Kya haal hai tumhara, yeh sawal keye baithay ho

Jantay nahee ke tum hi mera yeh haal keye baithay ho

Chiragh bujh ne ko hain, par hans rahay ho

Saray diye khud bhuja ke, kya kamal keye baithay ho

 first - to the one nameless reader of this blog, I have tried to comment unsuccessfully several times on yours but it errors out. I am truly sorry for the loss of your mother. May Allah swt raise her ranks in Jannat ul Firdous and give you and your family the courage to bear this loss, Ameen. I know all pain pales in comparison to the loss of a parent, but I hope you find respite in that one day you will be reunited in the most beautiful of places inshAllah, and have eternity to fill each other in with all the missed events, milestones, and meaningless nothings of your lives.

_______________________________

i thought things were going well. 

S had been sober 3 months. longest ever, in 12 years. that's crazy, isn't it? I had never before known what 90 days of sobriety looked like.

normal. i would catch myself wondering, is this how normal couples live? they go out for dinner with friends and come back unafraid of another drunken disaster? they trust each other. they laugh together. there's no fear of impending doom every 48 hours. they dont hold their breath because they KNOW nothing bad is awaiting them just around the corner? no rummaging through the corners of the house finding bottles, empty or full, no secretly planning to empty and toss them out without being caught.

a whole being of existing, a whole way of being lifted from me like a burden I didnt know I had been carrying.

I went for umra. I cried in sujood. I stood in front of the kaaba and cried. i didn't deserve this happiness, this peace. The pieces falling together. 

We did ivf. i had 8 frozen embryo's, one of which (or hopefully more) would have one day called me mama.

i have waited 12 years to hear a tiny little voice call out that name. a scrawny pink fist reaching for me in the dark.

it's been too long. the waiting has destroyed me. so much time lost. so much life.

______________________________

we came back. it hasn't been a month. he relapsed 24 hours after arrival. again 5 days ago.

the berating has gotten worse. the cursing. this time, it's personal. it's not just me anymore. it's abbu, its all the things abbus says. you are your father's daughter.

i am. all his good and bad. yes i am. i stare him down defiantly. i will not be embarrassed of my lineage. however crazy they are, they are me and i am them.

you are controlling. you belittle me. humiliate me. disrespect me. that's why i don't talk to you anymore.

12 years of waiting later.

12 years of silence and sacrifice and keeping his respect and nights spent wandering the streets to escape the abuse, locking myself up in spare bedrooms to get away from his anger and aggression.

I am the problem? I was the problem all along?

my mind feel like it's slowly broken. my reality seems like a figment of my imagination. i go to a buzurg in Madinah, one I have always respected.

he tells me, when you play with the dark it plays with you. 

I have been played alright.

he tells me, what khaloo did to me was my own fault. i approached him because of an unfulfilled first love (?!?!?!) everything bad that has ever happened to me, was my own fault.

i am in shock. my insides churn. molestation? the addiction? everything that came after?

how was any of this my fault?

and hearing it in front of S has only emboldened him to believe he the victor, the innocent, the pure. I am the problem. 

no one in this world says to him point blank, YOU messed up. no one. no one dares. even our therapist skirts around it. it has made him a monster, because then he feels entirely justified in all his anger and language towards me.

i am so so tired.

there's nothing left in my marriage, for me. it feels like a scam I have been playing for so long just to pretend I am happy. to pretend i have a companion that fulfilled me.

i am tired. i can no longer play this game, anymore.

___________________________

e

 I want to write but i dont know where to begin.

I didnt realize it had been 3 years since I last actively wrote. So much happened. and yet nothing at all.

I guess the most important of all things was S's DUI. It was devastating when it happened, but this is the longest he has been sober now. In the last 6 months he's relapsed 5 or 6 times, as opposed to relapsing 5 times in a week.

I guess you could say I'm counting that as a blessing. 

But things aren't the way they used to be. And I need to be accountable for that. 

