Category: Self Discovery


I have had a whirlwind of a last couple of months. Interviews, a new job, getting sued for medical bills I never denied payment for, and a car crash that left my car like so:

The hassle with the insurance companies and finding a new car and needing to pay a difference on the totaled vehicle and paying a citation that followed this horrific and traumatic event in my life was almost enough to make me wish I hadn’t survived. However, the day it happened, I started writing a poem (sort of) and later realized I was just getting frustrated with a system designed to make you give up and decide that life is no longer worth it. If my near death experience taught me anything, it is that there is very little in life that really matters. Everything else is just meaningless fluff.

I am so very grateful to my true friends – the ones who were there for me and stepped up to the plate to help out both me and my family. Being down to one vehicle with a very long commute to work in two opposite directions is zero fun. Thank you guys for being awesome. Thank you for helping me long enough for me to remember how not to be miserable again and to simply be grateful for all my blessings.

Without further ado, here is what I really came to say today:

If you asked me yesterday what I’d be doing today, I would not have said anything along the lines or what actually did happen. This is not how I planned for my Valentine’s day to go. 

Today, I almost died.
Today, I almost killed others with no intent.
Today, I realized in a moment of clarity, while spinning uncontrollably under an 18 wheeler that almost crushed me and being shot back across a miralculously empty for a few seconds high-speed four-lane highway to safety in the median, that I didn’t have any regrets while leaving this world.
Today, by all logic and probability, I should be dead.
Today, I feel so empowered to be alive, to be here still, to be a living voice in the drone of many voices.
Today, I am grateful to be able to write these words, to drink a hot chocolate, to enjoy my family and their love, to learn who my true friends are, and take joy from the antics of my cats.
Today, I am pleasantly surprised to know I have found people, who after a week of knowing me, would drive into danger to save me. And that a person I met once cared enough to send me a few words of comfort in my time of need.
Today, I know I’ve changed into someone I can hardly recognize and so much of the anguish I held inside has disappeared with the wreckage of my cursed car.
Today, my spirit is still restless and all is not well with my soul but I know I am not afraid of death or what comes after. Returning to God’s embrace does not bring this sinful soul a trace of terror, only a yearning to be in His presence.
Today, I know what Really matters to me in the chaos and corruption and suffering and negativity that has been ruling my social feed and fueling my passion for justice and equality.
Today, my heart confirmed that Love really is the cliched answer to so many hatreds but it is not a solution easily achieved. I still cannot bring myself to forgive those that have truly wronged my soul.
Today, I know I was saved by the will of God and in His Mercy He saved me; maybe someday I will be worthy of His miracle.
Today, I know that all things taken into account, GOOD still exists in the world, people can be wonderful, and God still cares.
Today, I am reborn.

I normally do not write political pieces out of fear that some Homeland security agent will decide I’m a threat to the country and make me disappear somewhere no one will ever find me again. In light of the current climate, however, I feel compelled to write about my experience of being an American Muslim female of Pakistani descent in a society that has branded everyone like me as a terrorist.

As an American, I am sad to say I am living through the kind of historic times I never thought I would have to live through. I have always been so proud of my country – the one that polices and guides the whole world, the one that has become the face of democracy, equality and freedom. I have always been so very secure in the knowledge that no matter what the rest of the world was like, I could always rely on my country to be the light in the dark, the world’s knight in shining armor, the army that stands between good and evil.

My pride and faith in this country have been shattered. My belief that America stood for ALL Americans is gone. My belief that the government is here to protect, serve and create order is gone. My hope that the children of tomorrow would grow up as free as possible of racial and religious prejudice has totally evaporated. This is definitely due to the fact that so many acts of terrorism have happened all around the world and have been performed by Islamic terrorists. But it is also because Western countries supplied that hate and the weapons to those terrorists in the first place.

Has anyone ever noticed how there is always more money for building weapons and walls and starting wars but never enough funding for medical care and educating the masses so that they actually understand the world better and can rise up against crooked politicians?

I have been on a roll with trying new things in the past few months. I have also touched base with the things I once loved to do and hadn’t done since my teens or childhood. But now, I am thinking of doing things that aren’t always shiny rainbows and happy unicorns. I am considering joining peaceful protests on the streets – the kind of thing I have never done. I am thinking about writing to my local representatives, senators, governor – all because I am enraged and terrified by the actions of the worst president the United States has ever known. I don’t care if you don’t share my opinion. This is going to continue to be my opinion as long as this man remains president of a country that wholeheartedly finds him absolutely repulsive in every way possible.

