I want to share something that I've been learning. Let's say I've been learning it over a long period of time but the lessons are only just starting to hit home.
I observe people. Not in a wierd or dirty way. I observe them because I am interested in understanding how they think. I have found that there are only a handful of "types" of people around me, but all of them have one thing in common. Let me explain.
Throughout my life I have usually been deeply respected or vehemently hated. I didn't understand what rubbed people the wrong way until I realised it's ethics. People are either ethical or not. The confusion steps in when ethical people try to "fit in" and go against their very nature just to be accepted by the crowd, or to "get ahead". For years and years I thought that Ethics and getting ahead, as a result, were mutually exclusive. I was told throughout my working life that "You'll never get anywhere because you can't rule by fear." I was also told "You will never get anywhere because you don't know how to use influencial people". I couldn't be less bothered by whether people felt I'd "get ahead" or not, nor was I phased at all by the fact that I couldn't "use people". In fact, I was proud of the fact that I never do. I never will.
Then, observing both the ethical, the unethical and the TRANSethical (lol) I realised that there is ONE element, one need, that all people have - the need for KINDNESS. The world is craving kindness. The world is craving people who will just allow them to be them, without judgement, without condescending behaviour and without WANTING something from them. I determined therefore to simply be me. I do consider myself a kind person because being kind has always, always been a priority for me. Note_ being kind does not mean being a pushover!
The next time you encounter a situation or person that you continuously struggle with, try putting aside your feelings of pride, wether or not you are in the right, and be KIND. THat means, if they retaliate with abuse, simply walk away IN PEACE. If they don't help you when they were supposed to, reach out a hand when they fall because Karma's ALWAYS a bitch when you are and they WILL fall. What has happened, as a result of being true to my own self and my own ethics whilst being kind to others? Slowly, my life began to change. I began to experience a 'softness' about myself that has changed ME. I don't need to prove a point to anyone anymore and yet I don't need to break anyone down who feels that urge.. Essentially, I'm at peace WITHIN.
So, have I amounted to "much"? How many people can say they go to bed at night and feel peace? Despite the problems, the ongoing wars, and despite (in my case) a couple of SERIOUS enemies that simply will not stop trying to destroy me, I am able to smile, I am able to be at peace, and I am able, deep within my soul, to be comfortable with ME.
KINDNESS.. now that's a weapon of mass construction!!
My mood: very blessed
I first came to EP during a crazy time in my life. I wanted an anonymous place to share my views and read the views of others. I realised, soon, that I needed to go back and work on myself. I went from one bad marriage to an atheist to divorce to marriage to someone I felt (and sometimes still wonder) I didn't deserve. EP was a way to find my own sense of self worth, as sad and pathetic as that sounds. Yes, my opinions are firm and my beliefs are true (alhamdolilah) but I was lost in so many other ways.. so many years of psychological and emotional abuse.. of wondering why I was being tortured (as a christian ) and then believing it, thinking I didn't deserve better.
Islam literally saved my life. It was through Islam that I realsied that I deserved better treatment. As a counsellor and professional analyst I should've KNOWN that, surely? So the self deprecation was the worst. I stopped counselling, stopped helping, stopped reading and talking and just SAT with my feelings, my Islam, and.. in time.. my peace.
I know there are economic and politico-social reasons for people wanting to discredit Islam and it saddens me that so many people believe only what they hear by the media who puppets the opinions of themasses in favour of the agendas that perpetuate the discreditting of Islam. But I cannot change that. I can only be me. Take me as I am or walk away and take your peace with you. I am muslim, and I am NOT a terrorist. In fact,those two are antagonist things - terrorism and islam. Not my job to convince you if you don't believe me, although if you have a question go ahead and ask.
I'm finally at a place where I'm content with ME and accept that I deserve love, kindness and happiness, as does everyone else. My life's not perfect and I'm now dealing with people who will go ALL out to strip me of the rights I've earned at such great personal cost.. but I'm fighting back spiritually, within myself, by keeping strong in who and what I am.
Indeed, floating to and from belief is like bouncing on the waves. Right now, alhamdolilah I am FIRMLY anchored. I'm a bit broken, a lot torn, and much healing needs to take place, but I'm trusting insh'Allah (God wiliing) that 2013 will be a better year.
My mood: extremely peaceful
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"Honey, can't make breakfast. please appologise on my behalf. I love you." it said. And then the reply. "No problem. Will do. I love you too."
She'd meant only to take an incoming call when his phone rang. He was in the shower. She hadn't meant that Jerico be around her, instead of a day of calm. She'd prayed, she'd hoped. The name from and to was not hers. It was his, and then his. How could that be? The ringing again. The first time the caller had hung up. She answered, hands and heart vibrating to a crescendo of madenning hate.. "I won't say a word" she thought, as she hit the answer switch. "Hi sweetie,don't fetch me at 7:30 as he's here. Fetch me at 7 instead.
The click. The damage done, ignored for far too long and now it screamed its brutal truth far louder than the water did. Calm. Rise. Go outside, and breathe. And so she did. She waited 'till the water stopped, 'till he'd dressed and was ready. Then summoning every ounce of strength and every drop of bravery she approached him, hand held out.
"What's this?" she asked. Calm again.
"What's what?" irritated by her voice, it seemed. That wasn't new, and yet somehow she'd found it long enough to ask. The message lay in her hand, she wouldn't hand it over. The evidence of a mind she had not lost, the sanity he had taken and for what?
"Oh that!" he laughed, head back and eyes glistening. She watched his arms, one scratching the other, his body turning as fully dressed he put away his night clothes. Methodically, straightening the crease, lining up the shorts. Except he'd put it in the wrong place.
"That's just guy talk! It's probably Justin fooling around." he tried to take the phone, her grip tightens. "Yip, it's Justine. I'll reply, here, give me the phone."
Her eyes shut, looking down, a smile so sad it would break his heart if he had one still. Looking down, she reached for the reply, then raised the phone to him, far enough that he could not snatch away the slow return of sanity. "You mean this reply?" she smiled.
Pale. Red eyes. Laughter again. Another denial. "call him if you dont believe him" knowing full well that 10 years beating a horse will not allow that horse to stand and trot even if the music seems right..
A few clicks, the number sent to her phone, the sms's forwarded as she turned her back this time, knowing it had been her last attempt. No more candles, no more waiting, no more lies. she placed the phone beside the bed and left.
"Come on!" he laughed. "What, you don't believe me?" she turned.
"Who do you think its from for goodness sakes!I go to work, come home, go to work,come home." she took a step toward the door.
