Tuesday, June 29, 2021

Damsel in distress, tomboy to hero

Were there to be men in my family, I would've long allowed myself to be a damsel in distress. In reality, I couldn't think of someone needing rescuing and looking after more than myself at this time. Not because of the outside situations, or the circumstances, but because of who I am and what my needs are at the core, despite the appearances. Behind this very solid figure hides a very delicate creature, who needs extremely deep connections, and consistent presence, to truly thrive. It is no news by now, I've been running on survival mode, for as far as I could remember... 

When you're at your saddest / lowest, the truth comes out of you, without any filters. As soon as you're back online, in the world of demons, the filters are back on; filters to see through, filters to speak through, such is a system! 

I've said gems in the last two months, but then again I've been saying the truth in so many different ways and forms throughout my entire life, with no acknowledgments, and mostly only rejections. 

When Jade, my drumming teacher and friend asked me after a class we had years ago, few months after knowing me, why do I always have to be a Hero, why don't I take it easy? I went quiet, in an untypical manner. I don't let questions or comments drop by me easily usually, most especially if directed towards me, most especially if addressed to me directly, I always have an answer. That particular time, I was still getting used to Jade and learning about him. Like me, he says it as it is, as he sees it - but as he wants it too - and I was processing his words still. At one hand, he seems to have understood me when I expressed myself in numerous occasions prior to that, a lot about my life was shared already and been acknowledged, on the other hand, he was judging my approach, belittling my struggle. I never got back to him about this one, he never said things in the same fashion again. He's a very smart and sharp person, one of the few very gifted people I know, though he's not always on point. 

Here's the answer, to myself if anything, since I have often repeated that question in my head since that day, especially anytime I was in doubt about my handling of this whole thing we call life. It's a very long winded answer, brace yourself.

Masculinity is energy. It isn't gender, nor is it concepts, big words, or ideas, and certainly not a title. When my body started to develop as a woman, I wanted to hide it. As a teenager, I turned myself into a Tom boy; the demeanors, the outfits, the walk, the talk. Most important of all though, embodying the masculine energy in spirit. I felt most safe, most at ease and truly myself within that space. 

My life in family up until then have been spent mostly between two groups. One group consisting of my father, eldest brother, and their friends and neighbours. In this group time was spent mostly in the workshop of my father and inside the shop, evenings hangouts at home, or outings. The second group consisted of my mother, sister, and their friends and neighbours, spent mostly at home, ours or theirs. I watched very closely the dynamics in other households too, namely my own close friends and neighbours. There was a stereotype for sure, and I didn't need to judge as such, but I realized simply, as a result of it all, that I'm most excited and happy inside the first group. 

Inside the workshop, it was always very busy, father working away with his hands, multitasking, giving away orders, supervising the work of others, coordinating with my brothers, checking progress, schedule etc. On less busy hours, when it was just my brother inside the workshop, we would be joined by his friends. The work would carry on efficiently, but with entertaining conversations going on on the side. Big ideas, local topics, the world and the news, hopes and ambitions, and plenty of jokes and laughs. Brother had a classy air to him, he spoke little, but anything that came out of his mouth was precise and neat. No talk for the sake of plainly talking. He was smart, brainy, and nerdy. I loved how work was only just part of who he was. He excelled outside of it too, with his big thoughts, opinions, taste in music and literature, hobbies, and quirks. I learned so much with him and through him. We often went on long walks after night shifts, to exercise and clear his head. Then there were those times when we would go out, I would join him with his friends inside his car, first trips to the movies, first long rides, old and new songs, old and new friends. They would every now and then address their talk to me to keep me engaged, but I was never bored of their grown up (safe) conversations. It was extremely stimulating to my mind, I understood and digested a lot early on. I felt safe with my brother not just because of all the action, but the inaction too. Those cosy evenings at home inside his little space, with his computers, discs, books, and collections of Reader's digest magazines. We would listen forever to music, I would learn so much about so many things through him. I was mostly at peace around him because he was a man who knew what he wanted, was firm about it, and unflexible with it. He was authentic in every sense of the word, and when with him, the present moment felt pleasant, and just enough. It's hard to remember nowadays similar moments of serenity around people, not even himself at this stage. But that's another story, for another time. 

Then there was my father, most exciting man I've ever known.

(to be continued...) 