I am tired. I have been tired for a very long time for all the shit he put me through. The strip clubs. The 'massages'. Gambling. Lying. The accidents, finding him facedown at a parking lot with a banged up eye. The yelling screaming and the cursing. 

Yesterday, he cursed at me again. I slapped him. There was a lot of screaming that followed, including pushing me into a corner, spitting on my face, throwing things around, cursing in front of abbu. 

I was numb. 

I don't recognize who I've become. 

When the times are great they're really great. He's respectful, kind, helps with everything around the house, shows me love in his own weird way. He doesn't look at me look at me anymore that's true, rarely approaches me or acknowledges my existence, calls me beautiful etc. It is a lonely existence but I make do with it, mostly because sobriety alone has been such a big blessing. 

I was just telling him the other day that we are finally in a good place after so so long. 

Ha. 

Spoke too soon.

There's too much trauma. Too much has happened. I was always afraid of that. Always told him that by the time you are ready for me, I may not be around, or may not be the same anymore.

I am not the same.

I am not the girl who wouldn't dream of hurting a fly. 

I actually slapped a grown man. My husband.

Why?

I didn't want to be cursed at. I didn't want to be pushed or shoved away. I didn't want violence to be the answer and yet I responded with violence. Why?

Because I have seen my mother been slapped, punched, cursed at, screaming, shoving, shouting, all of it. I didn't want any man to think I would be ok with it. 

But you're damned either way aren't you? As a woman?

If I can't stand being cursed, what do I do? Where do I go? Who will marry a 35 year old childless reject?

If I stand up for myself, well. I was being shoved into a corner 2 minutes later and spat on. And cursed more. He would've punched me if I hadn't screamed for his dad to intervene.

What options do you have as a woman to escape mistreatment? injustice? violence?

Why is our bar for men so low?

People see all the fake pretense, the nice clothes and the car and the house and think, what a lovely couple. Such great people.

It's not real.

But he's not having an affair? He hasn't hit you? He hasn't slapped your face? He doesn't stop you from meeting your parents? 

Where do we draw the line? When do I say, even this is not ok?

I don't know where to begin taking stock of my hurt and my pain. And frankly, my anger.

Exhausted.

e

Nani

it had been a beautiful dholki. 

the kind where all my behnon walay armaan poore ho gaye thay. 

I didn't look at cost. I splurged. Fresh flowers, jhoola, photobooth, backdrop. 

Deej and I had gone to saddar the day before and grabbed strands upon strands of paper flowers, fabric, fairy lights, now interwoven in the iron staircase. 

everyone was happy. 

Nani was...etheral. radiant. her hair done, left to hang in loose curls on her back. 

her ears shimmering with the gold amethyst studs mama had given me. 

in a moment of pure joy amidst the dancing, i had held her hands and lifted her up. we held hands and swung them up and down..

finally a moment of happiness for our family. 

we stayed awake late into the night, finally falling asleep at 5 am from sheer exhaustion. 

'farida api, nani ko aag lag gayee' 

words i will never forget. 

i sprang out of bed, raced downstairs. 

oh god. oh god. oh god. 

the strewn clothes on the floor, black, simmering. 

the smell. 

i ran towards her room. she seemed exhausted, but alive. 

ya Allah, she was unharmed, alive, breathing. 

 my brain on autopilot, we got her to the car. to the wheel chair. to aga khan er. then to patel. 

three days of begging Allah swt for rehem. 

saturday, 4:30am. 

mama woke me up. i was sleeping next to nana. 

'farida utho, nani ke paas jana hai' 

my heart knew. it was time. 

i sprang out of bed. barely pulled on my shawl, chappals, and ran out. 

 

in the car, a text. 

 'inna lilahi wa inna ilaihi rajeeyoun' 

'im so sorry' 

 i sat stunned. 

ammi didn't know. did abbu? 

he was tearing through karachi streets at full speed. 

i couldn't scream. i couldn't cry. 

i sat stunned in disbelief. 

 i still can't recall the next few days. i don't want to remember. 

i remember a few things. 

i remember her smile. 

it lit up her face, whatever room she was in, everyone around her, and our hearts. 

 always that innocent mischievious twinkle in her eye. 

her dainty dainty fingers and perfectly shaped nails. 

the scaly palm of her hands, recovering from decades long psoriosis. 