"Answer me - huh!" his fists clenched, but weak. "You don't believe me?"
and then the word that catapulted through her dreams, the lies, the nights of torment, the years of rejection and the self loathing that she either had to restore to some form of self love or be destroyed.
Copyright @ 2010 Wysteria1 All RIghts Reserved.
She looked up at the clock as she walked past the lounge.. suddenly her heart raced nervously. He'd be home soon. Was supper ready? Was the table set? Not that he'd notice, since he hadn't actually cared if he was served noodles or steak. "I'm easy" he'd said since early days. And initially it had been a blessing, with work, and home, and baby growing in the belly.
The clock flicked away the seconds as the dinner grew cold, and her eyes grew heavy as she sat, candles lit, waiting. Perhaps tonight, she'd be able to break through the barriers that had somehow risen up around them. Perhaps tonight, would be Jerico time, and they could be like before. But thinking back, she couldn't pinpoint a time when the before she yearned for had ever actually existed, except when strangers were around, and his fingers laced hers, only to be dropped when the last car left, and the smiles faded, the walk slowed, and the eyes turned away as though the day had only been in her mind.
The phone. His mother. "No, he isn't home yet.."
- "No, I'm sure he's fine."
-"Yes, I tried his cellphone, he must be in a meeting. Sure , I'll give him the message."
What was the message again? Oh. Birthday dinner would be at Calisto's uptown. Bookings made for 7:30.
7:30 today had long gone. Then the car, and the sound of the gate motor, and a sense of hope. But then the door, the eyes, the "hi" and the icy void that followed as he walked past; some days he was already there, suddenly stepping out of the shadows, unannounced. Her fear didn't seem to affect him- it seemed, instead, to humour him as he took the paper, put his feet up, and began to read. And an hour later, the sound of the typing on the keyboard as she ate alone. He was sorry,he'd eaten something late and wasn't hungry. He hadn't had time to call.
Later still, the bed is cold. The rooms long since separated, about 3 years ago - long after he'd started going to bed late and rising before she stirred, when eventually the tears had dried and the loneliness had lulled her to restless sleep. A quick goodbye "I'm off" and the door shut. Relief set in.. as peace washed over the quiet walls that held no questions, the floors that held no soft "thud, thud" of feet that long ago had forgotten where she lived - where her heart resided.
It took a while before the lights had begun to shine upon her eyelids as she slept - waking to the flashlight pointed from above. "What's wrong" she asked, thinking the power had gone off. But the sound of the television in the background registered a faint connection to the energy that must surely be flowing in the walls.
"what's up, is something the matter?"she asked, panick setting in as his cold eyes bored into her face, his lips shut tight, wordless. He stood there. Staring. Unspeaking. A stranger with a light that brought only darkness. "Talk to me" she begged, then rose. At that, he turned, arms crossed, then walked toward the door, closing it quietly until a few hours later when the meaningless ritual would repeat itself.
And yet, each day, the clock stung the seconds into her mind just before the car drove up, and Jerico's walls summoned an ever diminishing spectre of hope, as she stirred the pots, and wiped the tears, and sprayed the perfume just once more. perhaps tonight.
copyright Wysteria1 @2010 all rights reserved.
My child surprised me today and left a lump in my throat. He has assembly at school every morning and tells me that he does not close his eyes for the "let us pray" moment. I asked him why. He said (he is only started school) "Because, mommy, I cannot be what I am not. I am a muslim in my heart and Jesus said to pray to God, so why must I pretend to pray to him just because everyone else does?"
He amazes me continuously. I have always taught him to think for himself - I answer his questions about anything under the sun and what I do not know we look up if Habibi cannot answer as well. As a result, he accepts that his "penis" is his own and he will share it one day with the woman who earns his respect and love, just like he will share his heart, devotion, love and respect with her. He knows all about menstruation and will sometimes ask me at that time if mommy needs a hot water bottle "to help the room fall away so your body can prepare another one in case you and dad get a baby?"
Every mother's child is special, of course! But I am so often stunned by his level of insight into things. He listens carefully to conversations. He turns off the tv if something inappropriate comes on because he doesn't want to "feed his soul rubbish" and just last week he said; "Mommy, I think Christians are funny! They say at school that God sent a star to show where baby Jesus was born. But they say the Jesus is God, so what - you telling me Jesus sent himself a star? God's no show-off; he doesn't HAVE to be!!"
I make duah he continues to grow up to ask questions, to seek truth, to dig through the very marrow of life to find the afterlife's glow warm and gentle upon his face. I can't believe there are people who would hurt children. They are so perceptive, so incredibly true to truth and I'm so glad mine has worked out that 1+1+1 (as in trinity) equals 3, and 1 is just not a lonely number - it is the first, into which everything is divisable, if we only but believe..
So grateful right now..
My mood: extremely grateful
Oh rays of early light that shine upon the dew-filled grass,
take my love across the miles on angels wings,
and rest upon the breast of a butterfly a while,
unti l my kiss once more rests softly on his hand..
let breath of mist be travel companion to this kiss,
and in that mist may all my thoughts and hopes lie hidden
spirited to him as now for certain he has laid his brow for rest upon his bed..
that brow that bows to a God we share
who lights the summer's eve with darting lights
and leaves the winter ground as cold as time apart from this, my lover's home
My heart finds rest only in Him above
and yet the sweet repose of lover's arms my soulmate gives,
my lover mine by script of Allah's hand
my husband heart's repose my love's command.
Sleep well habibi. Tomorrow, Insh'Allah.
My mood: extremely blissful
For the few friends here who actually followed with sympathy what's happening to "When's it time to leave" (see questions and answers)- Hubby and I sat him down, and face to face, we got to the nutts and bolts of the whole thing. And no, hubby didn't mind the calls at all hours since most of the time it was loudspeaker time, so there you have it. All advice is good, yet it certainly goes to show that not all advice should be headed, even if hundreds shout it out.
"Time to leave" has done just that. Packed his bags and left - not just the house but the air-space. Gone to family abroad for a while to sort out what he wants and needs, and to give her the space to decide if she's ready to recognise her major contribution to this meltdown. We doubt she will, but she should get the objective space to do so. The children keep in touch with him and yes, things were difficult for them initially, as is to be expected. They're at the grandparents most of the time since it turns out that the explosiveness of "mum" went to the children too, and perhaps the ADD is not just ADD, but compounded by watching dad get his head chewed off and his masculinity wiped out time and time and time again.
Of course, we sat her down too. Simply to find out if in his absence we could provide some type of support. She turned it down flat, saying she would hunt him down and destroy him if she can, and how dare we stop THAT process which "took her ages to work out". I just don't get some people.. truly.