Wednesday, June 16, 2021

Propagation

I discovered the world of plant propagation a while ago. Spring is a good time to plant, re-pot, and surely, propagate. I was busying myself potting a newly purchased Pothos plant few weeks ago, only to discover it was infested with some insects. I panicked not knowing whether it's a normal thing or not. In that very moment I cursed my mother. I remember saying in my head passages that would do for a blog post. "This week, I cursed you twice my mother. First time for never growing plants, and the second time for never showing me how to grown plants, let alone deal with such a plant growing problem as bug infestation. This blog post isn't about plants, or bugs. It's about a very deeply rooted issue, with the mother in my life, and my mother. More on that soon." And then I brushed the thought away. I googled the problem and it turned out to be a more or less common thing. I didn't read about the treating the problem part, hands were busy and dirty, I followed my instinct instead, cleared the plant totally from the old soil, took away all the bugs, and seperated it into several different parts. I divided it in two pots. I used a healthy new mix of soil, cleaned the leaves, watered it, and put it in a nice bright area. The next morning it looked very green and happy, and new baby leaves started to sprout very shortly after. 

More about propagating later, I'm feeling very dizzy and tired, nothing new these days. But I will post what the dictionary define propagation: 

"noun: propagation

  1. 1.
    the breeding of specimens of a plant or animal by natural processes from the parent stock.
    "the propagation of plants by root cuttings"
    • reproduction by natural processes.
      "hunting regulations ensure the propagation of the species"
  2. 2.
    the action of widely spreading and promoting an idea, theory, etc.
    "a life devoted to the propagation of the Catholic faith"
  3. 3.
    transmission of motion, light, sound, etc. in a particular direction or through a medium.
    "the propagation of radio waves through space"

As for the Arabic translation, here goes: 
  1. 1. نشر
  2. 2. انتشار
  3. 3. توالد
  4. 4. تكاثر
  5. 5. بث
  6. 6. امتداد
  7. 7. تفشي
  8. 8. تناسل
  9. 9. اتساع
  10. 10. شيوع
  11. 11. نماء

Tuesday, June 15, 2021

"Put down that bag of potato chips, that white bread, that bottle of pop.
Turn off that cellphone, computer, and remote control.
Open the door, then close it behind you.
Take a breath offered by friendly winds. They travel the earth gathering essences of plants to clean.
Give it back with gratitude.
If you sing it will give your spirit lift to fly to the stars’ ears and back.
Acknowledge this earth who has cared for you since you were a dream planting itself precisely within your parents’ desire.
Let your moccasin feet take you to the encampment of the guardians who have known you before time, who will be there after time. They sit before the fire that has been there without time.
Let the earth stabilize your postcolonial insecure jitters.
Be respectful of the small insects, birds and animal people who accompany you.
Ask their forgiveness for the harm we humans have brought down upon them.
Don’t worry.
The heart knows the way though there may be high-rises, interstates, checkpoints, armed soldiers, massacres, wars, and those who will despise you because they despise themselves.
The journey might take you a few hours, a day, a year, a few years, a hundred, a thousand or even more.
Watch your mind. Without training it might run away and leave your heart for the immense human feast set by the thieves of time.
Do not hold regrets.
When you find your way to the circle, to the fire kept burning by the keepers of your soul, you will be welcomed.
You must clean yourself with cedar, sage, or other healing plant.
Cut the ties you have to failure and shame.
Let go the pain you are holding in your mind, your shoulders, your heart, all the way to your feet. Let go the pain of your ancestors to make way for those who are heading in our direction.
Ask for forgiveness.
Call upon the help of those who love you. These helpers take many forms: animal, element, bird, angel, saint, stone, or ancestor.
Call your spirit back. It may be caught in corners and creases of shame, judgment, and human abuse.
You must call in a way that your spirit will want to return.
Speak to it as you would to a beloved child.
Welcome your spirit back from its wandering. It may return in pieces, in tatters. Gather them together. They will be happy to be found after being lost for so long.
Your spirit will need to sleep awhile after it is bathed and given clean clothes.
Now you can have a party. Invite everyone you know who loves and supports you. Keep room for those who have no place else to go.
Make a giveaway, and remember, keep the speeches short.
Then, you must do this: help the next person find their way through the dark."

