For tomorrow is just another day

"Dr. Kübler-Ross refined her model to include seven stages of loss. The 7 stages of grief model is a more in-depth analysis of the components of the grief process. These seven stages include shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing, and acceptance"

Shock is the time when she held it in her hands and shook as she confronted him. Shock is her response in telling him to leave. Shock is the despair at the sudden quiet after he left. Shock made her pick up the phone and call him. She needed to understand. She needed to let it set that this was real. Not some poorly designed prank. It was real. It was real. As real as the child she held in her arms that night. Alone. Shock kept her up that night. Shock drove her to her listless phonebook. Shock made her let him back in.
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Shock is the realization that it had come undone. She knew. It was out. But she didn't know all of it. He didn't know how much she knew. He begged her to end what angered her. Shock muted his voice. Shock lifted his hands to pack his belongings. Shock brought him out of the house. Shock made him seek companionship. Shock made him stay close. Where else would he go? What did he want? Who did he want? Shock kept that answer at bay from him. Shock made his responses later that night to her curt, and unfeeling. Shock pushed him to sleep and into deep slumber.





Denial is the time they pretended to work things through. Denial brought them to celebrate their time together with their child. Denial was holding hands and sitting in that hall whilst he (halfway) confessed his sins. Denial rendered her mute. Denial made her ask more questions. She knew the answers would give her clarity. And clarity she needed greatly so her decisions were not to be in haste. Clarity she longed for. Clarity would lead her to acceptance. That much she knew. So she pushed through. Question after question she posed, digesting all of it one by one. Often she stopped, seeking clarity. Often she prayed, seeking wisdom and patience whilst she gained clarity. Clarity will bring her to acceptance. That much, she knew.
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Denial is him saying he had confessed and that he deserved her forgiveness. He had, after all, ended all of it. No more, he had said. Denial. No more, he said. Again, he denies. But you cannot close what has not been opened, can you? You can't bury what is still hidden. Yes, you can, he says. Says denial. Denial telling her she had misunderstood all this while. It was nothing. It was meaningless. It was done. Denial made him ask why she had chosen him. Denial allowed him to let her plan out their future. Denial told him it was ok. Denial told him that what is not known will not hurt and will ultimately be forgotten. Denial made him snap at her for bringing up his indiscretion. Denial assured her that he has confessed all. Denial said they were going to work things out. Denial said there was hope for a future together. Denial said "I love you".





Anger was her yelling. Anger was her bringing up years of unhappiness. Anger was screaming foul words, hurling herself to the floor and wailing to the skies. Anger was her telling him off. Thinking of the whole ordeal made her feel anger. Pain. Anger caused pain. And all she felt was either anger or numbness. Anger was silence. Anger was telling him he wasn't doing enough. Anger was the hitting and screaming. When the pain inside was so overwhelming that all she could do was scream. So she did. With all her might.
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Anger was him sitting in silence. Anger was him holding in what he wanted to say, but didn't. Anger was him telling her that he was willing to leave. Anger was him telling her there was no path for them. Anger was him saying that life with her was no longer possible. Anger was shaking and shivering and stuttering out words he later regretted.


Bargaining was them sitting together writing notes and diagrams and lists. Bargaining was them considering what days of future past could possibly hold. They held hands. The made love. They talked about happy days ahead, and also of lonely ones. They talked about supporting one another, they laughed together, ate together, slept together. Bargaining was the whole list of "what if"s and "maybe"s. It was planning for the multiverse of variances unknown. It was searching hither and tither for help. It was barreling high and low finding answers. They both knew the outcome. But they were afraid to say it out loud. It was imminent. It was the only way. They both knew. Maybe it's a little bit of leftover denial peeking in. But they stood united. Thinking they would stay united. But in their hearts, as the park be their witness, they knew.