I was reading through the answers to the question I posted about this and it really struck me hard as to how very much culture impacts on the advice given. Sure, there are general trends to how people will advise on certain situations, but when they are not part of the culture in which you live, it is difficult to give advice that would work. "butt out, if he's suicidal just point him in the right direction and stay clear" is not the way of the muslim family.. "You're enabling instead of helping" is also just not reflective of our reality. So, for the sake of cultural bridging I thought I'd blog an update, and hopefully shed some light for myself as well as others.
Have I ever considered this man as a man instead of a family member? Never. Not for a second. Yet that was implied in some of the replies. Why not? It makes "sense".. but then again, hubby would actually laugh at the thought and so would I. I am totally besotted with habibi to even think of thinking of him as anything but someone in trouble.
So what is "the muslim way" in a case such as this? Ideally, yes, the cousin should speak to the man - hence the loudspeaker. It's the case of an uncle and aunt emotionally adopting a hurting nephew, seeing the path he's going through and trying really hard to just keep him alive and seeing his options.
In this case, there was no option, in the end, but to leave. Perhaps with time apart they will realise things could be salvaged. Perhaps with time apart she will get psychological help. THankfully hubby is the type of man who truly is my covering, and once her threats began to stood in front of me rather literally and told the lady to get to me -through HIM. Firmly yet succintly. I have never been prouder of him. And just as he has us as "uncle and aunt" we have our "uncle and aunt" - an older, wiser couple who are like elders to us. Hubby also has an additional "uncle" he goes to for advice, as I have an "aunt". Family gatherings to hash things out are not uncommon when things have gone as far as these two have. Had we been more forceful in our intervention, we might've somehow been able to save some of the damage done to the children, but force is NOT the way of the muslim, regardless of whatever crap the media spews. Not islam as I know it and live it, that's for sure. So we sat around, eventually, one and all, and after the years of "aha" "yes" "we here you" "talk to her" "Try to reach her" we eventually laid out the options; Things have escalated to physical violence towards him, his life is breaking apart as he cannot focus on anyting right now and only bared escaped a dangerous liaison with drugs and suicide. (This finds its way into every culture)
Finally, he chose survival, chose to walk away from it all. It turns out all he wanted was the emotional support whilst trying to figure out how to leave - how to summon up the courage as well as how to leave her "in kindness" as the Quran says. And this he's done. He's seen to her financial needs and will keep doing so for the sake of the children. I'm sure he'll be back to rebuild, but right now he needs time to heal. Hubby chatted to him for ages and ages last week, when it finally happened.
I guess as much as people want to advise, and as well meaning as they are, sometimes its best not to ask for advice - especially on sites like EP, and especially when culture is very different to what is "social norm". Same goes for advice on spiritual warfare, paranormal, and polygamy. You just have to be a card toting member to understand the ways of a culture.
My parents take was always "yeah, well, one day she's gonna kill him and that'll be it." or "She'll drive him to the loonie bin, then blame you." but mom and dad aren't muslims, and habibi and his family do things a little differently, I guess, because they are. They (and I) held his hand right through to the end, and of course we did our best to just listen, and just keeping him living with some hope long enough to believe a little in himself. It's not just men who abuse, you see. I guess people battle to see that.
I'm sad for the children, but when I see that already the girls are breathing a little easier, and already they are defending their dad and telling their mom all those things she could've done (or could still do).. then I know there's hope for them.
I wish her all the best. I wish him all the best. I wish them all peace. And if that has to be apart, then I wish them new memories, happy memories, with people who will better fit them,whoever they may be. I cannot fathom having been created for anyone but my beloved habibi, and I've been through my fair share of emotional abuse in the first marriage. I'm not blind to my contribution to that breakdown, but I AM happier than ever before as a result of that breakdown, because it brought me to Islam, and then to my darling angel hubby. I want to whisper that, actually, just to not jinx things.
I love you darling. TY for your support of me, and of Z, and of the kids. Most of all, TY for your unique take on life, on relationships, on purda, and of course, on me.
I simply adore you.
It's Sunday - just got back from the most beautiful weekend trip. I had no idea that stark silver and black floral lines on a white background would go so well with red cushions and really bling chandeliers.. I'll just say I've been totally spoiled and am purring as my toes curl with absolute delight.
Visited a crystal vendor and am always discovering new things about all sorts of things. I believe healing comes only from Allah, and Shifa or "cure" is his alone to give. But certainly I do not dismiss the possibility that He, as Sovereign can choose whatever channel He wishes. Personally, I go direct to him. And OH how beautiful those crystals are - I could not resist and my collection has grown quite a bit - this time drawn to a polished bloodstone that simply took my breath away.
I'd halted my collection a while as I shifted focus back to the herb garden I've been creating. Yet, they found me again - a delightful lady friend gave me the most beautiful lapis lazuli. They say it is the stone of friendship - Whatever it is, she didn't know it WAS lapis Lazuli 'till I pointed it out to her. She just likes the stones. This one is un-cut, raw, the shimmering golden pyrites heavily wound through the stone in almost a spiral type of form- now inside the stone, now outside the stone, it's jagged edges softened almost by the glittery material.
I also discovered what my "Rock" is - it's Pyrite. It came out of the ground at a friend's house who was breaking ground to build a deck. She ripped out a huge old tree, and wound in it's roots was this golden brown, mica-like, shimmery rock. I tried to lift it and found that it weighed too much. It's only about 40cm by 60cm but weighs a LOT - about 60Kgs. I wish I had a pic to post up of it.. not sure how to post those into here. THankfully during the burglary my christals were on display rather haphazardly in a little corner display cabinet, amid japanese crockery. I guess the burglars weren't interested in them, so my green moss agate pendant (VERY large, off a chain I made myself) has escaped unscathed.
So here I am, again surrounded by pretty rocks and fragrant herbs, thanking my Allah for time spent in harmony and peace and love, and and the ability to come home to (and with) something pretty to add to the collection.
It's thursday evening here. Outside, the rain is tumbling from the sky after a long, hot, african day. There's something about African skies in the summertime that can only be appreciated when you're taking in as a child of Africa, with all its silly politics and super people, it's perfect smiles blending with its aching hearts.
It isn't always easy being a white muslim in black africa, where most muslims are classified as Indian, especially when Islam is the only truly colourless race I have discovered. The difficulties come from people's preconceived ideas of Islam, gathered from the media, as well as their own ideas of what I SHOULD or shouldn't look like as a muslim.
