That Him and I were not meant to be
In my waking moments, conscious
Every moment without
My womb being ripped out with cold gnarly sharp fingers, bloody
Never to be the same
That him and I were never meant to be
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I’m surrounded by single woman. Woman not single by choice but by fates cast of the dice.
Newsfeeds are inundated with opinions, articles, lectures, all searching for the answer to this drought in the marriage season.
That’s all well and good. No one seems closer to any answers. So where does that leave us?
All the single ladies.
In this day and age, woman are well capable of taking care of themselves. They have careers and earn their own money and in most cases are financially independent.
Humans by nature need love, they need affection, they were created to want to mate, to need companionship.
Where do we get that from?
Sure, our families love us, so do our friends but is that enough?
Society, families and friends, well meaning or not, make us feel like we are failures, for not being chosen to be someone’s forever after. More importantly, we make ourselves feel worthless as the years start to go by and the prospects get fewer and fewer.
It leaves us having to put on a mask when facing these people to protect an already bruised ego and lonely heart.
Where do we single Muslim women go to for physical affection?
Sometimes, all you need is a hug and there’s only so many times a hug from your dad can make it all better. And what of those who don’t have dads or whose fathers aren’t the hugging types?
It’s haram to touch your guy friends. And let’s face it, a hug from your female friends doesn’t always cut it.
Where does that leave us?
Starved of love and companionship and starved of physical affection.
God in his infinite wisdom did create us male and female for a reason.
How do we find that sense of completion without the opposite sex?
Is it possible?
I don’t think that we can get people married, it’s unrealistic and hasn’t worked so far.
So what can we, as families and friends and communities do, to heal the hearts of our single sisters?
I’m not so sure about this.
I find it difficult to ask for things. It’s even harder to ask for things that I really want.
Part of that is the way I was raised but I think some of it is fear of rejection? Maybe?
Fear dictates so much of our lives, even when we don’t realize it.
Does fear dictate your actions?
He sits across the room in a wheelchair
His eyes are windows to 84 years
It all reflects in those watery not so blue pools.
He catches my eye
He smiles and it transforms him to the young man he once was.
And in him, I see my reflection.
He was once me
I will be him
We must all travel the same path
I lay awake and dream of you.
A fleeting vision of us leaves me aching for it to never end.
My head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.
I feel your heart thump against my cheek, your arms protectively surrounds me, your lips upon my head
And I, I am the luckiest girl in the world.
How is it possible to feel so safe, so loved,so…wanted?
I hold on so tightly to your memory, never wanting it to end, but I can’t stop it from floating out of my reach.
They talk about soul mates but this isn’t what this is, because to define this, is impossible
There are no words to describe what I feel. Love, my dear, is just not adequate enough for Us.
But in that embrace, when we come together and look into each others eyes, I know that we don’t need words to define what we feel, because it is mirrored in each other’s souls.
I don’t want to know about one more natural disaster
about how many lives were lost because of a car bomb
about the number of people dead because of war
I don’t want to know about the kid whose parents died in a car crash
and has to be fostered because no one has the humanity to take her in
I don’t want to know about the people who decided to have kids and then neglect them
I don’t care about whose husband, partner, whoever bashed her face in
I don’t care that we failing our children, at home, at school, in the community
I don’t care that they are consuming or dealing in drugs,
that they are joining gangs
I don’t want to know about every insignificant detail of your life that you think is the greatest tragedy
I don’t want to hear you whinge constantly about nothing!
I don’t care about your every thought,
your every opinion
I don’t care that we don’t have anything in our communities,
that they need to be built up,
that we need to move forward,
do something positive
I have reached saturation.