Depression was her seeing all the horrible deeds in her every step. There wasn't a pot or pan she couldn't connect to the pain. There wasn't a grain of sand that tickled her toes that didn't bring her back to that fated evening when her world collapsed. There wasn't a whiff of his scent that didn't take her to the memories of his better days without her. 
But for him, it was much earlier. He had abandoned her long ago. He had sought out new adventures and conquered new lands long ago. He had tried to call for help, but the help he sought only sunk him out further.


So now, what's left?
testing, and acceptance.

When home is gone (2)

That stairway? It only goes one way. You can choose to go down, but God knows what’s waiting in the darkness. Maybe staying on this rickety platform will be fine. You have no supplies, but maybe the energy from the universe will suffice. Who are you kidding? No one becomes a hero by waiting on a rickety platform. That’s the damsel in distress. Is that what you are?

Write your own story. Stand up, look around. You are not forsaken. Look down, close your eyes. Can you hear anything? Can you smell anything? Pish posh! You sit back down and helplessly make yourself comfortable on the rickety platform again.

Just one more day, you say as you close your eyes. Just one more day.

Today, or tomorrow.

Tomorrow I'll wake up, get myself ready. Shower, prep, get dressed. Look at myself in the mirror.
"Today is the day" I'll say to myself. Take in a deep breath. This is it. Look at myself one more time.
Titles.
What are they, anyway? Adjectives that describe us, but not necessarily define us.
Funny
Happy
Grumpy
Angry
Depressed
Lonely
Teacher
Mother
Wife.

So what if I am no longer one of those. My worth is not defined by those titles, but rather of what my hands will answer of my deeds when the angels come calling.

So I mentally hang up that coat, title splashed across the bosom. Take another deep breath. The Lord is with me. The Lord will protect me. He has and will always provide sustenance for my family. I walk over to the bookshelf and reach over for the blue file. Tuck it into the bag, kiss my baby goodbye.
Open the door, no one stirs.
Just like that late afternoon.
No one stirs.

I close the door.
Sigh.

Walk back to the coat and put it on again.
I look at my reflection with the title splashed against my bosom.

I guess, today is not the day, after all.

When home is gone (1)

There’s a long, dark winding

Stairway with no banister

And it spirals down

Never hits the ground

And your soul feels trapped

In a crusted canister

The lighted path full of thorns and broken glass

Let’s face it: getting your hair straightened hurts. The ironing and pulling hurts. But you do it. Because you believe the reward for it is silky straight hair for the next year or so.

So if you believe that

(1)    Life on earth is short and temporary

(2)    The pain/rewards we receive in this earth life is nothing compared to the hereafter

Then you will see that the pain is worth it. If it brings you closer to eternal bliss (or at least tranquility) then let the pain pour on.

I am not afraid.

For I have faith in His love and grace.

If that day should come

To dearest close family and friends,
We have something we would like to share.
First off, it feels out of place to be sharing such news, but it is a consequence of a choice we have made. So, we want to share the truth so that we will not be victims of slander.

We have made the decision to separate, and are no longer husband and wife. We are, and always will be, devoted to our role as co-parents to our dear son.

We have gone through a magical journey together, which has now changed its form. Our beautiful adventure will be on different paths. Please pray that our lives in the days forward will be blessed with His grace and mercy. We ask for your understanding and support in this time, and provide us the space to heal and subsequently thrive. Due to the nature of this process, we may choose to be unreachable and ask for your understanding and respect. We thank you all in advance for respecting our family's privacy in this time.
Sending lots of love to everyone.

Mom's coming for you

Forgive them, for they know not.

Teach them, love them, and be close to them.

Show the best example that you can.

Let them see the beauty in the guided way of life.

Let them see it through you.

And if He has blinded their eyes, then pray for them

Pray for His mercy towards them.

Pray for His mercy in your failure to guide them.

You are strong. You are the chosen one.

Living a life looking for that one soul

Here – the Lord has gifted you with many.

Will you turn your cheek when He has gifted you

With the greatest of trials and tribulations

With a fight you know will give you that chance of heaven.

Forgive them, for they are lost.

