intend to honour this promise no matter how long it takes. All, I have to say to my family is, I wish you the best. I hope you can heal but I cannot help you because you are unwilling to help yourself. With that, I am at peace with myself because their feelings and judgements about me, neither define or describe my truth.

I hope to pass the time in the present, with as much kindness as I can offer. With love in my heart and soul, I forgive myself for the pain I have caused. And I forgive my family, for what they do not see. I have one chance at life, I will not be poisoning my soul at any cost.

Peace Lily or not, I will win. I will remind myself everyday, until it is intuitive that I have control over my life, my body, my mind and my actions.

Today, he has no power and neither does my family. They choose this cycle. I do not choose it. Currently, I am the best version of myself and he will not strip my dignity anymore. Neither will you.

I would like to thank you for your patience and time. I hope these words can help you too. Please share your thoughts, journey, truth or whatever you feel will help you heal from the toxicity in your life. Every day is a new day, remember we are born every moment and we can choose to do something different not simply comply to what we know.

Toxic waste and history doesn’t define your existence. You do. So live in peace, love and joy.

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Photography credit to original artists.

 

Fucked Up Forever?

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Behind the dusky glimmer of a mischievous rain dance, the first cheeky rays of a proud rainbow appear as a reminder that the magic of life still lives on. Its pride obvious. The darkness in my soul lifting with this new day break. The harsh familiar voices still stinging slightly albeit a little distant for now, as another day is upon us. A chance to begin again. For the words of those who you share your most intimate self with are probably the most painful ones you will ever hear. Nevertheless in your heart, you only have love for them regardless of the pain they cause. After all, it all began with love. Always love, be it with family, friends or lovers. LOVE was what instantly connected your souls.

Although today, I may hurt, I remember a little story about a girl with unusually curly hair. A girl who only wanted to sprinkle the golden sparkle of love by her mere presence alone. For her, it didn’t matter who you were, or what you did. All she cared about was taking away the pain in your heart and filling it with magical joy. She had the abundant power of love to make you laugh with an innocent freedom that you may have once lost. Or simply to make you dance in delirious merriment with her imaginary friends as one big happy family. But then, one day she met life with its cold shoulder, breaking through her veil of blissful joy. It told her many things, many of which she would never have imagined one would say to another. But they did.

“Yes, you’re fucked up and you never said how badly in fact, you were fucked up”.

“You are damaged goods”.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you crazy bitch?”

“You are liar, you made it up.”

“You disgust me.” 

“I hate you. You are a vile human.”

“You should just die.”

The list goes on, I care not to continue in the hope to evade the pity party police.

To all those voices in my past, in my present, in my head– I have a message for you.

It is not my fault, I was sexually abused as a child by someone I loved and trusted. It is not my fault for having triggers I cannot manage at your convenience. It is also not my fault, that I have repressed memories and flashbacks that I cannot control. It is not my fault that my family is broken. It is not my fault, even today, it affects me in ways I may not even know.  It is not my fault, I cannot live up to your expectations. It is not my fault, I cannot heal your pain or hurt. It is not my fault that others hurt you too. It is not my fault you assume everything is wrong because of it.

It really is not my fault.

So today, I change this painfully old narrative. Words cruel, deliberate or not, from herein have no power over my life. Today, I may have lost that little girl, however, in this moment I am a woman who will no longer apologise for her past or how it impacts her life. And you may think what you like, I care no more. Honestly, I maybe fucked up but I can own it. I told no lies to anyone. I sold no idyllic dreams of a perfectly poised saint. I truly didn’t. Only, I will decide what that means, not you, not anyone else because you have not and cannot walk in my shoes.

I walk barefoot in the sand, where no other judges or belittles my struggles. It may not always be a fun filled walk in a sunny park, yet, I trust I will find my own light. I am happy as you walk on your own. I hold nothing but peace in my heart for you because your words will fade and so will the memory. For now, I am looking for that girl and her childish giggles. My story will unfold as it will and until then I will learn to find my own small feet regardless of what labels you hang over my tombstone.

Dear friends, I hereby invite you to change your narrative with me. We can write this story as many times as we desire. There are no limits. The ink on your pages, is yours to determine. Your destiny in your very own hands. You are the author of this wonderfully confusing tale. The invisible hands of comfort reassuringly creating a chain for change. For really, no matter how alone we ‘feel’, we really never are. It is simply finding that voice in the dark who willingly will hear you without judgement and rejection because true love never has conditions or regrets. Even though your heart might hurt, please know, someone else in this blank void, knows how you feel. So please join me today, by writing your new beginning. I wait in anticipation for a new family who I know co-exists behind these blank pages. 

From my heart to yours, we are one. 

Forever and always, fucked up or not. 

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Photography credit to original artists.

The Strange Boy


The Strange Boy

He was a stranger. To be honest both of us two shy passersby. We seemed to cross each other in the same place everyday. I was 16, he 18 years old. Then one day suddenly, he broke our silent pact. He stopped his motorbike and waved. His green moss eyes staring at me, as the wind ruffled his long hair. He never seemed to wear a helmet but who was I to point out the obvious. I pushed my glasses back and stared blankly in confusion. I can’t remember if I replied but I rushed off rather quickly. It could have almost been the beginning of Romeo and Juliet but thankfully boys didn’t interest me even when all everyone talked about was the opposite sex. Gross! It was never going to be on my radar. Study and college my focus- nothing could get in the way of my goals. Boys were an unwelcome distraction. I refused to let them in- including green eyed bikers in leather jackets.


