I
have not been writing or on social media much in recent days. I have been in a reflective mood. Thinking about
life, my children, writing and why I have not been inclined to do or write much
recently. Most of all about my relationship
with those around me, but especially myself.
I
was anxious that I was getting lazy or losing interest in life and the excitement
I have about the parts of life I enjoys most: faith, family, arts and crafts, celebration,
writing, books and so on. But after the
first few weeks I started to see the value of doing nothing – the way it leaves
space for reflection and also for unexpected and unplanned things to come into
your life.
I
think way too much, I take on guilt, I questions my decisions, I take on blame
for all sorts of things. I am quick to feel sorry for people and to trust. I am
cowardly sometimes in standing up for myself and I have always been scared of hurting others, to the point that I will apologise to resolve a matter even if I
think it is only partially my fault. I hate conflict. All of these things make me a kind and
helpful person. To everyone but myself.
I
got a bit of a jolt when I was catching up with some university friends and
they were teasing me about how fierce and wild I used to be. I would argue with a lecturer in front of the
whole auditorium. I barely recognise that wilful, self-confident girl. Then my sisters reminded me how mean and vicious
I could be when they were growing up, I think my whole family were a little
wary of me. Of course I don’t want to be
that person again, but there is certainly something of her that is worth
revisiting and reclaiming (I think hubby has made me too soft 😊 ).
Certainly
in the last few years I have tied myself up in knots over a few things: not wearing
niqab, being a Muslim woman and working and a being a working mother (and holding
myself back in my career for years because of this). Also, not being a good enough mother, my kids
not being genius A* high achievers and Islamic scholars in the making at the
same time. Reading novels instead of religious or at least factual books.
Watching rubbish online. Oh and the house could be cleaner.
I
came to a point, when I couldn’t do that to myself anymore. I had to harden my heart a little. I had to tell myself to do what I need to do,
to stop feeling guilty, to leave it to Allah (SWT) and trust he will guide me
to what he wants for me, if I leave my heart open to it. Having made that decision, then to just got on with things and allow myself to do well. Imagine working hard to support your family and the feeling guilty and ashamed at doing so. When I write it like that - it seems so silly.
It’s
helped me in so many ways. I don’t care
anymore about what people think – not others, not my family, not the masjid
community. I can’t eat their opinion or
approval, or wear it, or bank it. So it’s no use to me. I had to get quite angry with myself to get
to this point. But it felt so, very,
liberating! I feel free and fearless. My
salah is so much better because it’ not full or remorse or guilt, but just my
best effort in each moment, sometimes not very good, but when I am distracted
and lose focus, I always bring myself back to trying my best in the moment rather
than feeling ashamed. I have to make a point of refusing to feel bad and just carrying on.
It’s
funny, I used to see bitter, rude middle-aged women and think I hope I never
get like that. But, as I hit 40, I kind of see why they get like that. You just don’t care, you have less patience
for foolishness and you are less naïve, so you see through people’s nonsense
and insincerity. I pray I am never
unkind, bitter or rude. But I am enjoying owning my fearlessness.
Most
of all these weeks have been a reminder to always be honest with myself - no matter how harsh or painful – whether about
the upbringing of my children, my eating habits, or my anxieties. To hold a mirror up, face what I see and deal
with it.
More
than reflection, I feel that this growth in myself has come from dhikr. I have been doing a lot of dhikr recently, particularly
of Allah’s sacred names, some for my children to be good people (Ash-Shaheed,
Rabb, Al Kafil), but some others for contentment and peace (Ar-Rahman,
Al-Qaddus, An Nur). I feel like these
have given my heart enough rest to think clearly and be brave.
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