Give them maps, directions, markings on the earth.

But do not allow yourself to give up.

Do you not see this great gift being thrust upon you?

Do you not see that without this pain,

The change would not have started.

The Lord loves you, therefore find it in you to love them.

All of them.

When you feel weak, pray to Him.

For He has the power to change their hearts.

Believe in His grace.

Believe in His wisdom.

Believe that He will not test you beyond what is capable of you.

He wants you to return.

Return.

Come back to the lighted path full of thorns and rubble.

See the beauty in each painful step.

He wants you in His garden.

Perhaps you’ll see those little feet running up to you.

Perhaps.

In the name of the Lord, most beneficent, most merciful.

Let the first step begin.

Shine the light

Living a life looking for your crusade. That one battle that brings you to Heaven. You imagine swords clashing, blood spewing, screams and cries of pain off in the distance. What you don’t imagine is sipping that glass of OJ and fighting inner demons you never thought existed. Or maybe you did, you just never bothered fighting them.

That never was

The silence is deafening
Not a single word left
Each one
You've taken and hawked
For the value of nothing
For the wanting of nothing
For it never was

Harvested as you please
Left for dead when I don't appease
And there, tragically I stand
Waiting in the cold winds

For the price of being nothing
For the time of being with no one
For the moments of being unwanted
Never missed
Never yearned for
Always

Demolish the strength of my core
Shattered, crushed, broken, and torn
I thank you for this lesson
Of a non existent love
That never was

So listen to my cries
Pure of lies
That all you are
Is what never was
That never was

There will be nothing
To resurrect your existence
For the love that never was
Flies away no matter my endeavor

So I will not plead you to stay
Nor will I beg for a second thought
Nor will I force a new promise

No longer shall I offer my body
For my heart is rotten
But I am still standing
Unwavering
And for you I shall not bleed

Memories of Chablahah

Remember this day.

12-11-19

Remember this date.

The darkened room you entered, the dishes you washed.

The milk you stored.

The vibrations in the background.

The hurried steps you made across the hall.

The rice you washed and cooked.

The rice container was almost empty. Remember that.

Your hurried glances to make sure your chores weren’t a disturbance.

Remember the joy you felt at being able to do these trivial, menial chores.

You looked around for what else you could do.

Remember this day.

Remember this date.

For whenever you feel tired and useless, remember this date.

Whenever you feel like giving up, remember this day.

It was late evening.

Remember the bowls of rice that were about to be taken to the dining table.

Remember the pot of hot soup on the stove.

Remember the disarray of clothes on the floor.

Remember the wordless moments.

The silence.

Remember it.

This is important.

She told you to be strong. You must be strong.

And to be strong, you must remember.

Of principles and disciples

She asked: Do I have to forgive him?

Well, the answer is no, you do not. At least, people can tell you to do so, but whether or not you do will always be up to you. It is a mind/heart matter. You can keep knocking on a thousand doors, and each time you will hear “Forgiveness is the righteous path”. Yes, you can keep knocking doors hoping you’ll find that one that says “Leave. Walk out with your head held high”

She whispers: ..I want to. I really really  want to. I wish I could. *her head hangs low*

But what?

Forgiveness is the easier path. You bury the mistakes, never mention it again and hope for the best. Your life continues on the same path that you were on. Nothing really changes, except how you feel.

She purses her lips, and mutters: Does it really matter then, how I feel?

Of course it does.

But to whom?

When we talk of punishments, of suffering, of pain, of crime, being forgiven comforts the perpetrator. They say it should bring closure and calm to the victim. Does it? It should, shouldn’t it? Living a life with a grudge hangs on and weighs you down. It does nothing to the perpetrator.

It does nothing.

Unless, you have a plan. An action plan. A plan that you are willing to follow through.

And that, is the hard part.

A lot of work, surely.

So the question is, do you put in effort towards forgiveness and acceptance, or do you put in effort towards leaving.

It’s in your hands. Choose wisely.