I have found that the best way to not attract attention to myself is to wear phurda - the covering of the face except the eyes. Yet somehow, it does the opposite at times. I'm a little different sometimes, because I like colour and see no reason why a soft turquoise hijab cannot be worn instead of the usal black. Not bright reds, of course -those I save for special moments behind closed doors, but the blues, the soft pinks, the crisp whites in flowing chifons and tafetas. I cover, and yet somehow I find that the colour of my skin in a world that pens white and black as either Christian, muslim or otherwise,( as though the whiter your skin the more enlightened you're supposed to be - what absolute RUBBISH!) makes people stop and look a 2nd time. I don't think it has anything to do with being particularly beautiful, I think I'm just a little Odd for most people.
I guess, essentially, that I don't fit the picture of where I am versus what I appear to be. I happened to be browsing through my telephone the other day at work, then took a phonecall. A collegue(thankfully a lady!) happened to come into my office and noticed that there was a picture of me without my headscarf on my telephone (I was about to send it to beloved with a little note). I can't understand her surprise, and yet, I understand. "I don't understand how you can cover all that, most woman would kill to have." I don't think so. I think she only thinks that because she doesn't usually see it. She sees the covered me.
And that's the joy of hijab for the married couple - the woman and the man dress for one another, beneath the swathing cloths and lowered gazes to the world. It's beautiful.
Back to the rain.. it'a stopping now, the gurgling laughter at the window replaced by the sweet and fragrant drip-drip that raises the smell of thick, rich, red and black land. My little herb garden will be smiling by morning, I'm sure! The portulaca will be swollen with its Omega laden gift, the sage will be starting to raise its head from the shower that causes it to bend so. The brinjals will right now probably be dancing in that soft breeze under the porch light, the christmas beetles eager to chew on it untill the taste the chilly surprise awaiting them! (I just sprayed organic) lol..
Inside,there's none of this excitement. There's just me, my hijab aside on the chair, my heavy eastern beads hung on the little dresser mirror, and my toes tickled pink by the thought that it is thursday - Jummah. WHen you think that Friday is actually a holy day, if you consider it holy but once, you will feel something different about it. A gentleness. a softness.Like the tea at my side, a soothing warmth. Like the lavender beneath my pillow, a sleepy fragrance. And just maybe, you'll realise it doesn't matter where you came from, or what colour you happen to be, or what colour anyone else is. All that matters is the one who made the rain..
And so it begins - Jummah. Habibi is away as so often he is and I miss him. I wish.. oh Allah make a way and bring him home safely, Insh'Allah. Work takes us here and there, but home is in my heart, as mine is in his. Ameen.
My mood: very peaceful
I don't know what just happened and didn't get a chance to find out. Somehow something's happened that I just cannot explain..
Let me re-trace my steps.. I've been away from my EP for a very long time. When I returned I had numerous gestures and mail sent my way. I responded to all the gestures, sending giggled or winks or curtseys.
I answered a few questions and asked a whole bunch of them, to which I received replies and which I have finalised.
Today I came back here to find I've been de-friended by someone and have received an email to say that I am "sick" for giggling at a poor, homeless, defenseless girl! I did WHAT? How, when, who, where? Oh my!!... I don't understand. Either I sent someone a reply gesture during a hard patch and they didn't know I'd been away (dunno how, it's all over my EP) or else I just don't get it.. Did I post an answer that was offensive? I really don't understand. And it's rather a shock, since I felt I was beginning to strike up a friendship with the lady in question.
If ANYONE out there knows what's up, please let me know, because I'm stumped. Clearly I've offended her but tracing back my steps I don't know how. If anything, I was blogging about the lack of compassion towards people.
So silky, whatever happened, kindly let me know what offended you so, I hate to part on bad terms with anyone.
For as long as I can remeber I've been a counselor. I'm a pretty damned good one too, Alhamdolilah. Since I clearly cannot discuss actual cases I thought I'd pose some interesting questions on a few social situations that I've been trying to assist with. Perhaps I need to emphasise that this is NOT out of my own choice but because I am asked to do so.
Whilst I respect everyone's opinion I have found a few answers very surprising! I've had a bit of a chuckle, really, about some of the recommendations. Let me just state in advance that I don't counsel out of a desire to do so - it is my profession. It was my primary profession until I shifted to HR so as to do counseling only part time, since it can be extremely tiring and draining to give of oneself all along.
But here's the two little things that have made me chuckle and point to human nature - In one question, I asked about someone who is being emotionally, and psychologically abused by his wife of 16 years. Over the years this family person has saught refuge in hubby and I, calling us up many times because he is suicidal. Given my training and the fact that he is family, hubby referred it to me. Obviously if someone calls and says "I'm gonna do it. It's time. I can't face it any more." You cannot say "go have a chat with wifey and sort it out" when you've tried that a million times. To suggest that is actually to insult one's intelligence! But there you have it - I actually got replies telling me to mind my own business and let them sort it out! lol.. I can imagine THAT call;
Man" I'm gonna do it, I don't care, I can't take it anymore."
Wife: Do what you stupid, useless idiot?
Man: Don't calll me that (lets imagine he takes the advice) I'm coming home and we're gonna talk
Wife: Sure, you come on home you pathetic excuse for a man (I've heard this with my own ears), your kids should see what a sorry ass man you are so they know how NOT to turn out. Come on home! Or better yet - Go ahead and drive off the cliff, either way, who cares?
Since this has been the conversation we've heard - obvously unable to discuss fully in a Q and A - it's amazing to me that people will read a question and say _ he needs to stop asking for help and deal with it (pretty much the gist of it, but let me paraphrase - he needs to get off the phone with you and go sort out his issues with his wife).
Oh, PS - the last time he did, she nearly killed him - the abuse went physical. My question is how much can a man take before HE realises its time to quit? I never told him to quit - cousnseling is not about telling people what to do its about helping them to look at teh options and choose for themselves, but preserving life comes first.
Guess I expected a little too much from EP answers.!
The other question I had was about my health.. the same answerers decide it would be a good idea to reccommend I stop involving myself in other people's problems so as to heal myself.
I guess love and human compassio are dead. Not towards me, but towards these people I talk about because the message again is MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS> Surely then, they should not be on EP - and certainly not answering questions, but wisely taking their own advice and MINDING THEIR OWN BUSINESS! lol... lest it affect their health..
Lol... Human nature - I like the saying WHEN YOU CAN SAY NOTHING INTELLIGENT, SAY NOTHING _ I also like the other one - NEVER INTERRUPT AN IDIOT WHEN HE"S MAKING A FOOL OF HIMSELF.
*sigh.. bed time now.. had enough for the day and best I get my 9 hours sleep! lol..
