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.
I often wonder why women stay.
Stay in abusive relationships, stay for the kids, stay because of the stigma, stay because it’s what people expect from them.
Men, they stay too.
I never did understand why anyone would stay when staying means compromising on your happiness, on what you want from your life. Staying while wanting desperately to escape. Feeling hopeless and helpless yet still staying.
I think, I kind of get it now.
Staying is so much easier.
The familiarity of knowing what things are and what to expect. The convenience of ignoring the taste of failure. The guilt of wanting more than just this, for being ungrateful, the pressure of the people all around you. It makes it so much easier.
I see now how with age, comes compromise. Slowly but surely as time etches your skin with wrinkles, compromise after compromise engraves itself into your soul so that you believe it’s what you’ve always wanted.
I don’t want to be that person that compromises because its what’s expected. I want to be able to make my own choices without influence. I want to believe I own that freedom to choose.
I’m learning to accept that I don’t.
I no longer judge them for their choice… compromise takes courage.
The courage to give up something you wanted, courage to accept things for what they are and be satisfied with that.
To make that compromise, to live with it and eventually to find happiness in it.
It takes courage.
Hamish created an awesome tag and it might come really useful for any future husbands to know before they decide to spend forever with me.
1.I don’t handle people being late very well. It’s a pet peeve and makes me shitty. I find it offensive.
2. I like silence in the morning. I’m happy to communicate with sign language ( I will acknowledge your presence with a nod)
3. I would walk barefoot all the time if possible.
4 I prefer sitting on the floor than on a couch.
5. I function best under pressure
6. So unless I really have to do something, Procrastination is my friend.
7. I turn into a rebellious teenager if you command me to do something… don’t. Ask nicely and I’l hand it over on a golden platter.
8. I’m a dreamer. I can spend hours dreaming about everything and nothing. But then there’s the moment when I’m so excited at some idea that I can’t contain myself. No matter how ridiculous, I need you to be excited with me. I’l come down to earth in my own time
9. When I have big changes in my life, I need to cut my hair. ( yes, stop laughing, I can’t explain it)
10. I don’t cry alot and I don’t cry in front of many people.
11. I’m great at internalizing things, I shut the lid on it and in my own time I’l deal with it and move on. I like to figure it out in my own time and when I’m ready to share I will.
12. I need to be told things directly. I don’t get hints, I’m blonde like that.
13. My left eye sometimes looks squint to me and no one else notices.
14. I need intellectual stimulation for me to perform at my best. I get bored easily.
15.My parents will always be able to guilt me into doing things. Even if they not trying to, I feel guilty to say no and I end up doing things I don’t want to and then complain about it.
16. I am always peaceful at the beach.
18.Sometimes, I just want to fight, for no reason at all. Just look at it as an opportunity to make up after.
19. I can’t eat dates or banana’s on their own without feeling yuck. I’m also allergic to linseed and psyllium.
20. I’m going to ask your opinion on what to wear and then wear what I want anyway. It’s just what I do. Has nothing to do with you so just nod your head and leave it
seeing as I missed 17 I’ll go for 21
21. I like alone time. I don’t do co dependency. Space is important.
I tag everyone!
I have issues with Nationalism. The kind of Nationalism that dictates that country comes before everything else. The kind that inspires denial to the negatives of said country does not sit well with me. I think that I can be a good citizen while still wanting to see change in my country.
I sell body building products and one of the companies that supply us are giving away free books which gives you guidance to a workout that the SAS (Special Air Service) do. In the book there are pictures of our Australian SAS troops, pictures with them and an Afghan smiling, his home in the background and the troopers gun in hand. Then there’s the picture of the SAS troopers with a dog on a leash etc etc. They are all smiling pictures in glossy colour. I refused to have these books in my shop. It might seem very insignificant but i refuse to be promoting an illegal occupation, and I don’t want a reminder about the soldiers and their dogs at Abu Ghraib. The SAS perform many duties, they train in many places so why not use pictures of them training in outback Australia? The Afghan occupation like the Iraqi occupation is ILLEGAL and nothing we say and no amount of promotion will change that. Most importantly, it doesn’t make me un – Australian to think that. It’s a human rights issue and I don’t need to have to justify my thoughts or opinions.