Set your own standards

Do you really believe that you should be married by XX years old, or did someone tell you that? 

Does a lavish wedding form part of your dream, or are you trying to make someone else happy on your big day?

When we set our own standards of living, it means that we take the time to assess our values, our beliefs, our foundations. It also means stepping back and asking “where did I learn this? Does it make sense to me?”

Not everyone wants to be a doctor with four children living in the outskirts of New York. But if that’s you, then work hard towards it.

This is not about being the feel-free-be-free-momma-gonna-pay-for-me.

Being a responsible adult means having developed a sense of what is right and what is wrong. This requires ownership. That means that as an adult, you should have your standards, which may or may not have been shaped by your parent(s). If you are still referring to them for permission to do things in your life for your life, then my dear the bird has not left the nest.

Now don’t quote me wrong: by all means if you believe including your parents in your life is an important value that you hold dearly, then keep them in the loop. What is not responsible is to leave the burden of judgement on your parents’ lap. Buy a house? Ask mummy. Pay for the car? Tell daddy. Dude, you’re an adult. Make a decision. Listen to feedback from knowledgeable persons and reassess your decision.

Setting your own standards does not mean defying your culture or family. What it means is that you are intelligent and mature enough to understand the standards you were raised in, and finding core values that you would like to maintain, and tweek practices that may be time-appropriate. For example: you might have been raised to get water from the well. Now that you live in the city, you no longer get water from the well, but you understand it is important to stay hydrated and keep yourself clean. Are you defying the people who raised you? Are you disrespecting them? No, you understand that there are different ways of getting the same thing done. You still get it done. This is so very important, and often forgotten. You still get it done.

Another example: You were raised with home cooked meals. You, the career-person, struggle to keep your fridge stocked with fresh unwilted produce so you opt for a food delivery service. For as long as you are not sending the bill to your mother (read: paying for it yourself), you are keeping yourself fed, and paying for your way of life. You set that to be an acceptable standard. If you can afford it, by all means, carry on. Don’t let society tell you that you are less of a person just because you don’t cook. And this is really important: Don’t marry a person who makes you feel like less of a person for not cooking. You bring value to the table, that is always important. But what those values are, you determine that.

Being alone is pathetic and lonely. << That is someone else’s definition and interpretation. If you agree with it then so be it, but understand and respect that there are other people who value and enjoy their time alone. Some even thrive in their alone time.

Once you work on determining what your standards are, why you have them, how you will be working towards your ideals, then you will find that you are too busy to judge others’ choices. And because you did such soul searching, you would have walked through the possibilities and that would open your eyes to how other people have made their choices in life. Respect that. They may not match your choices, but you should be able to respect that they have made such choices. The irritating part would be seeing those less enlightened still walking the followers path, and doing things by old standards. They are easy to spot. Leave them be. You set your standards. Perhaps their standards are merely to follow. Leave them be.

Thank you

Thank you for doing the dishes

And the laundry too

Thank you for making dinner

For me and for you

Thank you for holding my hand

Thank you for being there for him

Thank you for all the diaper changes

And late night cuddles

Thank you for the half glasses of water

In the middle of the night

Thank you for the rice in the bowl

Thank you for the clean floor

Thank you for the missing cucumber

That we can’t find anymore

Thank you for always driving

Thank you for lending your ear

Thank you for carrying what’s heavy

Thank you for opening the doors

Thank you for letting me stay

And thank you for letting me go.

New house on the prairie

They arrive, with the movers shortly in tow. The house is empty. Lived-in previously, but empty..of shelves, wardrobes, even the sink isn't there. She looks dismayingly in the distance. Helpless.
"If I unload that box, I can put it in the kitchen. Wait...the kitchen needs to be cleaned before anything can be placed there." -dead end-
"I'll put everything in one room, clean the rest and then only move them to the right places" -double work-

Where do they even start?

May the Lord show you His strength.

I want to put a word to it. And I want you to know I’ve put a word to it:

Despicable.