THat part of the advice, I will take because its wise - eat healthy, sleep well. Thanks for those gems. The rest, ^chuckle* I'm glad I have the X at the top and don't have to actually GET COUNSELLING from these guys. SHEEESSH louise!!
Thank you so much to all of you who sent me messages and dropped me mail and comments and gestures whilst I was incommunicado. I didn't realise being away from EP was going to be so difficult! and it WAS!
Anyway, so I've moved house since the burglary (the police said they'd be back, but never bothered with prints or anything much at all despite the fact that they were IN the house when I called the police! (Of course they took their jolly time getting to the house just in case the bandits were still there)
But it's okay. It is in the past now, and I am doing just fine. I have taken numerous deep breaths, pulled myself towards myself, taken lots of cups of tea, thrown myself into new gardening and business projects and wept whatever losses I needed to do. Whatever was taken, Allah (God) saw it. When those things were given to me, God saw it too. So why feel depressed, as He gives so He takes away and sometimes does so just because we're in a comfort zone and he wants more for us than we have. However, because we're in the comfort zone, we don't look for better, and end up settling nicely into good enough.
It's rather liberating not to worry at all about wether my safe will be broken into and my jewellery taken - it's gone and I was not as yet insured, so that's it. It's written off, and it's okay. No good can come from that which is acquired with a dirty heart, so all they've done is heaped sorrow upon themselves and for that I'm sorry for them. To feel that you hate some racial group, some social group or some gender so much as to simply walk in, or to have no respect for people is truly something to be sad about, and since they cannot be sad for themselves because they are not aware of their emptiness, I shall feel sad for them and I shall ask God to grant them Hidaya (leading, guiding).
Looking back now, what angered me most was that I'd become a statistic, another number. And that, dear friends came not from a place of violation feelings alone, but out of (I'm ashamed to admit) pride. Like, How DARE this happen to me - I never did anything to them. But perhaps I did, perhaps we all do when we turn our eye away from poverty, who knows? When we turn our eye away from the screams of the victims and simply tick them off a stats sheet. As someone who was targeted (not a victim, a target) it is another experience to allow me to understand more deeply what others feel.
For my lack of communication wether by mail or EP I appologise too, but as I say, I've not had a computer nor the time or inclination to go into an internet cafe. (I'm enthused, not addicted, to EP et al... lol)
I've discovered many things, deep seated feelings of anger or hurt about this or that from the past and have been dealing with them.
So, I am grateful. For the ugliness of it, that brought to the fore other things disguised as "im okay". And I'm grateful too because I'd rather have been a target than a perpetrator, because truly they must be in a really bad place; either because they need to do what they do or because they do not care that they do what they do, and the latter is even worse. How sad for them.
I shall check out all these lovely Q &As etc tonight, Insh'Allah and bid you all a friendly, warm hello. Thank you for trying to save my virtual cat, ShabbyCat, but he's gone too. Guess it was time for a new beginning. And if you're gonna go new, guess it's best to go BRAND NEW - like my laptop *grinning* yippppeeee!!
So it's been a week that the burglary took place, and that I managed to get away with my life. Somehow though, they've taken something that I need to get back, my confidence in the moral fibre of most of mankind. My confidence in kindness. But I know that it's just a matter of time.. I can't fathom why or how individuals live with plundering, ripping up and destroying what belongs to someone else - whether physical or otherwise.
The next day, the movers arrived. However, they did so much damage (supposed professionals) that between the burglary and the breakage and the damage, I simply looked away. I couldn't look, I tried talking and explaining but 12 men with a great big lug in charge were just not listening. It's okay, I guess. amid the broken and the stolen, I'm still here, still chugging along, still carrying on.
Trouble hit on the 3rd day. Fetched my child from school and my car simply wouldn't start. It just died. The engine turned but didn't kick in, if you know what I mean. One more to add... guess my life's like a taxi sometimes - always room for ONE more.. lol.. So I called insurance (Which I didn't have on the house since it was a recent move itself) and they tried to jump start my car. Murphy was having none of that and of course the car simply did not go. Off to the towing service, who delivered it promptly to the mechanic. Mechanic being a gentleman dropped us home, and the next day poured over the car until he called me up to say that he had quite frankly given up. There seemed to be no "cure" to my car's illness. It's not a new thing, but its no "skorokoro" either. Turns out i need a new key - manufactured in Europe... which will take about a month..
So... between the loaned vehicle (Alhamdolilah), the trauma of the burglary (which I didn't think would hit me so hard) and the move (Lots of boxes and lots of broken bits)... I'm now travelling a little more than usual (to and from work WAS an hour each way), and somehow coping without any household assistance. I'm too afraid to take on a domestic worker given that the burglary was definately an inside job according to the police. The police have proved quite useless, not bothering to fingerprint at all, and not contacting me since the reported incident. It also took them 45 minutes to arrive on the scene from the time I called our emergency number - good thing I managed to get out as the burglars came for me! God alone knows what could've happened if I'd been 5 minutes earlier, or later, or gone to fetch my child first.
And of course I was forced to move since they were interrupted and did not get to finish the job of randsacking my place - which means that they would certainly be back.
Here's to new beginnings - a little heartsore, but it is what it is.. nothing to be done about that except sigh, make subr, and keep going. Just keep swimming, not so?
I DO find that I'm exceptionally tired at day's end and generally collapse onto the bed once little one's asleep - only to find myself wide awake and listening for every little noise and creek in the new place, this when I'm not stumbling over boxes trying to get to the now 1 bathroom (instead of two)..
YET - somehow, I can't fathom why - I'm grateful. It's strange. After all, I prayed for a sign as to wether we should buy the old house or not - guess I got my sign. I prayed for all ties to my past to be removed, and I guess I got that too. And maybe, just maybe, Allah's been trying to give me something better, but I've been in such a comfort zone that I wasn't looking for better, just more of the same. SUddenly, I have no "trappings" to worry about when I leave home - I lock up and I go - after all, they took all the valuables, didn't they? And I HAVE to let go of memories that actually do more harm than good because there are no reminders of those memories in a cupboard - no past engagement rings, or whatever that may be. Perhaps in his way He is showing me that it's okay to just be you IN the world, and just let the world carry on. Trouble with that is that the sense of purpose seems to have imploded in me and I cannot find it. Right now I'm taking one day at a time, swinging from gratitude to this really deep sadness that there are people out there who do this type of thing AND SO MUCH WORSE!! And its the so much worse that is starting to scare me - how do people survive things like rape and the murder of a loved one - truly they must be very strong to be permitted trials like this.