~ Joy Harjo, For Calling the Spirit Back from Wandering the Earth in Its Human Feet

Monday, June 14, 2021

Sobering up

On my left, the phone is open on my instagram account. I went all the way down to my very first post, dated 10th April 2018. It's a beautiful artistic, yet very simplistic photo of a small journal with a pen on top of it. In the background you could see the pastel wall color, the shade from the curtain above, and the burgundy couch. The caption says: "It was finally time I had my own personal Instagram account. I have been hiding behind the business and work and commitments and responsibilities. But I have now decided to love myself a little bit more. Time for writing." 

On my right, a big notebook is open on its first pages, a plan of my first book from the year 2016, and a long list of topics and contents. 

If everything I lived has lead me to this very moment where I'm reminded of how much I need to do this writing this, than I am grateful, and dare I say, happy. 

I haven't posted anything on my instagram since 24th May. I am usually active, not crazy active, but active. There's a 101 reasons for me wanting and needing to write, yet all I seem to be doing is distracting myself from it. There's pain and a well of things to dig and feel and think out, and through, when it comes to writing. This account and that post, as I remember very clearly, was made to mark a certain passage, an end and a start of a new cycle, where I return to my self expression existence. But what was writing from that? Worlds apart!

It occurred to me this morning just how badly addicted our humanity has become to the so called social media. Instagram hearting, Facebook liking, youtube subscribing (or disliking), tweeting and retweeting, the follows, the likes, the comments, the stories, the reels, the views, the stats, the exposure, the clicking, the instant gratifications, the quick and fast and easy everything, the "content creating"! And boy did I fall into it the trap myself! 

Such slavery! Whatever they change, whatever new features they add, or old features they remove, we adjust. We resist at the start, but sure we persist. Such wasted resilience! A whole generation of youngsters are growing with this as the sole medium for self expression. We need to be seen so badly that we have fallen into the trap of the illusion of it happening virtually. 

I'm glad I'm sobering up. Instant gratification was never my thing. I need depth, pacing, slow motion, and a lot of pausing too. I need to create with my words pictures, sounds and motion. I need to invite and welcome people into my inner world with the slow pacing of words, and the magic that process creates. I need to express a very intricate world that exists in my mind and soul, with intricate words, and the right pacing. 


Monday, May 24, 2021

Alone, barren

I don't recognize myself.

Too busy catching up with the tide. Mastering my survival mode skills. Keeping up with the price of things, with the changes. Excelling at avoiding exposure to news. Honing my single parenting skills. Singlehandendly dealing with everything that has to do with our living, surviving and thriving. Dealing with, facing and processing emotions, feelings, and thoughts. Healing from traumas, and I don't say healing lightly, nor trauma, not a little, not at all. 

I've been busy healing our feminine, empowering our masculine, doing work and study and art, doing us and relationships and connections. Doing floors and windows and chores and errands and cooking and making and eating. So much of it, very little nurturing.

I've been so busy that I've denied myself seeing, so busy and caught up with the living that I ignored my me under that skin. It's stretched a hundred times and I still use the fat to cope with this so called living. 

Daughter left to school a while ago. First time since ever. I am home alone, I can't feel my body from all the pains, aches from yesterday's walk, tummy still upset since the visit to the supermarket, low and dizzying energy everywhere I go, whomever I encounter. Extremely fiery energy inside caused by an adolescent who hasn't been living normally in the society for nearly two years. To say I'm tired, would be an understatement. 

I keep running in every direction. Because of I don't, who would, and isn't life made for the living? The doing? The being? 

I don't know how to sit still anymore. There are pains beyond pains, and I need nurturing.


Thursday, May 20, 2021

Pacing

The seasons seem to be going way too fast than my system, heart and mind can adjust to. I needed a much longer winter, and spring is going by too fast, summer might stay a little, I don't mind, but Autumn, I can live in a perpetual Autumn season if I could. Now that would be a dream! 

Time is going too fast, either that, or I have started to slow down. The pacing is of utmost importance to me these days, in absolutely every aspect of life, in everything I do, I say, and everyrhing I am. Communicating too, there seems to be a constant rush in blabbering whatever is inside one's head.

At this age and stage in my life, I need pacing... Must add that to my tinder profile. 

Tinder, a whole post should be dedicated to that alone. What a fast, fast world we live in! 