My phone rang at about 6am this morning. I was asleep. I ignored it. Silence. The message tone goes off. Voicemail. Keep sleeping. The phone rings again. I’m annoyed. I answer. I don’t know the person. She asks to speak to me, I say, speaking. She is in trouble and needs help. I’m trying to wake up to pay attention, to listen. I ask if she’s safe right now. She doesn’t understand me. I fail to think of any other way to ask this. My brain is foggy. I ask her where she is. At the train station. The problem is with her husband. Does she need me to get her now? She doesn’t understand. Is she Afghan? Arab? I need an interpreter. I tell her I will ring her back. She says no, you help me, my friend say you help me. Ok, I’m going to help you, hold on. I get an interpreter on the other line, then connect them. She is Arab. She is scared and she ran away from her husband. He is abusive and last night he almost killed her. She has no family here, she doesn’t speak much English. No. No.No police She won’t let me refer her on, she can only trust me her friend says.
And in that moment, all I wanted to do was crawl back in bed and say it’s too much now, it’s too much responsibility, it’s too many people who need, who want. Then reality kicks in, she needs help, now!
By the time my day at work started after 9 this morning, we got her into a refuge and found her a case worker. She won’t talk to them unless I tell her it’s ok. Unless I’m on the phone telling her in a language she doesn’t understand to go on, it’s ok. How do you put so much of blind trust in someone unknown to you? How do you take that trust and not break it? I don’t know how. I have been thinking about her all day, She is ten years younger than I am. She has left her family behind to start a marriage with this man half way across the world. She has lived two years of abuse, two years of hell. What happens now?
I know what happens now, I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want another fucking failed case where we couldn’t protect her. She needs to believe I can help her and I need to believe that we can. unfortunately the reality is different. She either gets sent back home because he’ll cancel her visa or she’ll have to go back to him and suffer his abuse. Either way, she loses. She’s only eighteen years old.
Tonight instead of going to a friends with my family, I’m going to go and take her some food and clothes and see what else she needs. I’m going to communicate with her through body language and sign language and make her feel like she’s not alone. And it breaks my heart and I’ll walk away with another piece of my heart-broken off. It’s not actually about me, I know this. But I need to find enough strength to make her feel strong enough to deal with this. I need to give her enough positivity and love with no words so that she feels a bit at ease.
I feel better now.
Pray for her.
I know why I follow my instinct, I am the only person I can trust.
Everyone, no matter who they are or what you mean to them, only cares about themselves.
It’s human nature.
I come on here so often to blog but either get distracted or find it hard to put my thoughts into words. Actually I often fail at expressing myself.
There is so much going on in the world and in my life that it seems like time is just going by so fast. There is just so much to do and so much to learn that I sometimes just get nothing done because I don’t know where to start. Does that happen to anyone else?
Figuring out where you fit in the world is hard work. Everytime you think you have it all worked out, you realise that you don’t.
We tend to look at ourselves with such rose-tinted, nay, rose painted glasses. I observe the way others talk about themselves and think Wow, that is nothing like you. It makes me wonder if I do the same thing. I think that I know myself really well and am comfortable in my skin but perhaps I, like them, are blinded to my true self.
It’s got me thinking and led to me wandering what I do to improve myself and I realised that I don’t do anything. There are no goals of self-improvement and I’m not talking about learning how to apply make up or an education, I’m talking about not doing anything to improve my personality, to strive to be a better person, to improve the way I view and interact with the world.
It’s arrogance actually, that makes me think I’ve got it all worked out, that I know best, that I’m perfect the way I am.
It’s so easy to take little things and pat yourself on the back and I realise I happily do that all the time. Measuring yourself by the positives people say about you is great but I wonder how we’d all feel about the negative that others say. How much would we accept and how much would we find a million excuses to dismiss.
It got me thinking further about how honest we are to each other and again got me self reflecting. How many of my friends am I honest with about themselves, I could pick only two that I could tell them whatever I wanted to and be totally honest. I knew they would be able to handle that honesty in a way that would not hurt our friendship. We try to protect people’s feelings and most of all we try to protect ourselves. In not being honest to them, am I just not being honest to myself?
Maybe we just overlook those things because the good outweighs the bad. We benefit enough from the good to blind ourselves to the other stuff. It’s so much easier to turn a blind eye to those that you love.
Love and selective memory should always go hand in hand.