What you’ve done, what you are, what you represent.

Despicable.

Whatever place you had in my life is gone. I have no desire to please you, to be part of your life, for you to be part of my life. With every particle of my being I despise you.

Whilst I know I hold no special place in your life, I still want you to know that I have a word for you:

Despicable.

So I will no longer spare kind words for you, of you, to you.

Because what you represent is what I consider unforgivable.

If I can avoid sharing space with you, I definitely will. If I can avoid thinking of you, I will. If I can avoid hearing of you, I will.

But some things are beyond my control. Some things are not within my compromise.

I hold my head high and stand my ground.

I despise you.

I have no respect for you.

I have no desire to keep you in my life.

Continue how you are; and I am willing to cut away anything and everything so I can distance myself from you. You are not worthy of my time, my presence, my anything.

Good day, sir.

Mute

How do I say this
Where do I begin
It's stuck...those words.
They're in there somewhere.
Stuck.
I have much to say
So much that I say none of it.
Where do I even begin? At the very beginning?
I can't really remember that far back
It's hazy
It's blurred
My memory isn't as good as I would like it, I suppose
My fear is that I have lost those words forever.
So instead I stand my ground silently
Not having the words to what I need to say.

What’s in a day?

What would be a good algorithm?

Let’s start:

1. 1.       Is the issue recurring?
2. 2.       What is the issue?
3. 3.       What is the reason for the issue?
4. 4.       End result: walk away or try harder.
5. 5.       Is the conflict internal or external?
6. 6.       What elements are within/out of your control?
7. 7.       What prevents you from walking away?
8. 8.       What prevents you from trying harder?
9. 9.       What changes will need to take place for the issues to be resolved?
10. 10.   Are the parties concerned willing to make those changes?
11. 11.   Is there an underlying issue that needs to be resolved first?
12. 12.   What is a reasonable timeline to see results?

For I am not forgiving

What would you want, and what would you be willing to do to get it? You can’t change what’s been done nor the fact that it will keep happening. What you can change is what you do. Yelling, cussing, crying, are all for naught. Pointless, meaningless, worthless. A waste of everyone’s time. But what will you do? What can you do?

Lie and smile that all is well. Lie and put in elbow grease to mask the tears rolling down your cheeks. Maybe there are no more tears.

Tales of the ziplock bag

It took seven years since we first heard of her escapades. Back then, we had just had a child, and soon after a second one was underway. It felt like a far-off dream. Finally, with the little ones not so little, and people available to care for them whilst we would be away; it was going to happen. We were going. Remember when we bunked over at my brother’s place? No space to even stretch out our arms. Yet now we live in our great double storey palace with our two beautiful children. Big, strong boys. It was just as devastating to tell them that we were leaving them; temporary as it may have been. How could we make them understand that we needed to do this? That we had put our dreams on hold for them. Seven years, we put our dreams on hold, and raised them with all the love in our hearts. Now, now that they can fall asleep without longing for us. Now that they have school to look forward to, friends to keep them company, now. Now, we get to go.

What troubles our minds

As I sat helplessly hearing his tears, unable to comfort him, unable to take away his pain and suffering; I told myself

“If He says the suffering ends, it will end with just (a figurative) a snap of His fingers”

Why do we insist on raising flowers, when weeds are the ones that grow through hardship, and thrive in the most unlikely situations. I closed my eyes as his cries intensified. Pain, discomfort, fear, enveloped him. I could only hold him close and tell him how much I love him.

As I carry him back to his cot, I whisper in his ear

“If He decides you heal, you will. In just an instance. You’ll be healed. But that, only if He decides so. We can only put in our efforts and prayers.”

To the moon and back, they say. Like no other love. But it is not I that has the power to give health. And death has been written long before I first held you in my arms. If He says it is, then it shall be.

Return

Maybe it has been a while. But here I am. With years added to my life, with greater stories from amazing experiences. Hear me, see me, and watch yourself grow.