lonely

Ramadan For Bad Muslims – #OutcastMuslims

Go ahead and drink that sip of wine at your friend’s wedding.

Go ahead and have that convenient boyfriend.

Sure you can taste that pork belly- you always wanted to try it.

Hide the fact that you don’t fast from your family by keeping snacks in your room.

Why don’t you drink all that water and soda throughout the day- it IS summer.

Don’t you dare pray. It messes with your work and school schedule.

Divulge in sexual play. Why should you be prohibited to express what is natural?

Don’t go to the mosque. You are pretty sure the tight cliques still don’t notice your existence.

Ablution? More like a baby wipe bath in case you sweat too much after the gym.

Wear that skimpy outfit. You know it is only for self-esteem and breathable fabric on your skin.

 

You know the importance of Ramadan. You can see how it humbles people. You see how your family reacts to it. Work, food and people. Important things. Yet religion should help your world, but it does not quite fit in. You don’t see the importance of Islam in all the other 11 months throughout the year. You are not lucky enough to be a part of it due to constant alienation as a child. Your parents argue more and you don’t see a point in their marriage of verbal and physical abuse. Those 11 months have taught you that your family only picks and chooses the bad aspects the religion that gave you a negative opinion. YOU ARE AWARE of the benefits to a great home life with Islam. You have seen it done right at your friend’s house. However, the psychological issues of those close to you, are never going to be fixed. They truly believe that the religion is working for them, when in fact, they hide behind it in order to make it convenient to them, like children.

Parents are the gateway to opening social doors for you when you are young, especially in religion. They did not encourage our mingling with the other Muslim kids, because they were too overprotective. So I was an outcast. No one to have something in common with and no one to be friends with. So I found my own group of friends, happened to only be Christian friends, who will never know me in that respect. They did not understand and never will. I started to question what having a religion was if people from their church got them jobs, social understanding, connections, activities and any other help imaginable. I felt that it was unfair. It felt like I had no “community” in my life where people just wanted to help you without judgement. I was always on my own and confused in this respect.

The older I got, the more distant I got. The first thing to go was prayer. The next, Ramadan. The last, certain morals and values that only Muslims followed.

The feeling of feeling lost, will never go away. You feel like you are a betrayer to something that you have always known to be the truth. The truth became something you are not going to face. You become lost because you still entirely believe in God but the people have failed you.

You feel like no one will ever truly know your struggle. You feel like no one will every help you get back the important thing you once had. You feel like you don’t see the purpose of someone helping you to do so. You feel alone. You can’t speak up because Islamic hate comes from Muslims and non-Muslims alike. You tell them what you did and the non-Muslims cheer you on, but they will never relate. You tell them what happened and the Muslims will judge you and think you are a sinner. There is no help.

It is a special case of hate. It is a special case of outcast.

You just always feel alone.

Was this a choice?

Who knows…?

 

 

P.S. There is always this present hate. I hope that this special hate won’t be transferred to others reading this post. This is a post is about feeling lost, not to condemn religion. I would love to see solutions to my special case instead of hate.

 

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Two-Weeks Notice & Life Lessons

I submitted my two weeks today for my second job.

I gathered myself and said that being unhappy was not gonna fly in 2018.

This year will be about self-healing. I cannot heal if I am unhappy every day.

I have proven that I am willing to change. But I know that I am no where NEAR where I need to be.

Where do I need to be? There is a willingness inside of me that has turned to stone over many many years. I need to chip away at the stone and find out all my potential.

I keep going back to the same place in my mind and I need to not go back anymore. I have always struggled with moving on. I keep finding myself living in the emotions of the past. The habit of the past. Not preventing them in any way. Not growing.

One of the things I learned in life is that if you don’t speak up, bad things will happen. If you don’t accept that government employees at the DMV have the right to be bad at their jobs and totally disrespect you, then it is okay to make a scene. I got what I needed that day despite their incompetence. If you see a baby lost and circling the front of a store, then it is okay to step in and take the kid to the front desk. If you forget a charge you made on a credit card or could have sworn that it was paid, then you can call up the company and have it fixed. If the car shop owner hangs up on you when you ask for the third time about a service that he was supposed to provide, but forgot, then it is okay to explore other avenues and get what you need done. That is knowing when the battle is over, but did not lose anything in the process.

Endless paperwork. Long days of a job that gives you exhaustion. Co-workers that don’t align to your standards of basic human concern. Friends that don’t ask about your life even though you were in their presence for two hours. New diet involving no carbs or sugar. New symptoms of a skin rash or a new color emerging on your body.