Wednesday, May 19, 2021

The man in the dream

I saw him last night, it's the second time now. First time he was announcing what he was looking for, but I was physically far from him, and couldn't tell his exact words, nor was I able to let him see me. This time around, it was different. 

He's tall and broad, dark skinned, with big olive green eyes, soft features, deep voice. I stood in front of him, very close, and allowed him to speak. He told me of his plans, a cruise in the sea, an adventure. I got him to repeat his words, first time I felt lost in his eyes and couldn't focus on the content of his words. He did charm me, with his very soul.

The plan was a cruise around several countries, he repeated his words in exactly the same precision, calm, and pacing. The second option was "or just a short and brief cruise around the shore". It is this option that made me consider his offer, the first one felt too far fetched to me, considering my fears from the sea, and my dislike of sailing in the water. Also the fact that I wish to get to know him at my own pace, inside my own space. I was tempted though, his confidence and genuine desire for this journey could be felt in his very being, and mine as a result. The flexibility with the second choice made me feel his genuine desire, and maturity. 

I stood there not saying a word, not expressing myself, nor speaking my mind, but I made him feel my interest. I got closer to him, I was gazing straight into his eyes (his very soul), he wraps his arms around my waist and gently pulled me closer to him. He said "you have surprised me". I kept the gaze going, as I felt a magical rush of energy exchange between our beings, while I caressed gently the lobe of his right ear with the tips of my left fingers. I surprised myself too, but I didn't utter a word, the moment was too beautiful and rich for words.

The birds woke me up from my sleep, but the dream remained with me. I hope to see him again in another dream soon, it's been a while since I had those beautiful ones. 

As for writing, it has been a while too, but things need to be done outside of my expressing with words world.

I haven't stopped journaling though, I've been on a journey of my own, but nothing new there...

Wednesday, May 12, 2021

“Grandma, how do you cope with pain?”

“With your hands, honey. 
If you do it with your mind instead of relieving the pain, it toughens even harder.”

“With your hands grandma?”

“Yes, our hands are the antennae of our soul. 
If you move them; knitting, cooking, painting, playing or sinking them into the ground, you send care signs to the deepest part of you and your soul lights up because you’re paying attention to it. 
Then signs of pain will no longer be necessary.”

“Hands are really that important?”

“Yes my daughter. 
Think of babies: they start to know the world through the touch of their hands. 
If you look at the hands of old people, they tell you more about their life then any body part. 
Everything that is done by hand is said to be done with the heart. 
Because it’s really like this: hands and heart are connected. 
Masseurs know well: when they touch someone with their hands, they create a deep connection.
It is precisely from this connection that healing comes. Think of lovers: when they touch their hands, they make love in a more sublime way.”

“My hands grandma.... how long I haven’t used them like this!”

“Move them, my love. 
Begin to create with them and everything within you will begin to move. 
The pain will not pass away. 
And instead what you do with them will become the most beautiful masterpiece and it won’t hurt anymore. 
Because you have been able to transform its essence.”

 ~Elena Bernabe 

Tuesday, April 27, 2021

April is almost over

Cat is not here anymore, I've been sad and low since. 
I missed our mornings, the birds and the sunlight, her following me in every room, the morning cuddles and the purring, the excitement, the meawing, and her presence... 
But, I knew she had to go, the mood changing, the unpredictability, the misbehavior, the attitude... it was just too much for my not usually cat person self to handle. 
She's with my sister now, she adopted her two weeks ago, she's getting along well with her cat, besties she calls them. And only today I can finally relax, she climbed up on her chest and cuddled for a little bit. 

The cat topic aside, I am overwhelmed with bouts of sadness and grief. My body is suffering greatly... under the stress of trying to find balance with the changes, all changes, I found myself going to drumming again. Only thing is, I can not do it anymore. My body is clearly telling me (has been doing so for a good while now), but I kept on ignorning, until it could do no more. I've been having physiotherapy, ciropractice, and thai massage, besides stretching at home, and nothing is working. The pain is not going away, nor waning. I found myself spending days (wasting) lately doing nothing but only just trying to cope with the pain and take it easy. 

I did manage to get hooked on reading again, I think it's my solace, especially that I found myself getting depressed again, I could not / would not allow it to consume, not this time around! 

Writing however, meh, I tried on several occasions to journal, and the pain of handwriting killed me. All the things one need for one's dominant arm and its joints! 