I am so very tired of people telling me it is going to be okay. I am tired of people telling me I don’t need to be afraid. I am tired of ‘alternative facts’ and men deciding what women can do with their bodies. I am tired of being profiled and degraded for my religion and the color of my skin. I am tired of being vilified by people who have never even known someone like me. I am tired of people who have never left their small town and seen anything beyond a few hundred miles of our country trying to control the millions of very different lives everyone across the world leads on the basis of their limited experience and willful ignorance.

I am tired of being treated  like a third class citizen because I wasn’t born with the ‘right’ skin color and the ‘right’ religion.

I am especially tired of being told to go back where I came from. How about all of you go back to Europe or Russia, too?

I am tired of domestic terrorism not being labelled as such – unless of course a Muslim person was involved.

A brand new mosque and a brand new, unopened Islamic center were burned down near me recently. To the ground. They took hundreds of thousand of dollars to build and years to make. But they were callously destroyed. Imagine if that happened to a church or synagogue – the world would be in an uproar about it. But mosques? No one cares. It’s not terrorism or a hate crime at all.

The western media doesn’t care about the ethnic cleansing of Burmese Muslims. Or the masses being wiped out in Arabic countries. Or the hundred of instances of terrorism committed against people in Muslim countries like Pakistan and Turkey by those same terrorists. No one in the Western world lifts a single finger against any of it. Nor do they acknowledge that their wars and greed for oil have incited much of these repercussions they now face or that Most of the people killed by terrorist attacks have been Muslims.

Do people think that Muslims just woke up one day and decided to be terrorists? Does no one ever wonder WHY they decided to kill themselves to incite terror and fear in others? Some of them are probably brainwashed and believe they are doing it in the way of God – they aren’t. Islam forbids this kind of evil. Most of them do these things either for the safety of their loved ones or out of hate for the people that never accepted them, always turned them away, looked down on them and treated them as lesser being because they were ‘savages’ – even though the western nations were the ones that invaded and made colonies everywhere. subjecting people to their whims and culminating in a massive slave trade as well as laying down the foundations for terrorist organizations, the effects of which we all continue to suffer from today.

Did slavery exist before all this? Most certainly. But was it so widely accepted and was it done on such a major scale? I don’t believe so. People still think they are so much better than others based on their skin tone. Why this is so, I don’t understand. We are all flesh and blood. We are all human beings who experience the same emotions and needs. Why anyone thinks they are superior to anyone else because of their skin tone is beyond me. Why anyone thinks their religion is superior to anyone else’s is beyond me too.

I still remember the Crusades and the Holocaust. Did the rest of the world forget?

Conquest and subjection of the losing populace are a repetition in human history that will never end. However, we no longer live in an age where you can make mountains of skulls and burn grand libraries to the ground and not have people rise up against you.

To those who think your race is what makes you superior, to those that think your faith is better than everyone else’s, to those that think your way of life is better than the rest of the world’s – NEWS FLASH: IT IS NOT. YOU ARE NO BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE. YOU ARE JUST AS SIGNIFICANT AND INSIGNICANT AS A BLADE OF GRASS IN A GIANT MEADOW.

To those that want to turn America in to the present day Nazi Germany, good luck. You will not win this war.

Forgive me for the rant, but I felt I would explode if I didn’t put my thoughts into words. In conclusion, the poem I wrote below explains my feelings most clearly:

American born
American raised
Proud not to be
Anti-any-race

Muslims banned
Mosques hazed
On what constitution
Is this based?

America – land of the free
Home of the brave
Why has fear
Become your face?

Good old days of
War, injustice, inequality
Will never return
For the crazed

This is democracy
This is freedom of speech
This is my country
Where my loyalty is based

I will not be silenced
I will not be controlled
I will rise above
The hatred in your soul

 

 

 

 

 

So far, we went to Rome, Assisi, Orvieto, Spello, Florence and Venice together. I suppose it’s now time to introduce to you Padua, Verona and Milano before concluding with Lake Como.

The largest piazza in Italy, Prato della Valle, is surprisingly located in Padua. Just a little ways from the piazza is the Basilica di Sant’Antonio di Padova which is just lovely and also houses a museum of its own.

After that early morning stroll, we ventured onwards and found ourselves in romantic Verona, home to the famous balcony of Juliet and her statue as well as the Arena and several very expensive designer stores all lined on one street. the people of Verona were the most fashion conscious Italians I met outside of Milan.