 'nani, dard nahee hota?' 

'aray beti - ab to kuch nahee' 

we shared the same foot size. narrow long feet. 

we loved swapping sandals. 

i had bought her a pair of warm, fuzzy slippers for her, to keep her cosy in the winter. 

i loved her saris. i loved rummaging in her drawers because all her knick-knacks were....her. meticulously arranged. preserved. 

it always astounded me how carefully she held onto things. 

zaya nahee hona chaheye. kuch bhi. 

her long silver brown hair. she had used too much mehendi, we laughed it was bright orange like dadis. shaadi se pehle kala kerlejeye ga nani. 

what do i even say. how do i explain how i felt when i entered the house and saw her, after my flight. the hug. 

how do i put into words that memory of sitting in hideous plastic chairs in sunny medico, while they gathered the items on our list, in cosy comfortable silence. just 2 days before.

how do i put in words how she fought for me. took me to the dentist. the back doctors. physiotherapy. she was always, always, always, watching out for me. medical, emotional...

dua...tahajjud. 

mere sar pe se saya uth geya hai. 

how i put into this feeling of feeling so exposed? 

how do i put into words this feeling.... 

i will never see her again. hold her again. 

hug her again. 

bury my nose in her shoulder. 

recite salam with her after namaz. 

recite naats with her. 

sing nani teri morni ko. 

do groceries, play antakshari, play sequence, 

learn the right quanity of jafel javetri in garam masala, 

learn how to cut a gharara, 

finally write down every relative and their birth dates.. 

this ache in my heart. 

how do i quantify what your loss means to me Nani? 

i was not prepared. 

we were not prepared. 

the lights were still in the staircase when we got back home, ready to tell nana the news. 

the flowers were still taped to the walls. 

the agony with which i took everything down, spread out the chandni on the floor for your final departure from your home. 

 

nani, mein ne to abhi kuch seekha hi nahee tha. abhi to kuch waqt hua hi nahee tha. 

achi nani pyari nani rootha roothi chordh de 

come back

dil abhi bhara nahee. 

-nawasi

 God has it really been a year since I last wrote?

time flies when you're ...... well, not exactly having fun.

2 minute synopsis of the last year - bought a house in July, yay. a week later found bottles in the house, so not yay. stayed at our apartment for a week since we still had the lease. Sept went to VA for S's bro's baat pakki. October did a roadtrip to Denver with S's family. Nov S's dad moved in with us. October we also went to Turkey to meet my family half-way, had a week long family vacay. December we did a family vacay with Ss family to Orlando.

Throughout all of this was ofcourse the ongoing addiction, drinking every two days, fights, etc etc. 

By Jan, S had made another trip to a strip club. I will remind my non-existent audience this was his fourth trip, and I had warned him if he did so again I would leave. So I got his dad involved. and I did leave, to San Fran to bum at a friend's couch. Yay me. only took almost a decade to stand up for myself.

3 weeks later, S had checked into a rehab. round 2. he refused to see me before he left, so I flew in the next day. and then Dallas decided to fuck me over yet again, because my life wasnt enough, by having a snowstorm. in Dallas. 

and not the pretty kind with snowflakes but the kind that shuts down the roads the heat the hot water and electricity while you are stranded at home without your husband and have only his 70 year old father for support. a week later, I decided the US of A was done royally ruining my life, so I fled to Pakistan.

I stayed in Pakistan for almost 6 weeks, end of feb to mid-april. the longest stretch I have ever had with my parents in a decade. it was....eventful. reminded me of all my past traumas and why I had wanted to marry early in the first place. but also reminded me of ME. a human with her own dreams and wants and an army of love behind her should i chose to need it. during this time Ss sister came down for a week as well, for shopping. that whole story is to come later.