I think I'll turn out a kinder individual after this is processed - I just don't want to harbour bitterness at all.. if anything, I'd like a clean heart with no more baggage than I can possible handle - which right now isn't much at all to be perfectly frank.
Ah well,, I'm rambling, I know.. but this is what blogs are for... to vent, to think, to explore thoughts and vulnerabilities anonymously. And as the old song goes "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to."
Once the boxes are unpacked (goodness how long with that take!!) I intend to take a trip to the sea to visit with hubby - he's based there and that is the one little piece of this puzzle that is the hardest to deal with. Yet again... just keep swimming...
I have been violated. I came home to find thieves randsacking my home, having stolen every last piece of jewelry and with them so many memories.. gone, wiped out along with all my perfumes, some scarves and pretty much whatever was valuable. Why open my safe replace the boxes (empty) lock it and hide the keys? Why turn my bed upside down and throw my belongings about? Why remove my doors in broad daylight them break them? WHat was there in it for you?
I cannot hate you, nor will I try. I cannot wish to see you or find you behind bars. Instead, I pray my Lord, the God of all creation who SAW you do this, who knew you would've raped and killed me - I pray that HE see to you And HE WILL. As you wear my rings, those of my past and all those of my recent present, I pray HE sees.. I pray HE smells the perfumes that touched my joy and I pray that HE allow them to visit HIS revenge for ME upon you. I have faught tooth and nail for what little I have.. I work so hard and try so hard to be a good servant of God. His will be Done.. whatever it may be.. and may HE vindicate me for these tears, this heartache, this devastation as I clear up shattered glass and sheets you've soiled.
I'm moving out - you've driven me from my home. Yet my home is in my heart - it is my soul where my Lord resides, and THAT, you cannot take. i came home yesterday to all of this- this nothing.. but I have my life, my child, my safety, alhamdolilah. I am another statistic, but I am at peace.. because in all things, God is great, and in all thngs HE has protected me. He has protected me from a greater evil. ALhamdolilah. As I soak my bed with tears of pain and loss not for the monetary value but for the invasion and rape of my peace.. I know that YOU, my Allah restore my peace. Draw near to me, Lord, for I lean on YOU. I trust in YOU. And all is well..
To my friends on EP - not sure how soon I can access this since I can't access EP from my office. My computer etc is also gone - I'm at a friend's because I cannot face what I used to think was my little sanctuary. Nothing is ours - everything is YOURS Allah - that which we see, which we have and which was taken all is in your hands. Including the thieves..
Shew! I'm exhausted. And not just physically tired (it's been a series of long days!) but just generally tired. maybe its the end of the year thing or whatever but I find myself feeling truly exhausted. If I try to have an early night, I end up waking tired. hmmm.. possibly some defficiency in my diet since I've run out of my Omega Oils and that always changes things for me.
It just feels like I used to be able to accomplish so much more, and still have energy left to burn. I guess having suffered from burn-out the first time at age 22 does kinda set the stage for a reduced ability to just get things done, but I find that after my job (first 5 hours straight) I come home to shift number 2, carting and fetching from school to various activities, only to return home and find its waiting to be cleaned, the clothes need washing and the food needs getting cooked. It's pretty much all I can do not to cry sometimes when bathtime rolls around and little one's to bed, only to find that shift number - I loose track- begins and the ironing begins, or (at this juncture) the little home business. Somewhere in the daze of daylight there are neighbour's children coming to visit, gardening that needs doing (which I simply adore) or at the very least the watering. It's a wonder I manage to be on EP so much although lately I haven't been - a kind soul kept an eye out on my E-Pet and fed him, thank-you dear!!
Truly, I'm just tired. Work has been stressful beyond and with all the various cut-backs I've been called in to assist in another department. It's great to get the recognition, but I'm finding it hard to keep head above water. Can I say no? Yes. I can. And I do, thankfully, although at some point I'll have to tackle the bull by the horns and get all those documents checked (its a careful operation that is usually assigned in strictest confidence so yeah, I'm flattered but SHEW!! 2000 plus documents each at least 10 pages long in a strong room is not my idea of fun).
Then of course, it is Ramadan, which means all of this is done on a dry fast. Strangely enough I can only be grateful for that. Truly, I thought it would make it harder, but it hasn't. Somehow, I'm given the strength I need to rise at 4am and prepare breakfast, then eat, then pray, then rest a few minutes before starting the whole thing again. I am grateful that at this holy time I am surprisingly energetic (usually) except I've "fallen out" (auntie's come to visit, the red brigade has landed, sue's come to stay, whatever you want to call the monthly occurance). So I am exhausted.
I find some relief in reading, but my eyes just won't do much more. I find great relief in reading other people's stories and questions on EP - it takes my mind off things I have to do.
I sometimes feel like a supermum/superwife/superemployee/MrsEmpty combination and to be honest, I'm having a few pulpitations of late.
deep breath.. I am GRATEFUL . Grateful I have a home to come to, a garden to water, water that runs, hot water to bath in, food to cook, money to buy take aways when need be, a child that is the light of my eyes, 3 stepkids that hopefully will grow to love me but if they don't I'll probably love them anyway, a husband that has shown me what it feels like to truly BE loved, the knowledge with which to start something "on the side", a job with a reputable company, and a virtual pet that doesn't need a poop scoop!
I'm grateful above all for a God that loves me enough to help me, lead me, teach me, guide me, provide and shower me with good things and the ability to pray so that in His mercy he may be gentle on me. And I'm grateful for life. I want to make it one worth living, a life well lived. I want to draw the sap out of it and have it be said "she made a difference in my life" by one or other soul, not out of pride but out of humility's desire to love my fellow man. I really think that's all one can do - be the best co-human one can be.
Night night. I'm going to rest. I'm beyond the "funny" tired and just feel weepy and tired and crampy and yes, I YEARN for rest. The ironing will wait. It just has to.
love to all. Peace.
I know there's probably some information on this already, but I've run a search and come up with questionable stuff! I think I'll post a question on it. In the meantime, if anyone knows how to tell the difference between a new gesture received or an old one, please let me know. They all look the same to me! lol..
I plucked up the courage to start enquiries on a new small business today! Yay for me!! .. International trade type of business. It's scary but I think its time to stretch the boundaries. To fail to try is the only failure, right? (she says, grimmacing..)..
Here's to something, I HOPE!
I remember being 10 and having my grandfather visit from overseas for the first time ever. He wore a grey jersey, brown pants with braces (or suspenders, I never get the right one! - One is for pants and the other for stockings.. he wore the one for pants - duh!)