After a brief time in Verona, we continued to Milano and it’s incredibly different and modern buildings that are a direct result of Milan being bombed during World War II. However, the most recognizable and renowned location in Milan, il Duomo, did not disappoint with its centuries old majesty. The Galleria adjacent to Il Duomo was quite simply one of the most complete collection of exclusive and extremely pricey designers under one figurative roof. Even famous car companies had shops at the Galleria. Behind the Galleria was the famous Opera House and housed in the Galleria is the one artwork I did not get to see – Leonardo’s Last Supper. I wasn’t aware that the tickets had to be bought far in advance and hence did not book myself one. Hopefully, some day I can return to see that historic painting as well.

That regret aside, Milan did not disappoint in its extravagant offerings. It quite reminded me of NYC, just a little less insanely busy. My favorite thing, however, were the roasted nuts being sold by snack carts all over Milan – they were absolutely delicious!

Our activities for the night came to an end after dark and most people returned to the hotel. I returned later that evening to explore the Duomo and visit with a friend. It was perfect.

The next day it rained from morning till night and into my last day in Italy. Unfortunately, it was that day that we had Lake Como on our schedule. I imagine it must be even more amazing during summer, or when it is not raining as it was the entire time we were in the area.

We traveled by bus to the city of Menaggio. From there, we took a boat across Lake Como to Bellagio. We didn’t go to Como itself which was a shame – a friend informed me there was a cheese and chocolate festival at Como that day. However, just exploring Bellagio itself turned out to be great fun for me and though it was raining I still got some beautiful pictures of a place straight out of a fairy tale.

We returned to Milan after those stunning vistas to enjoy another excellent dinner and say our goodbyes. I left Italy the next day. It became an extremely fulfilling and uplifting memory for me.

The beauty of this world and the human mind’s capability to imagine and adapt is endless. Everywhere we went, we encountered warm-hearted, kind and helpful people. I didn’t have a single negative experience with any Italian person. My tour group afforded me a few new good friends and allowed me to meet some kindred spirits.

Italy itself gave me a sense of endlessness. The civilizations repeatedly upended, the many stories associated with every cobblestone, the many different belief systems that came and went, and the astounding art that people created surrounded by the natural beauty of creation – it was a package that is still making me smile with a joyous soul.

There is nothing quite like getting more than you bargained for, especially if it is a pleasant surprise. Italy was much, much more than I had imagined and I didn’t even see all of it. Pisa and Naples were sorely missed. However, everywhere I went, I saw one thing every Italian had in common – a pride in their people and in their heritage, as well as very, very big hearts. I’m sure others have experienced different but I am simply sharing what I experienced.

If I were to live away from the States, Italy is where I would want to create a new home. If you can go, please do visit Italy. It is worth every penny.

For staying with me until the end of my journey, grazie! And because this journey has come to its end, Ciao!

May 2017 bring you many pleasant surprises!

Hey y’all, I know I said my next post would involve a boot, but I’m postponing that for later. I have something I just have to say here right now, today.

Have you ever Known you are loved, cherished and thought of often only to also feel like you’re never good enough and people simply tolerate you because they are kind? I’ve been feeling that way a lot lately. I’m frankly jealous of the people I see together with their friends and just genuinely close to each other with no walls up between them. I miss feeling that way. I miss exchanging a single glance with someone and having them understand everything that just went through my head. 

I miss feeling like I had my own person.

It isn’t that my friends don’t support me or appreciate me. It isn’t that they don’t care about me. It isn’t even that they don’t make time for me. But I simply never feel like I belong or like I’m wanted. This isn’t their fault. I know it’s somehow me being messed up inside causing this view. but somehow I can’t help it.

Something inside feels so broken lately. I think it’s because I feel less than worthy of anyone’s attention. I feel like I am a burden or a bore or both to the ones I love and want to be around. This feeling is slowly crushing all the joy I have built up in my heart this year.

I really hope that all of you out there feel cherished and loved and know you are amazing in so many ways. God bless.