S left rehab after about 50 days or so.....only to go on a  solo trip and end up at a casino for 4 days or so. he also did one of his infamous, wont pick up the phone and lie to me after that he was sleeping gigs, except his brother went to his hotel room and found it empty, so that was busted. 

just writing this makes me realize what a hellhole my life has been.

anyways, despite everyones best advice i flew back to Dallas to figure out where my life stood with S and what I wanted to do. we tried a fresh start. I had my birthday 4 days after I came. 5th day, I tested positive for covid. 

then began the 15 day quarantine in my room, entirely reliant on the one person who I did not want to reliant on, medications, steroids, fever, body aches, asthma attacks etc etc. by the time I was out Ramadan was over, Eid happened (he drank the night before Eid, but that's also tradition is it not?) cursed me out as we got ready for Eid prayer, and played a saint the rest of the day.

but then what else is new?

it was then a month to Ss brother's wedding. I was told we would be hosting about 4 people at our house, and also having a dawat of about 30 ppl. the house was empty. between the turmoil of the past year we had gotten no furniture, and nothing was delivering before 3 months. I went nuts, trying to order furniture online, get second hand lamps, paintings plants etc, some semblance of normalcy into our life. we flew to VA for the wedding, and then I hosted Ss family friends while also doing a dawat for 30 ppl where I made majority of the food. Ss sister got upset with me because my dawat was better than hers and i got more compliments (no shit, this is real) and hasnt spoken to me since. this was 2 weeks ago.

during these two weeks I have found 4 cans of beer and 4 bottles of vodka with S insisting he will stop drinking. he also ended up at the same casino and didnt come home one night, withdrawing a 1000$ he maintains he didnt use for anything other than to buy cigarettes. he came home and promised he was done, and we both agreed we needed something good to look forward to. something positive.

so i agreed to start fertility treatments. got my ultrasound done, and the day i was supposed to get on clomid to start the iui process, found S had been drinking again. i showed the bottle to his dad, who yelled at him, and in turn S yelled at me and called me a C*^^*^^% in front of his dad, and told me to leave.

i was in a hotel the past two days and only just got home. for what, i dont know. to talk divorce? to talk....what? apologies? does anything even matter anymore? how do i restart my life now? is it even worth it?

my brain is numb with all these questions. the only thing that i am allowing myself to feel other than the enveloping numbness is regret. why the hell did i marry him in the first place? what the fuck was i thinking?

July 7 marks 9 years to our marriage. 9 years of utter chaos. an alcohol addiction to destroyed me probably more than it destroyed him. stuck in limbo.

i have never felt more alone or isolated. i am stuck in the guest bedroom of our house as i have been many many many times before. too many times to count. i have spent half of my last 2 years fleeing from him and the other trying desperately to believe i too can have the normal married-with-two-kids life i so crave. i guess some things are not meant to be, and i dont know how many more shocks to my system i need to have in order to finally believe that i wont get what i have been fighting for. a chance at a 'normal' life where my biggest concern is how to potty train my kid, not which casino or strip club my husband is lying drunk at.

how did my life get so fucked up anyway? i wish i knew.

i guess i know nothing of what i thought i did.

i dont need you.

i dont need you

i dont.

god.

the tumbling

i guess i should write.

my mom prays one day i will get the courage to write like i used to. i guess she means with flair and raw biting honesty.
i guess that will mean i need to remove these balls lodged inside my chest. the nearest one is just behind my lip, inside a bleeding gum. its connected to another, another, another...all the way down my spine into my intestines and up into the narrow veins in my brain.
i cannot think. i cannot feel. i can't seem to dislodge it because so much of my sanity sits poised on this carefully balanced structure and without it i feel i might shatter.

__________

the therapist calls it emdr. i feel like it is inception.
i remember specific memories and hold them in my hands until they burn and i am a slobbering mess. in my closet hiding lest he hears, while my therapist watches me on a tiny 3 inch screen unravel and dissolve and tells me he's here, he's here, focus, breathe.
i focus, i swing until my exhausted eyes numb the scalding hot memory. i break.
and repeat. and repeat. the pyramid of newspaper glass and thorny scrunched balls boxes i haven't opened in many years starts to come tumbling down.
the noise is deafening inside me, i lay crumpled on my sofa unable to move.