There will always be something. You just have to speak up.

It was against my nature because I was trained to observe and not react. The current people around me don’t care about success, but they always complain about not having money. I don’t see any personal success in anyone other than a select few. I like knowing that those who strive for more in a positive way are around me. But those who complain, don’t do anything about anything and are constantly negative will be around me for a while.

I got off topic. Not having this job is scary financially. But it can also be an opportunity. Writing. Exercise. Cooking. Those are my topic choices for the three-four hours of free time each day.

I want to live somewhere cold in the winter. I have decided this. Last time, I came back because I missed one of my friends. Now, I have a significant other to think about as well. But if I have to spend the summer boiling, that will make me unhappy. Watching TV and not doing anything else will make me unhappy. I would rather be the one to experience great things rather than watch someone on TV do it. I have seem different Travel Channel hosts travel to the same place, but I, myself have never gone.

I am trying. I know I have commentaries about people, but it all comes down to loneliness. I feel alone in my thoughts and ideas. There aren’t many people who want to be ambitious around me. There are no people who say, “Can I join you? I will do whatever it takes.” But instead there are people who say, “I can never do that! It’s not my thing.” I have dealt with this a lot. So much to the point where I give in and do what everyone else is doing.

I will try to treasure those who give a crap about me. Sometimes I give too much attention to those who don’t and I just hate life. I can’t help it. I will say that as you get older, that you care less about what other people think. Manoj Bhargava said it best when he said that he didn’t think anyone was doing anything right. People can only tell you the mistakes to be made but there really no formula to success. You watch people on Shark Tank only to see that the high tech product that they spent four-times their life-savings on is horrible. I want to apply this to other parts of my life as well. One of the reasons why Psychology didn’t work out for me was the fact that there were people who you had to depend on for their emotions, money, accolades, respect. (The research field) And I know that if I see people who have made poor choices over and over again, that I would get depressed quickly. (The clinical field) There is skill involved for both, but the patience or butt-kissing would be too much. Something that I could not do. AND YET I tell myself, that I should still pursue it. JUST BECAUSE I hold a degree in it. I am confused.

Money is something I hate. School is too much. I would like to go back to school but I am scared about being as unmotivated and a bad procrastinator as last time. There was no vision. I was following the pack. The weakest link on several occasions. I don’t even want to go back to UCLA because I did myself a great injustice there. I am literally still paying the price.

I am trying to work up the courage to go back again. ONLY ONE person has ever taken interest in this. When I told her an idea I had, unbeknownst to me, she researched it and gave me a print out to help me. I was so touched. There has been encouragement to stick to my Keto diet, but there has been no encouragement to my future. There have only been, “You should go back if you want a better job,” with no sense of direction. Now that I see this, it sounds like I just want someone to do the work for me. But in truth, I just want someone to be interested.

Never trust a guidance counselor. They are not interested in you.

From what I learned, you just gotta hustle. You gotta get your head in and call people out. You have to ask a million questions to get the right responses from people. Some people change their minds midway or you simply cannot trust what they have to say. I cannot tell you the unimaginable pain it is to be on the phone and they have to redirect you so much that they redirect you back to the first person you talked to. That is an example of a modern-day battle. You gotta grow courage and get some balls. People don’t care about you, because they care about themselves first. The government won’t tell you about special programs that can help you because they don’t want you to use them. That’s life.

How messed up is that?

Anyway, I am gonna do it. I am gonna apply to school again I am going back to community college, I decided. I am gonna try this computer science thing that I wanted to do 10 years ago.

I can do it.

Falling into the Crevasse

“The Hardest Rock In The World To Find…”

A weight has been lingering above me for a while now. The weight of comfort and mind-numbing stupidity. It seems to have gotten worse since I’ve moved back to California. I have no discernible skills. Even my smile is different somehow. Less frequent. I want and want and want. I assume and predict and plan… Nothing is working out. I am getting older and leaving less room for growth. It’s enough to talk the talk, but walking the walk is unbearable. Everything is unbearable. It has always been a chore to do anything. The way I see the world has set me back on multiple occasions. It’s like that feeling you get when you try something you have always had severe reservations about only find out that you really like it or are just starting to understand it. That is what I mean.