A strong woman, they say
Forged in the fires of pain
Feeling the salt and blood of rivers
Flowing down the cracks in her skin
Through the warmth that keeps
Her living, slowly becoming her veins

A strong woman, they call her
As she picks herself up again and again
You, and you, and you, and you –
You who were supposed to be
Her brother, her lover, her protector, friend
Turned into the very vultures that
Attacked her even as she writhed in pain

A strong woman, they labeled me
This tired, brittle bag of bones
With each day, it becomes harder
Each trial making me more alone
I did all I imagined possible
But it was never enough to ensure
That I would never have to be strong enough
To weather all, steady as stone

A strong woman, I’m told
Is one like me, racing through
Typhoons, tidal waves, earthquakes
Even the deep dark of a black hole
As if nothing is of consequence
Like no matter how many meteorites strike me
I will simply go on, perfectly whole

A strong woman, I may have become
But with every step, every fall
My soul shattered into jagged glass
My feet slippery from bleeding with
Cuts made each time I broke
And break I did, losing another piece of me
Every time I had to forge myself anew

This strong, independent woman
Was wrung through every pain the world
Could imagine, first taking her innocence
Then her dignity, clipping her wings
To cage her when she would have flown
Slowly corrupting even her smile
Until all that remained was a shell

This strong woman became a hollow husk
A puppet on a string manipulated
By you, her protectors in name
But in truth, you were her jailers
The ones forever claiming you knew
What she could and could not do

This woman, before she was strong
Was in apathetic darkness years long
Eventually, she realized she would die
If she remained caged, unable to fly
So she broke free of her shackles
Finally roaring with rage
Daring the world to challenge
Her right to live, never again enslaved

This strong woman, she made
So many choices, both right and wrong
But she learned her own mind
She learned to stand strong
Believing she could shape her own life
Whether or not she ever came to belong

This strong woman slowly changed
From a girl into a woman older than her age
Along the way, she lost many people
She broke her heart, she failed her dreams
Some people abandoned her, some used her
But with every scar, she learned to go on

This strong woman, she survived
The rush of agony each time
Life taught, terrorized, traumatized
Each time, the dark rose to take over
She learned a new depth of light inside
Growing stronger with every passing night

This strong woman, who knew love once
Came to know betrayal
Came to know abandonment
Learned she could always fail
With every instance she chose perseverance
Her desire to Live grew stronger, she prevailed

A strong woman can never be weak
Even as you choke the life blood from her
No tear will fall from her eyes
No sign of pain will show through her mask
She will only scream silently, praying for help
She never gets an answer that
She didn’t have to create for herself

A strong woman should never be lonely
That is the mantra she repeats to herself
Every time she sees someone happy, whole
She wonders who her happiness stole
She became so strong that the weak majority
Became afraid and intimidated
Now she walks alone because
No one of equal strength walks nearby

A strong woman they call me
As if it was so easy to become me
As if I didn’t have to struggle down
Every path I chose for myself
As if every scar didn’t tell another
Festering, heartbreaking story
As if, somehow, this title I have earned
Were just a casual note in a Symphony

This strong woman, every time she starts anew
Digging out a new path, carving a new trail
Becomes a little stronger with each drop of pain
Becomes harder with every scorching flame
The pressure of hardship and expectations
Slowly turning her into a diamond untamed

In the land of Dreams, it seems that you have once again become the source of all my glee. Everything I remember about you that was good rolled together in one scene, like when you and I once seemed to fit together so well. In the dreams, we make each other laugh and feel joy in once another, even though time has moved forward and you have not. Even in these dreams, you never chase me or reach out to me first. In fact, you just smile and laigh happily because I complain to you that you don’t but somehow, I still don’t let you go and we are happy…somehow. When I wake up, I feel fluffy like I’m on a cloud and everything is good in life. And then, I remember you as you really are. I remember you the way you were at the end and I feel as though I betray myself every time I dream of you. I feel as though the only way I’m at peace is if I’m at peace with you but that will never happen again, not in the waking dream that I call life. Will you never let me feel peace again?

You were only a dream, one that lasted until it burst in the bubble we had created around us, carefully not allowing reality to intrude upon us. Had you stayed true and never burst that bubble with the heartless cruelty only you know how to inflict upon my soul, I would have stayed true to that dream, to my love of you. Yet you couldn’t even manage that. You couldn’t stay by me. Or rather you wouldn’t. I wasn’t good enough or you weren’t. It was the perfect catch 22 between two incredibly different and highly imperfect people. There was no end but The End.

Why doesn’t my dream self remember the soul shattering pain you caused when you betrayed everything she stood for and had fought so hard for? Why doesn’t she recall how callously you abandoned me once you had no more use for me? Or how your family and you never once turned back to even speak to me after that? Why doesn’t she remember the anguish you caused her, her family, and her friends? How does she forget how easily you threw away a relationship that could overcome anything, anything but the betrayal of your heart, or how it makes her wonder if you were ever true at all?