____________

later the next day A messages me out of the blue. i guess it must be so.
in another life i would've said he might've felt the tumbling across the country. in another life i was naive.
the tumbling has allowed enough of my voice to come through. i protest. i demand. i blubber out my anger. my hurt. i hold onto my fledgling ego and self-respect and scream in gently typed texts my confusion and pain.
'how can i make it better?'
promises to not abandon, a try and keeping the sanity, revelations of some sweetness that cause more pain than balm.
'i waited outside your door'

i still feel.....used. discarded. not good enough. never good enough. lacking. disappointing. small.
so utterly utterly small.

_______________

the tumbling has dislodged people i forgot to take to court.
i digress, i didnt forget. i just didnt feel i had the right to.
i picture them one by one and rise in inches remembering i too have right to ask.
'why did you hurt me?'
' why did you leave me?'

why have i done this to myself?

i don't know. shif called me dil phek.
i was. i am.
i don't know what i was looking for.
a channel for my intensity i couldn't handle?
tenderness i need to balm my old grown-too-fast heart?

why did i always seek men?
why is it that no matter what kind of love i provided, friendship, emotional, physical, sexual, mental, whatever it was....just never good enough.
what is it about me that caused them all to disappear?
either i chose the weakest of men, or the strongest of men chose the weakness in me.

_________________

im heartbroken.
i feel S is one of them and yet i don't want to add his name to the list.
i dont know why.
i think it is less that i want to give up on him and more i can't admit i have yet again loved the wrong one the wrong way and lost again.
i dont want another failure, the one i have given the most too.
and so i persist on loving him when he is the most unlovable. i persist on loving him when my heart is splitting apart with the angst he causes me.
i resolutely stop listening when parents tell me to leave, when my friends call it abuse, when i am cowering in the car because his drunk self is hammering on the glass snarling at me.
i try and remember the fledgling tenderness.
i use it to the glue all the newspaper and the tissue and the plastic and the thorn scrunched up bits and pieces of me and stuff it back down my throat least i fall apart again.

where would i go?
yes the freedom and the lightness of spirit, yes the reyhaai....but where?
a lifetime of abandonment and loss?
seeking and being used again and again and again?
i am so vulnerable right now any misleading intention masked in 2 honeyed words would be enough to let me melt and be abused... so where would i run?

no place is safe anymore. my room. the car. my mind. the closet. the world. other men.
what if i find myself trapped behind another white door in another city with another man on the other side?

kaisi reyhaai jab yeh andar sarah hi itna zehar se bhara hai?


_______________

what i wanted then and all i want even now.

a love that will not destroy me.
a love that will consume me and give me back more than what i give to it.
a relief wider than ocean and a tenderness like a crumpled petal
a sunshine mind that sings alongside my voice
a blue eternal sky and a togetherness that life and its gham cannot break apart
an ' i know you' that traverses down our shins with roots depp into the earth
a heart that understands when i am voiceless

i live in the unreal and i cannot cannot
pull anyone in here with me
i can't get out
i can't find anyone here

it is like inception. i am in a creation of my own mind with no relief.
i am alone and all i see and feel is fear
and the tumbling

_______________________

so much has happened.

s ended in the hospital with a black and blue eye, goose egg.
midnight calls to tell me he may not be alive. he may never walk again. he...
doesnt remember anything.
(he's ok now, i'm not)
10 days later, frantic flights halfway across the world because ammi in the hospital
N got a divorce.
the shattered sighs of my brother cutting across my heart as I pull myself together, watching him sign divorce papers for the love of his life
rushing back to a relapsing husband
chaos
world pandemic. american civil war.
return of A.
we bought a house for stability
its better. nothings better. everything is.
i dont know.