One thing I said to myself this morning however, I've got one thing constant and not changing for sure, and that's the warm weather. In the next few months and for the rest of the spring / summer period, the sun will almost always shine every morning, and throughout the day, the weather is expected to be hot / warm and in between, and the day relatively long. I can at least focus on this one fixed, constant and consistent routine to try to alleviate the anxiety of the continuous uncertainty and increasing levels of stress in our day to day life in this land of misery! 

Needless to say, I've been finding it extremely hard to keep my calm lately, I don't know how but things got so bad energetically speaking since I got the cat. And though a weight has been lifted since sister adopted her, it feels as though more cleaning (cleansing) needs to be done to gain my normal state of being again. 

Perhaps the cat was a metaphor too, and perhaps I was triggered a lot because of her, and that it's good to know (be reminded of) what I am capable of giving and where / what I need receiving. 

It's a relatively hot evening, and it's a full moon night, and I'm finding it extremely hard to relax. I will sip on another cup of chamomile in the hope of calming my weary mind. The sun shines on me on my bed these days, I hope it eases the pain and warms my heart gently each new day until I become full and complete again...  

Monday, April 12, 2021

Aimless

I was up all night, I cried my heart out.
I allowed myself to feel all that I've been using food to numb away. 
There's a lot of pain, because of the longing, and the missing, and what was lost, and what could have been, ought to have been.
I must eat good again, I start today. 
I did not work, I did not attend to anything or anybody today.
I made art with daughter, together we are processing so much still. 
I am tired is an understatement.

I wish to have a little break from existence itself.

It keeps going... aimlessly. 

Friday, April 9, 2021

Nee Saan

The days and seasons are blending into each other. I am dragging a very heavy weight package through them. My coping mechanisms changing only in appearance, deep inside the pain is one and the same. I need a closure, or to validate it myself. The longing is ever growing, and the warmer weather is only making it more obvious. I wish to avoid still this very existence; I haven't been able to make peace with so much fire within that cries out for so much air and water. I keep grounding myself, but I'm sprouting just as much as I'm routing, and I should remind myself of the elegance of not resisting a fate of ripened fruits being wasted away. My solace is Autumn, always looking forward to Autumn, any time of the year, especially in Spring, especially in April.

... نيسان

Wednesday, April 7, 2021

Contain it not

I'm awoken in the middle of my sleep by dreams. Intense ones involving close people in my life, and the theme lately is home. I wake up shaking from many of them, some of them put me face to face with my deepest fears and most unhealed pains.

I struggle in Spring, often feeling not ready yet for the ice to melt, for my hybernation to end, for my wounds to be exposed.

The resisting holds little power against the fixated change of weather and turn of seasons, and I succomb. In my succumbing, a volcano of tamed emotions erupts, and I find myself swept away by the essence of my own existence; a passion that I could never fully fathom, only trying to integrate it in this very cold and squared so called civilized existence. 

Tuesday, April 6, 2021

Here goes nothing, nowhere...

I'm clenching on my jaw, I've been pressing my teeth. I have just realized so; I am in bed winding down, ready to sleep. Tomorrow I get back to writing, I keep saying to myself every night. Too tired and wasted after spending days that are consuming all my energy. 

So much action and happenings and events taking place, imn hardly able to catch my breath. Nightmares too, my mind is weary, my body too, my body especially. 

It doesn't matter what I write, as long as I keep at it. Or does it? 

Anyway, here goes...


Wednesday, March 24, 2021

Mother, on the drum

I got up at around 4:00 in the morning, heart was racing. I had a very intense dream and it woke me up. I saw my mother, and it was a very vivid and lively dream. Though I can't recall all of it, but one thing stuck with me was that "scene" where she was on a screen, as if we are having a video call with her. She looked so happy, wearing bright colors and her background was very lively too. She was doing a beat on the djembe, and calling out Yasmina Yasmina. The sound was similar to the that of Msa7arati calling for prayers and sohour in Ramdan. 

I couldn't go back to sleep for a couple of hours afterwards, my mind was racing. I have busying myself with thoughts about spirits, the psyche, our existence, this very life...

I have given up thinking of the topic a while back, coming to a personal conclusion, for the time being anyway, that there isn't much to this world outside of what we see and do. 