Come to me in my dreams no more. Abandon me in that land, too, as you once did before. Even my dreams warned me against you, but like the fool that I was, I paid no heed. I have paid for that willful ignorance in full.

I wish no more to remember you or anything of you. I wish no more to find you once again, to have you beg and apologize and do anything to get me back. I wish no more to walk with you in life, I could never trust the fear of your own failures that seems to guide your every action. I wish, most of all, to make you disappear from the parts of me that feel happy at the thought of you. I hate that the you in my dreams makes me so utterly overjoyed and at peace. That the only time I wake feeling so peaceful is after a happy dream of you. I hate you. You hurt me more than I knew was possible.

Reality sometimes seems cruel, but not so in this instance. Reality is a necessary reminder that dreams only last so long. Eventually, they disappear into nothingness if they are not treasured and nurtured with care by everyone involved. Even a small crack in the bubble can lead to the deterioration of all hopes and dreams in the bubble. All that is left behind is devastation and, for the survivors, the inevitability of the passage of time. All the strong have left to them is the absolute determination to go on and never give up.

I am not the strongest or bravest or smartest. But I am, and always have been, a survivor. Being a survivor has left me with no other choice but to grow, to become braver, smarter, stronger, more. I am not who I was just a few months ago and I will never be her again. I am glad I am who I am in this moment. I will not succumb to the empty bliss of ignorance. The past is full of lessons both learned and not. The future is full of experiences I cannot even imagine today. The present is my only concern because this is where I build everything I am going to be and verify all that I am today. That is enough.

My language is no longer the language of dreams. It is the language of love. I speak no more the language of sorrow. I speak only the language of life. I no longer long for abstract ideals. I strive only to achieve my goals. My heart no longer seeks to find someone to complete me. It knows now that I complete myself. I am the one writing the story of my life.

My language is no longer the language of despair. My heart brims with the confidence of experience. This too shall pass, it tells me. This too is a lesson learned, it reminds me. My love is no longer an ocean of unpredictability. It has become a fire that warms and feeds the soul but would burn anyone that approaches with ill intent whole. My dreams no longer teach me the path to go down because I ran out of dreams to dream. None of them were worth trying again and again after failing once or twice. Nothing compelled me to keep trying. Nothing inspired me to keep going. Now, I walk down all the paths before me, picking with care, yet picking with ease all the choices placed before me.

The choices I face no longer cause me heart ache, no longer make me uneasy. I have faith in my fate, whatever it may be. The Universe speaks to me for me no more, but my purpose is as of now unfulfilled. I have learned my greatest reason for existing is to be the catalyst for others to fulfill their dreams. Whether I am yhe villain that causes them to change or the friend that shows them what they were unable or unwilling to see, for the ones my life touches, a catalyst is all I will ever be. I am not meant to be the main character in the story, just the necessary supporting role without which their stories would not go where they are meant to.

I have had many lives before and lived them thoroughly. This one last chance I have been given will allow me to push people into places they never dreamed they would go and be the ladder they climb to greater hieghts. I was born again to be a tool both of destruction and of healing. I was born to enable greatness in others and destroy the evil I come across. I wasn’t born to greatness myself.

Accepting that has been the greatest struggle for my soul. I have always yearned for greatness of some kind in myself. It is just not to be. Hence, I no longer speak the language of pointless ambition. Instead, I have begun to learn the language of love anew. Loving the happiness of others and being prouder of their accomplishments than they are, trying my best to be the strength they need even as I burn them with my acidic tongue, I am striving to be as humble as I can for it is not my role to shine in this world any longer.

As I learn this new language, I am learning to love this amazing world full of contradiction and chaos all over again. The beauty I could not see is evident in my eyes once more. The peace I could not feel sometimes pays me a visit. The pain I thought myself numb to rears its ugly head occasionally but it doesn’t drown me in sorrow very often. Through it all, I continue to live, to breathe, to survive and to seek the next person for whom I may become a catalyst for greatness. Walking down this monotonous and often lonely road is not the only choice left to me but I think it is the right one. The right choices are usually the more difficult ones but they are worth every second of pain. Until I outlive my usefulness, I will continue down this path that has chosen me despite my many failings.

I am endeavoring to learn anew the wonders of the world, to travel to new places and meet new people, to broaden my horizons and learn new languages, to become more than I am. I am learning to love myself. It is like being born again and carries with it all the fear and anxieties of birth, along with the endless possibilities. I must become the Phoenix that rises from the flames of burned bridges and build new roads for me and those that will cross my path. Slowly, I must be born again.

Thank you for joining me on my road to self discovery!