i am not myself. i dont know who i am anymore
i thought id always find myself in the madness but now, living for him and him and her and him and him and her and him and her , i
don't know where in the equation i even have space for myself
probably nowhere

i started therapy. meaningless mumble in circles
xanax hlps my heart from breaking out of my chest
the unfortunate side-effect of which is that my heart
seeks to break out of my chest even more
baaghi

i hide in the complete destruction of my eyelids
drooping heavy with sighs that are uttered from other throats
curled on a bed of embers
shreds and pieces
flesh stained sheets of flesh
im wrapped unwrapped neither here nor
there, but everywhere
i see myself, but dont
see myself at all

i am trying to find within myself spaces to breathe
little holes of comfort where it's just my mind and things that bring me peace
old songs. tv shows. good memories. happy thoughts.
spaces i am not beating myself for being a disappointment as a daughter
a failure as a wife, an overbearing overshadowing sister
an inconsistent friend, a morally void human and above all
a spiritually bankrupt Muslim
i find lately i cannot hold up a mirror to what others think of me
and what i think of me and find a parallel in those dichotomies. there is none.
i am two different people and i hate, hate, hate
the person i am, for the mistakes i have made, the lack of things i have accomplished.

what's new?


i moved to a different city. 2 days short of our first month here.
S and his brother got into a fist fight brawl yesterday. there was blood. cops came over.
we convinced them it was brotherly 'rumbunctious' love that got a tad out of hand.
no one pressed charges. no one was arrested. not sure if anyone was shaken up enough to realize that this can't happen anymore.


i write as i am feeling. completely utterly numb.
my mind has turned to mush. nothing makes sense. nothing feels good. all my days are stitched together into one long episode where everything keeps repeating in cycles but nothing changes.
self-medication is the only only thing that keeps the headaches at bay and my sanity loosely intact enough i make it from one day to the next.


my anxiety is the worst it's ever been. i am not having panic attacks anymore because i have numbed myself enough so i no longer feel anything, but internalized anxiety and stress doesn't mean its disappeared. it comes out in other ways.
mostly brain fog, all the time. not being able to think straight. not retaining any new information so no short term memories, very poor recall, and terrifying nightmares. being chased, running, stabbing someone who wont die, and almost always, something to do with flights. missing flights, or being on an airplane and getting kicked off, or never making it to the airport, or being at the airport but being lost at the terminal. not sure what that's about.
my head feels like...being at sea is the best way to describe it. as if my brain's rolling back and forth so I can't tell which way is up or down. it's worst when I wake up, so i can barely keep my eyes open. sleeping in helps, but then i've been sleeping in for hours and hours hoping the nightmare that awaits when i wake up is better than the nightmare i dreamt of with my eyes closed.


i don't know what to do. which isn't true. i do know what to do but i am terrified to do it because.
im scared of the unknown
im scared that this next step will end my life as i know it, break my bond with S somehow which is already quite broken and I unable to admit it
scared ke log kya kahenge. yes really.
scared of never being able to come back. what if it does end up in an divorce and then would i want to be a divorced 30 year old? what aer my prospects then?
scared of loneliness
scared of independance. of having to brave the world myself. not that he offers any protection but there's still some peace there in my mind.


it's insane isnt it that i would find peace in the violence and the cops and the throwing punches and keys and glasses and phones flying everywhere in the middle of the night and screams and shouting and cursing MORE than i would peace in meing alone without any violence....


it's not insane when you think that violence is all i have known. I have seen my mother be punched and slapped and so this violence doesn't surprise me. it should but it doesnt. it should shake my core but it doesnt. it should elicit some emotion from me but it doesn't.


you know what elicits emotion? when Ahlee texts me that I am not alone, to not feel alone. that i have a home to run to if i want. then i ball my eyes out.


my heart and mind and soul is otherwise shut. drowning in cotton fields keep pulling cotton balls out of my mouth and ringing ears.


this too shall pass. hopefully. soon. i hope i stay alive long enough to see the end of it.


e

after his 8 day sober spell when he did relapse, i should say it came as a surprise but really didn't. of course the usual happened, heartache, anguish, pain like i had neevr felt before.
my heart feels like it's been ripped open again. i want to tear the world apart.
my rage knows no bounds.
how much longer? what more? how much more.
ya Allah is there no end to the tests you put us through?