Back to mother, I suppose I was happy to see her, even for the briefest of moments, even if the dream was interrupted, even if it didn't make much sense.


Monday, March 22, 2021

a wish

I'm ready for the next level of this distopia. I'm ready and I'd love for something disastrous to take place again, this time around swallowing me physically, deep inside earth, or exploding me into thin air.

I'm beyond sad and depressed... 

Friday, March 19, 2021

Des-pair

I woke up this morning with an overbearing desire to be contained. The need to be contained once I became a grown up was never met, and so I stopped attuned to the luxury of such a need a long time ago. Every now and then though the desire surfaces, I allow myself to lament in the emotion for a while, until I curb it again. My ways are not very orthodox, I am an emotional eater after all. I have been overeating my way through this most nerving year of the so called pandemic. This morning was a typical morning in that sense, despite my successful attempts at eating clean this week. It's my father's birthday, and it's rather overwhelming how many special days there are in this month, it only just occurred to me. Father would have turned 79 today, but he will remain 57 always, and at times, younger too. 

Woman's Day on 8th 
Teacher's Day on 9th 
Father's birthday on 19th 
Mothers Day and equinox on 21st. 
Many friends too... 

I ordered knefe, eclairs, and shaabiyet, and I stuffed my face with them. Now I am feeling very low but a tingling sensation in my body is taking place, sugar rush, everything rush, and it feels good. This here is my drug, and perhaps I am attempting to get away from it by adding other substances, smoking and coffee and alcohol. Nothing seems to work though, nothing is working on my body and system like food does. 

This week in particular I am experiencing some sort of despair, I am often finding myself wasting time, and contemplating the nothing and everything, for no purpose and without aim whatsoever. Needless to say, I was not productive.

I am tired from having to be strong and carry on as if things are OK so that I don't freeze, when things are beyond bad. I wrote several different paragraphs yesterday, only to delete them, because I simply wasn't able to write coherently. 

I suppose I am doing the same again now, I will post anyway, and retire to the living room, and binge watch the hell out of shows, to take my mind away from this present moment... 

Happy birthday Father, I miss you every day! 

Wednesday, March 17, 2021

Longing

It's painful waking up to the reality of this country every new day. Yesterday was a very hard day to swallow. It is as though we are kids locked inside a house with abusive parents, with no escape, and our cries goes by unheard. 

The Lebanese currency has hit another new record low, and things keep getting worse and worse by the day, and sometimes the hour. Nobody and nothing is ever stopping the damage, or at least slowing the pace. As a lone parent of an adolescent, I am feeling very insecure and unsafe. If things can get that bad, that fast, with no objection whatsoever, then I wonder just how much more bad there is in store for us the Lebanese. 

I've never felt any belonging to this country, and it never mattered because it was never made to be home for anyone. Such a cold, cold, and very sad land!

We're closing a cycle this week, I remember vividly the events of last March, and the days leading up to the most apocalyptical day in my adult life, the spring equinox, March 21st. I went out with Yas for a walk, and the streets were scarily empty and devoid from any sign of life. We picked wild flowers from the bushes on the side of the roads, we marveled at the grey skies, and we returned home to put our flowers in vases and enjoy a mother's day celebration like no other.

It wouldn't be so accurate if I say I am depressed, because these unprecedented days are exceptional on our mental health and nervous system. It is fair to say, however, that I am feeling very low, so low and weak. I've fought so many battles in my life on the personal level, and I pushed even harder in 2019, so that I could lead a somewhat stable, more peaceful life in 2020. 

The irony of this existence is wearing off, I now need more so than ever before to be united with and consumed by which and whom I am passionate about. A soulless existence on this land could leave me sane for only a short while. 


“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.”
Louise Erdrich - The Painted Drum.

Monday, March 15, 2021

Get me out of here!

It's a difficult day, in the sense that I wasn't able to think or function properly. I attempted working several times with no luck. Same with writing. I ended up watching a couple of episodes of Vikings, and here I am again in my work space, hope to be able to catch up on anything at all before I retire to my bed. I slept a lot today and I wish to sleep some more. I felt so overwhelmed like I haven't in a while, and I gave it some reflection, it occurred to me that it's due to the socializing lately, it's been a busy weekend. This has always been the case with me, but in the days of corona and social distancing / lockdowns and curfews, I'm experiencing those symptoms more so than ever before. 