I’ve just learned a lot about myself… Most importantly, I am kind of a loner. I try to force myself not to be, but it just doesn’t work out. What happens to the loners who want to be social? Nothing good apparently. You just confuse yourself with trying to please and be likable with the basic elements of friendship. I wonder a lot about how I am supposed to act or empathize with different people. I can’t be someone I am not. The person I am is silent, crude and kind of a slob who cannot empathize without wanting to run away from the beginning of a sad story. That said, I am also a runner. Not so much literally so much as figuratively. I run away from my problems. I like to disappear without a trace. I don’t like people knowing where I am. It’s a closed off kind of world for me.

People learn about themselves around high school and college. They are explorers: they meet different people, try new things, have romantic relationships, aren’t so tired to do anything risky. In another life, I would have been one of these people. I know that I have the ability to be one of these normal people. Normal. Such a word I have been trying to achieve all my life. There is no normal. Only abnormal.

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.  From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked.  One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out.  I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose.  I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.  ~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter 7

One of the parts from Master of None that stuck with me was when Aziz Ansari’s character read this quote from Silvia Plath. Having read this book quite recently, I almost forgot that this is one of the major parts of Esther Greenwood’s life that I really felt like we had in common. Instead of figs, I just imagined getting older and mind-numbingly more stupid to be able to do the things I wanted.

So what are my paths? How do I find the “hardest rock?” (A metaphor for stability and success that I am trying to tie into this blog post. Is it working?) How do I go on from here? Do I just accept that mistakes cannot be avoided? Do I just accept that I cannot be the smartest person in class? Do I just accept that there is no way for someone I like to just look at me and ask me out? Do I just accept that there is no way to be religious and successful at the same time? Do I just accept that the weight will never come off easily? Do I just accept that people might not always be there for me? Do I just accept that there are many people who want to take advantage of me? Do I just accept that love is sometimes conditional and fleeting? Do I just accept that I might never have free time ever again if I decide to commit to something? Do I just accept that people are mostly shallow? Do I just accept that I have to be selfish and mean sometimes if I want to get the things that I want? Do I just accept that I might need to stay on medication for the rest of my life? Do I just accept that I never should be able to change my mind once I have committed to something? Do I just accept that I will never be a millionaire? Do I just accept that jealousy is inevitable even to the best of us? Do I just accept that the people I love will leave my life someday? Do I just accept that I will be alone in a world filled with people who are together? Do I just accept that accepting others can only be done once I accept myself? Do I just accept that I can never be pretty once I pass a certain stage in my life? Do I just accept that I can never say, “I’ll do it tomorrow?” Do I just accept that I can never blame my parents? Do I just accept that I might never get to travel the world? Do I just accept that people will just not like me for no reason? Do I just accept that there is nothing wrong with me? Do I just accept that I might not be able to do everything that I have always wanted to do?Do I just accept that I can never hide away from the pain of living life?

Yes.

The World Beyond the Wooden Gate

She leaned against her backyard fence. She could hear the neighborhood kids laugh by on their bikes up and down the curvy street she lived on. Sometimes, she spied on them through the slits in the wooden fence. So happy with one another. Yelling, screaming and laughing as kids usually do. Her happy place was on the other side of the fence. Near the giant plastic garbage bins and air conditioning unit. There was also a giant, black satellite pole that stuck out of the ground near the door to the garage that she measured her height on as years went by. A couple of lines of green paint still there. She was almost the same size as she had started this tradition near her only and last growth spurt. It was only a sliver of concrete that she liked to stand along. She thought of her hopes, dreams, bad days and realities. Her imagination took her everywhere. One day she would recite presidential speeches on how the world could be better. The next day, she could look up to the sky and see herself being picked up by a steam punk zeppelin where she started adventures with her new crew of characters. Another time she would try singing into a tape recorder to see if her voice was as pretty as the words she sang. Other days were not so creative, but no less active. She would strap in her roller blades and turn around the satellite pole until she could spin the most times without being dizzy. She played handball by herself against the side wall until it was dark. And then there were times where she just sat and cried because she knew that no one could see or hear her. Bad days were rare, but they still happened. It was her space outside of her space. As far as she could get away from home while still being home. But when the children she didn’t know would pass by her space, she would always go quiet. She wanted to listen to them. Wonder what it was like to have freedom on the other side of that wooden gate. What it was like to interact with people who weren’t imaginary and set in her creation. She wondered what it had all meant for her. At any moment she knew that she could just open the latch and watch them play. She might ask if she could join them or perhaps look sad enough for them to ask her. (Although the latter never worked for her in ANY situation) She wished she could just watch them. Like a television show that was outside. People-watching. Her imagination grew more hungry for a real companion to her stories and lonely activities. Someone to console her or laugh with her. With a whole other world out there, perhaps just one person can come into hers.

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