i refused to leave my room for 3 days. sleeping working and crying. he came and lied down on me today, his head shaking uncontrollably. tremors. withdrawl symptom after aclean break and relapse.
his head shook for hours.
when i refused to sleep with him in our room he became violent again, as he does when he doesn't get his way drunk or in withdrawal. he banged on the door so hard i thought someone in the building would call the cops. he called me all the worst names in the book and finally, i grabbed my coat and left at 130am. drove teh car infront of his face while he waso n the phone screaming.

but chicken that i am, 7 years of doing this later, it's still not enough for me to finally have the balls to leave. 30 minutes later i was home, and he was in his bed and i in mine. 2 roomates barely acquainted who speak the 10 days a month he is intermitently sober, but otherwise live this false parade of appearances waiting to see who dies first.

my life is in shambles. i have no where to run. no place i feel safe. terrified to be without a roof over my head i call home. no family within 1000 miles. alone.

and a God who isn't done with me yet. i have cried and pleaded and begged and prayed and there still seems to be no end. no end to this misery.

dont know what to do. curse the day i thought i would marry him and reform him. curse myself for being an idiot. the biggest idiot i know.

this 30th bday, i'd like to give myself

freedom. from life.
no more heartaches
no more heartbreaks
no more regrets
no more every day tears, no more
everyday comforting others and drowning on the inside
pretending
trying
trying
trying
fighting
pushing
pulling
giving
exhausted laboring on
no
more
enough.

bus.

i miss you A.
screaming this into this void because, well, where else?

wonder if you will hear me.
wonder how i will get through this year without you. stakes are higher. things are worse.
and i miss, i NEED, above all, my friend in you.

all the men in the world, they've sucked the lifesoul out of me.
drained me out in red rivulets, spreadeagled i give birth to my pain
and my anguish; my emotional burden of
carrying unfinished boys on my shoulders and giving shelter
to their excuses, their lies, broken half-finished promises,
disappearances becauses they can't shoulder too many
burdens of their own.
i may be a cowering shipwreck but
there's old treasures buried in me still,
glinting in sunbeams when i smile,
fake or otherwise; i can bring
nations down to their feet when as a mother, as a lover
then can i not
bring you down to your
knees?

or
make you rise
from your own ashes?
do not question my strength
i may be perfectly still but i'm only
quietly gathering strength to

ignite.

collateral damage/ or reasons why I'm upset

At 3 am I am putting back the lamp that toppled over. The glass on the floor that didn't shatter. Wiping the water from the iPad. The suitcase he flung out the room has been put back. The pack of printing paper flung across the room is resting on the laundry bin again, now upright. I've picked up my clothes and the blanket he threw in the ground, and washed the mascara and eyeliner staining my cheeks. My wrist is a little swollen again just like a few days ago where you grabbed it to get my phone out of my hand. My gold chain is broken because it got caught in the tussle, that will take longer to fix.
Don't worry about my heart. It's been broken so far past repair it doesn't even need to be considered anymore.

..........

You get more and more violent.
Today all this because I hid your keys so you wouldn't drive drunk.
We grappled over my phone and then I had to push you out of my way so I can flee the apartment.
A few days ago you punched my cereal box down for...I don't even remember now.
A few days before you grabbed both wrists so hard they were sore for days, because I said to you I wish your mom taught you some manners when you had cursed me out again.

This is all after that time you had dragged me by the feet out of the car a few months ago and begged for forgiveness afterwards because you couldn't believe you had lost control.
..........

I don't even flinch anymore when you call me fucking idiot or fuck you or bitch or chutiya.
I've become so desensitized to it after 6 years of such drunken love talk.

..........

Tomorrow we wear our smiles and go about our day again.
Be a good daughter a good sister before die trying to be a good wife.

Seems we never learn our lesson.
I promised I wouldn't let any man lay a finger on me after what happened to my mom but here we are.

Keep swimming,

E