I remember sitting on his lap. He was bald, except for the few stray hairs around the back of his head below his ears. I somehow knew his time was going to come. I knew that this may be the last time I ever saw him (he passed on 4 days later) and I said goodbye to him. He told me he didn't think he'd see me again, and I said I knew, that he was going to die. He wasn't ill or anything. It was just time. And no-one but he and I could see it.
Its a strange feeling knowing that someone is about to pass on. I felt it when my friend passed on of cancer. Each one's death had a different feeling, but it was all goodbye, and each time, I knew. Just in time to make a memory. It taught me the importance of harnessing one moment so tightly that it is never lost. If I think of my grandfather now, I am back there, feeling the cool touch of the leather seat, the rough texture of the old jersey, the sparkly grey buttons, one of which was chipped. I remember the shape of his head. I traced it with my hand, then sniffed my hand. It had an oily kind of smell, tinged with a combination of old spice and lavender water. He had patched of darker skin, like overgrown beauty spots on his head, and bumps here and there. I cuddled into his arms and breathed it in- that one memory. I carry it with me today, like a gift he gave me.
I remember my friend, also. The last time I saw her, the morphine had to be injected into her because they couldn't find a vein for a drip anymore. She was pale, white, and bone thin. She lay on her bed and asked me for another dose of morphine, then told me she wouldn't ask me to take the pain away, although she had asked someone. She taught me alot about euthenasia the day I refused, and she understood. I remember the smell of the room, what she wore, that thin white nightie with the tiny roses. She was only 18. I was barely 16. The next memory I have of her was kissing her forehead as she lay in her coffin, and the cold, stony touch of her hand. and the smell of formaldehyde or something like that. I remember how the make-up had started to melt a little in the heat, and the bue greyness of her skin emerged under my kiss.
I remember good things too - like my mother's hug. the sound of her voice as she soothed my forehead during a migraine attack that had me bedded for 2 weeks at the age of 13. I remember my first kiss.. that sloppy, unsure, trying-to-be-good-at-it feeling of focussing on tongues and lips instead of just enjoying it. It's not a memory I treasure, lemme tell you!! But I remember his skin smelt strange, acidic almost. lol..
I remember my baby's infant days - the first days as he lay in the incubator, me half-drugged from painkillers (having had an allergic reaction to the epidural) and this tiny, tiny little hand's touch, warm against my breast as his face slept on my chest.
I remember the day I married my habibi - I remember the touch of his hand, the scent of his beard, the hundreds of tender moments all rolled into one. I remember standing in front of him and looking into his eyes as he looked at me and gently placed the palm of his hand on my cheek. I can't recall how long we stood like that, eyes awash with tears. But I remember the moment and it is still with me.
I remember my last afternoon with my grandmother, my son's first word (No!) lol.. and how he peed onto grandma's face as if to add impact to his words! How we laughed!.. I remember the sound of his cry so unique and different from all the others, and how he'd calm when he felt me near even though he was too premature to see me.. I remember the smell of the antiseptic fluid used to wash at ICU.
I remember ICU.
I remember holidays, and i think it is because I hold onto memories so completley that I have trouble letting go of things, or of people. I remember the look of hatred on my ex-husband's face when he realised he'd lost me. I remember then that I remembered the day I met him down the aisle, and I remember now, the pain of how those two memories clashed in me like rocks that crumble into one another but just as they crunch and hurt, so they are hard and crush again. I remember the many nights I lay awake thinking I would prefer to be dead, feeling alone, abused, hurt, and angry. I try to let those go..
Memories are the past in the now. They are the sum of our yesterdays in one moment, where we are transported back to that point in time. I have memories that go back to my days in the cot, as a baby. Sometimes I think I remember being born.
Sometimes, the memories are too much. Too strong, to weak, too far gone, while being too present. But memories are good, all of them. They remind me why I'm here, and they bring me hope for a better tomorrow. And tomorrow, when I awake, I'll say again what I always say, which has become a tradition with beloved and I - "Let's make a memory."
Good night all. Wishing you full, peaceful memories.
Alas, I have neglected my pets. Being ramadan, I've been fasting and so have not popped in here lately, but the poor pets are neglected, I'm afraid. I know they're only virtual, and I know there's nothing much else i can do but pet them, feed them or play with them (not being a member and all!) So I dunno if this'll work, but maybe someone else could pop by and give Shabcat and George (my monkey) some attention. They're feeling a little down.. shame..
My mood: a bit distressed
I felt the need and the urge to write this for a long tine. The way I blog is strange, I suppose, because my connection is not great, so I kinda trust in a divine Editing system - if there's a crash, its trash. I don't question it, don't save my thoughts, don't really do anything much but accept its the way its meant to be. But this particular thought has been living in my for a long time, so I'm hoping its the right time. Insh'Allah..
There is so much in the media today that aims to cause division. But sensationalism is not the sin solely of the journalist (appologies to those who do not ride the gravy train of quick fame at any cost) It seems to be a human thing. Some cultures say "he who tells a story adds a bullet." Quite profound, read it again. A bullet can be a bullet, or it can be another Point in the story. An addition. I don't think humans are morbid.. i think we're really just children that never outgrew their curiosity. I see my little one's eyes coming home and saying "Mommy, you should see what so and so did - or so and so said." I think that Allah (God in any faith - the word for ONE God in aravic is Allah) truly meant us to have "faith like children" and I can see what He meant... we are curious, we were meant to be so that we can seek. We are blabbermouths (even those of us who try not to be) and we were meant to be so we could spread the curiosity about him. And we remember things. We were supposed to so that we'd learn the lesson. I said he created us LIKE children. In Islam we do not believe we are CHILDREN but rather Creation and Creator (hence the sovereignty).
But I digress, this was not meant to be a blog about fiath, essentially, but rather about human nature, culture and religion. I used to know someone who called herself christian yet hated "the jews". I've known jews who hate muslims (Golly.. there's a lot of those!) and I know muslims who reciprocate the hatred ( probably as many). I also know Christians who, like I was, are so afraid of "differing" belief that they will not dare to seek for God anywhere but in their faith lest they "fall into condemnation." God never said seek between X and Y. He said seek. He never said love your neighbour unless he's muslim, he said LOVE. He never told people that there would be no tests or trials, he said MAKE PEACE. Yet I fail to understand why there is so much hatred, why so much of it is being harboured in the hearts of people who've never met a mulsim, a real muslim, or never met a jew (a real jew) or never met an Israelite (a real Israelite).
A Christian will not like another Christian but will happily try to get to know another, he doesn't write off all christians. But that same christian will say a muslim is going to hell and never dare speak lest the condemnation strikes.