The question of Nationalism, what it means to be Australian, what Australian values are have been on the table for a long time now with no conclusions. The underlying premise that Muslims are the one’s that need to step up and adopt these so-called values is getting abit old. Until these values are defined, we no closer to reaching a conclusion.
We see politicians and journalists jumping on France’s bandwagon of wanting to ban the hijab and the niqab. It’s beyond comprehension for me how this piece of cloth is an issue of emancipation for all women, how my religious beliefs mean I’m not Australian enough.
Quite honestly, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the assumption that I’m too stupid to make my own decisions, that it’s unfathomable that I could have CHOSEN to wear a head scarf, that the sight of me conjures images of an oppressed women ( this one really flabbergasts me, I mean seriously). I find it incomprehensible that the people who want to free me from oppression seek to impose on me their will. If I make a choice within their scope of things it’s all good, the minute I make a choice that doesn’t fit in with that then they believe it’s their duty to free me. FUCK OFF! oh wait, that’s not the kind of language an oppressed Muslim women from the stone age should use right?
I’m sick of the damn debate, I’m sick of having to explain that this is what I choose, that Islam gives me rights, that culture ruins so much of religion, of having to constantly explain why I believe what I believe, why I cover my body and hair. I’m sick to death of it.
I can’t always be expected to put a smile on my face and try to explain it to every moron that wont get it anyway.
So from now on, my answer is simple…. FUCK OFF!
I woke up this morning and thought that I want a chance to do it all again.
Back to age ten…No, not ten
Back to the cradle
A new start… to do it all as I choose.
I’ll do it better this time.
It’s a sobering thought to know just how much I’d change.
It was a sad thought.
I’d erase some of my most beautiful memories.
It puts things into perspective.
I decided to make some changes in my life this year, I’m reminded that I need to get on with it instead of thinking about how to make it happen.
So much in life is a leap of faith. I’ve always been good at taking the risk and making it work.
Now, is when it counts. If it doesn’t work, it’s not the end of the world.
Today a friend of mine made me laugh, it was such a wonderful feeling because it came out of nowhere and was just so genuine.
It made me so grateful for what I have. It made me think that no matter what, it’s not acceptable to forget how much I have to be thankful for.
Here’s to turning 28 this year and making the most of every moment so that when I turn 50, I’m not wanting to undo the last 22 years.
For the hundredth time in 15 years enough was enough, she was leaving. She was not going to take this abuse anymore, she was not going to be unhappy every single day. She was going to make a change. She was determined no matter what.
She packed their bags, she rang her brother, she was never returning to this hell.
For the hundredth time she explained to her family what he was doing, the welt on her face enraged the men in her home, her mother tried to keep everyone calm. She soothed the kids and put them to bed. Her mom said to her things will be different in the morning light. Not this time, she thought, This time I am determined no matter what.
She stayed strong in her determination and she didn’t flinch no matter what his family said. She prayed for guidance and remained silent and steadfast. It was over.
The kids played up, tears, tantrums and she stood firm.
The kids played up, manipulation and guilt and she started to get weak.
Weak in trying to do it on her own but not weak in her determination. It was over.
Her dad vowed to support her, couldn’t believe this is what her life was like over the last 15 years. For the first time she felt like she was understood and her determination grew. She knew she could do it now and it would be easy. She had their support.
She smiled, the scent of freedom near.
He started to beg, he wanted her back. The game is familiar but she knows she is never the winner and she remains determined.
The kids played up and chose their father in the midst of a tantrum and they broke her heart. No matter how many times they took it back and stayed, they hurt her more than he ever did.
Her father told her that her kids need a father, even if it is just in name.
Her mother told her it is her duty to persevere, maybe he will change. She must give him another chance. After all, who wants a divorced woman with 3 children, who will support her, where will she stay.
She looked to her brother who only a couple of weeks ago wiped her tears, he looked away.
Her uncle told her that she must go back to him, she cannot burden her parents at their age and what shame she’d bring on herself and her children, that sometimes men get angry. Try harder, he said, maybe you are doing something to displease him.
She wiped away her tears.
She rang him the next morning asking him if she could come home.
He opened the door, the kids rushed in, ecstatic that they were finally back home, it was all going to be ok.
There was not a tear in sight as she crossed the threshold, but her eyes were dead.