Summer 1995 

Dear Diary,

Hey! Captain Puberty! Whoa! Finally, G.C.S.E’s are over and out! My blood and sweat saved temporarily for a short while. Thankfully, no more revision or exams until College. Amma ji, desperately wants me to be a doctor but since I have no idea what I want, I am going along with it for now. I have to get the grades so who knows what happens next? Until then, I worry not! Happy dance with me, please? I promise thereafter, I won’t bore you with anymore study dramas. Plus, I have more interesting news to catch you up on. I bet you can’t wait right?

I have almost overcome the scary truth about how babies are really made. Allah isn’t dropping them off! They are made by my parents. Oh gross! Eeeew. I can’t believe that one day my body will carry another human. I am going to say it again. One day I will carry a human in my belly. Oh God! I feel sick at the thought. No wonder Amma ji didn’t tell me, she really must hate it too! I can’t decide if I should be grateful to biology classes and those secret library books I’ve been stealing for opening this yucky can of worms or disappointed. I kinda of wish, I didn’t know the truth! What am I supposed to do with this? At least Amma ji didn’t have to indulge in the details. I’d hate to see how that would go. Oh! My poor ears! My poor eyes! Yuck! Yuck! Yuck! I have scary images of my parents, which I wish I could burn away from my overactive imagination. I will save you the torment of finding out how the sperm forces it way to a poor helpless egg to have its wicked way with it. What if the egg doesn’t want the sperm? How ever will she repel? Honestly, I don’t want to know the rest. The poor egg, it has my sympathies. 

So, dear Captain, this is how I was conceived.

Perhaps some secrets are better kept than not. Anyway, moving on from the oldies, I have other questions. I don’t really understand how this actually happens in real life. You know, you have to find a boy that you like and then you have to touch each other. How do you even know what to do? Obviously Amma ji and Abba, were married but who told them how to do these things? Will there be a crash course? I will obviously have to get married first. My head hurts thinking about this. Marriage is so far away. I won’t lie Captain, I won’t. The thing is I am a teeny bit curious but not enough to find out for myself yet. Who wants to get married at 16? That’s crazy talk. I am not getting on that train. Amma ji, did say if I wanted I could marry a cousin in Pakistan. I totally said a big fat NO!

By the way, everyone at school has a crush on either a teacher or a friend. I have no crushes and I am sure no one has one on me either. To be clear, I don’t want to like boys. I don’t like boys. Actually, I don’t know if I like girls. I am not excited by any of this. It all feels contrived like we’re supposed to like someone because other people do. I don’t need a boyfriend. My eggs want to be left alone. It’s uncomplicated in my head. I have to study to get what I want. I want more from my life than a husband, kids and in -laws. The only way to achieve this is EDUCATION. This is the only way, I can have a different life to the one my parents have. I want to live! Plus, I can’t explain it, anyone other than Abba ji makes me queasy. I only like Abba ji. I don’t know why and I don’t feel like finding out.

I don’t exactly know someone who would tell me about the nitty -gritty details of love-making. And I can’t entirely trust the gossip mill so since, I am not exactly bothered, I have left it alone for now. Surely by the time I get married, I will find out but there’s plenty of time for that. There must be some religious explanation for this precise moment in my life.

Oh! Before I forget, you remember my green-eyed silent biker buddy- he’s not silent anymore. One day, out of the blue, he started to talk. Yeah, he spoke to me. ME! I don’t know why. I didn’t ask him either. I pretty much ran. I mean what was I supposed to say? Anyhow, the next time we bumped into each other, he handed me a note. Wait for it- it was a short story. Funny actually so I wrote one back. You now how much I love stories! Now I had a little audience, so I caved into my creative desires. And this was the start of our story telling marathon. It has been going on for awhile. I promise it’s not meant to be a secret but I’ve got no one to tell so its kinda of a secret, I guess. I thought it was innocent fun. No sperm and egg needed. We were storytelling buddies, I actually liked it until a few days ago he ruined it. RUINED it, I say! I blame his sperm, it must have wormed its way into his brain and sucked his sanity away from him.

We don’t actually talk to each other. We exchange notes! In the last one, he ever so dramatically declared his undying love for me! Really, I mean it. He did! He said- he loved me and would do so until the end. I am surprised he didn’t slit his wrist in his desperate pleas. At first I thought it was a joke. It would have been a funny joke. Oh, no no. It was not! Why couldn’t it be simple?

Urgh! What is wrong with boys? I didn’t want his love, I didn’t ask for it. I wanted to share word art not his love. Yuck! I still don’t understand why he would love me? He doesn’t know me- well in reality he doesn’t, he knows my stories. Anyway, truth be told, he’s the least of my worries because guess what? Amma ji found the notes. Drum roll. I really think she was going to have a heart attack or definitely ready to burst a vein. I wasn’t scared, I did nothing wrong. However, she doesn’t believe me. She thinks he’s my boyfriend and I am going to run away or something ridiculous but I will wait until she calms her little fragile self. I was honest- he was a buddy but I didn’t know his name. That’s all there is to it. I don’t know if I will be able to go college now but if I can’t I will never forgive him! This is all his fault. Why couldn’t we just have had a platonic relationship? Why did he have to ruin everything?

Thankfully, the wait wasn’t long. I can go College on the condition I stay away from this green eyed monster. I will happily stay away! You don’t need to convince me. I promise you. I am not sacrificing my future for a boy. However, I am so grateful that Amma ji decided to believe me. I don’t know what would happen if I had to stay at home. I would probably have to get married but I know Amma ji really wants me to study so no more boy trouble. So far, for the time being all my curiosity is sated. Until the day, I get married, I am staying as far away as possible from these good for nothing boys. Captain, this is the only way forward. I am not allowed a boyfriend and I don’t also want one. I just wish Allah doesn’t plant anymore distractions in my path.

Rightio! This is all I have for now. I will of course promise to keep you posted on any developments.

Love you,

WildFlower