A muslim (Astaghfirullah - Allah forgive us) will not like another muslim, and stay away yet he will try to reach out to another muslim. But the same muslim may not seek to share his faith with a christian.
A Jew will hate a jew and really say some nasty things, but will easily try to accept another. yet, that same jew (sorry if you don't like the word, my jewish friend doesn't object so get over your chip and move on) yet that same jew will totally despite a muslim and not dare to speak to them.
I'm generalising on purpose, to make a point. We muslims, the christians, the jewish people, we are all people of the book. We are all people who have some monotheistic foundational belief. I see what goes on in the world as does everyone else. I see the killing and the hatred. I find it totally bizarre. All of it, from whatever camp it comes, is totally out of line. Like kids on a playground forming cliques! If you bomb my house and take my field, yeah, I'm gonna be really upset and you're probably going of my Eid greetings list, but I'm not going to immediately fear or despise you just because the media says you're a sick bastard. YOU may not be. I MAY not be. Why hate me just because I am a muslim? Do you not care that I have a heart? Do you not care as a jew or muslim that the Christian seeks God? Do you not care as a Christian that the bible says not to hate a jewish person because they were the first.
This opens a debate - JEwish people refers to the tribe of Judah. I'm refering to "Jews" in the broad sense - the people who follow the Thorah, to be precise.
Surely intelligent, God fearing people will try to build bridges, not break down the chain of prayer. We should all be praying that God grant us and the man next door HIDAYA (guidance) regardless of their faith. But just like in the times of Essa (Jesus) peace be upon him, we stiop praying when it crosses the religious line and ask ourselves why we should throw the "food" to the "dogs".
I wish everyone would do themselves a favour between these 3 faiths. I wish everyone of us in these 3 faiths would sit themselves down, look at one another as inheritors of a monotheistic faith, and instead of doing SOMETHING - DO NOTHING. Do not hate. just don't. everything is a choice including hatred. We may be children that never grew up, but we can grow beyond the teenage gossip and mud slinging and setting each other up. It doesn't take a miracle! All it takes is one willing person to start a movement. It takes ONE person, choosing to believe in God, to choose peace. To choose to stop paying so much attention to "their side of the story" and start listening to the "Other side". I promise the tryth WILL COME OUT. The truth always does. And the truth WILL SET you free... from hatred. Because whatever you do, however you smother it, however you supress it, however much you hate, the truth IS WHAT IT IS. It cannot be changed. You can choose to believe the sky is pink. You can choose to insist, you can choose to paint every picture with a pink sky. Truth is, sometimes its blew, sometimes its greyish, and our perception is the only thing we can control. NOT the truth.
So here's MY truth - This is what I believe (and I have that right). Islam is being set up as the bad guy among Israel. Israel is being set up as the bad guy among muslims. Muslims are being set up as the bad guy pretty much everywhere. If "TO those whom more is given, more is expected " and if "more persecution comes to those who live more in the Truth" the YOU do the math. And whichever side of the breadstick you're sitting on, stop the hatred. The politicians, the Big Brother, the Whoever can do nothing about moving the masses if the masses chose PEACE and LOVE. Remember Ghandi? Living evidence he was. PeACE is a greater weapon. DARING to reach out is the greater instrument of mass destruction - it destroys barriers between people. I'm not saying make the "oposite" (if you see anyone other than your faith as an opposite) your bosom buddy. I'm saying DON'T turn into your enemy someone who isn't. Its also one of the ten cimmandments, not to make up lies about people.
Am I into conspiracy theories? Well, you know, the best way to hide something is out in the open, I believe. Throughout time, it is always the group more able to bring peace in a specific area at a specific time that are targeted by those wanting only power. It's a few only. So few compared to all of heaven. I'm not asking you to do anything, not asking you to make friends even, just asking you, wherever you fit into these three, to DO nothing. If you wear a "what would Jesus do" bracelet - well, he would not judge and hate on the basis of what others told him - do you see how wierd that sounds? Did the penny drop? If you are a muslim and you carry your Quran, do you not read "DO NOT BE THE AGRESSOR? MAKE PEACE, NOT WAR?" if you are of the book of the Thorah, do you not read "thou shalt not kill? and do you not hear that God can use ANYONE to deliver a message, and that even a burning BUSH can mean LIFE, not DEATH?
Micheal jackson was a strange little man indeed. But one thing he said... start with the man in the mirror. - I don't think he was talking about the rearview mirror!
For those who may not be christian, or muslim, or jewish.. I have only one request .. do the same. Whoever you are. A man is judged by his intention. You cannot know his intention unless you know the man, and you cannot know the man unless you understand what makes him tick. when you KNOW the man you will BE the man - the one who walks away from the fight, and towards enlightenment. And when any of us start to seek, we SHALL find.
Even Buddha said "DO not speak - Unless it improves on silence."
(No offence was meant by the title.. I thought it was an interesting play on words, like Muslim Cloth)
Previous PostsLearning daily, posted January 9th, 2013
Been away a while, posted January 5th, 2013
Memories part 3, posted January 15th, 2010, 1 comment
Memories part 2, posted January 15th, 2010, 1 comment
Memories, posted January 15th, 2010, 4 comments
Through the eyes of a child, posted December 15th, 2009
How do I love thee?, posted December 13th, 2009, 2 comments
When's it time to leave - update, posted December 13th, 2009
Sunday rest, posted December 13th, 2009
Thursday smiles, posted December 10th, 2009
I have no idea what happened., posted November 28th, 2009
Stay out, posted November 26th, 2009
Wysteria's back, posted November 26th, 2009
Personal Update, posted October 20th, 2009, 1 comment
Violated, posted October 8th, 2009
life is tyring at times, posted September 9th, 2009
gestures, posted September 2nd, 2009
making a memory, posted August 31st, 2009
save a kitty, posted August 31st, 2009
Jew Jitzu, posted August 8th, 2009, 1 comment
lost it all, posted August 6th, 2009, 2 comments
So many deaths.., posted August 1st, 2009, 4 comments
Grateful, posted July 30th, 2009
He took his life., posted July 27th, 2009
Male Sexual fantasies, posted July 23rd, 2009
Feeling loved, posted July 20th, 2009, 1 comment
It got me again!, posted July 7th, 2009
blogthings Got me!, posted July 7th, 2009, 2 comments
I WANNA BE, posted July 6th, 2009, 1 comment
Mind's i..., posted April 4th, 2009
Mind's i..., posted April 4th, 2009
Ecstacy, posted April 4th, 2009
delicious, posted April 4th, 2009
Its Benign, posted October 18th, 2008
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