Besides me lay a big notebook, I dug it a while ago from my special journals box. On the first page, there's the list of New Year's resolutions 2016. On the 3 following sheets, a draft of what my book should be about, and how it should be written. Plenty of notes and a pretty nice vision for a beautiful project that has always been inside me and grew with me. The period stretching from Autumn 2015 till Summer 2016 was spent in Beit Meri. I have some fond memories on our life there, but some bitter ones too.

The remainder of the notebook is blank, and is yet to be filled. 

My life seems to be like this, filled with notes and drafts, and projects dropped or postponed or interrupted. There's chaos in the way I am doing life, and a very thin line is separating what is being forced unto me, and what I am getting myself entrapped with. 


Saturday, March 13, 2021

Recharge, repeat

Yasmina slept over at her aunt's last night. She hasn't done so in a really long while. It's healthy for her to have special time with her aunty, a different adult, a different family member, different vibe, ways and everything. She has been struggling with my strict and rigid ways recently. Those are only meant to achieve, try to anyway, a sort of balance. Extremes call for extremes; her very laid back approach to studying is rather concerning at this stage. The unprecedented "online" classes are sure to frustrate the hell out of any adolescent in the time of blossoming, they're been imprisoned inside their houses, with more screen time, and very little room for self expression and true learning. Still, she needs to upgrade her ways to adjust and catch up. She is well behind, and the scholar year is nearing the end. Only two years away from joining college, things are getting real. So much time wasted already, and in my opinion, there simply is no more time for passiveness and allowing things to take their course. Though she differs with me about this, but I stand my grounds! I often tell  her I am simply doing my job as her mother when she feels things are getting personal. I don't choose to be this or that way, if it comes to me, I really would rather just to live and let live, be left alone to my own shenanigans really, but this is my duty towards her. There isn't much more years of this, soon enough she would be held accountable for all her actions. While I am still involved in her life, I with to give it my all, and this does mean that she starts to resent me at this stage, and I have made peace with that too. 

It's a peaceful and quite morning, though cat got lonely, she usually sleeps in Yasmina's room and spends the mornings with her. She meowed and meowed at my door early in the morning, I had to let her in. Some cuddles under the covers did the trick, but she soon after got hyper, and I had to let her out again. This is all still very new to us. We, getting to learn about cats in general, and her in particular, and I suppose her, getting to learn about us, her new home, the boundaries and the potentials of fun and comfort she could get. She's not a kitten at 8 months old, but not an adult cat either. I am hoping by summertime we would have formed some strong bonds and new healthy routines for us all to enjoy each other and this life together.

I am planning on making the best out of my weekend, take things easy, nurture my mind, body and soul. Come next week, I have to implement new routines at work. I will have to manage both creativity and productivity. Creativity mostly needed for my personal Ardh124 jewelry content, and productivity for the business Calligraphics Jewelry. I am well aware I would need to delegate tasks for the business eventually to allow for proper growth, but I am unable to do so at this stage still. Teaching somebody all the things I currently do and manage will take so much time and effort that I always end up preferring doing the things myself. Perhaps it's something to look into for next year, if possible at all. For now, I have to keep doing my thing, stick with whatever works, and improve on things wherever possible, little step at a time. It's more or less how I always managed, minus the new regular, usual setbacks of recent.

I've managed to curb some of my cravings this week, and slow the pace of eating / snacking / binging to some extent. I will need to gradually too be more disciplined with that in the coming weeks, in the hope of reaching a very good new routine come April. 

I started a new book yesterday, it's nothing too special, called Memoirs of a Dervish, just managed to get it amongst other second hand books from one of the Lebanese groups on Facebook. I haven't yet managed to get adjusted to the new prices of things, particularly books. A typical 17$  - 23$ book now is basically around 200.000 LBP!! That amount too used to be the total of my weekly shopping cart at the supermarket. These days, it hardly covers fruits and vegetables and a couple of chocolate bars. Dark chocolate now is such a luxury item. I remember this time last year I was talking to a friend about how apocalyptical things feel. A year later now things are even more so. Very Orwellian too, but, I shall do what I must; stay focused always, get centered often, and align with my plans and visions at all times. 

Detox, cleanse, recharge, repeat. 

On that note, I must stop the musing and get on with the day.