My life… and it’s verge of existence

Life throws us into its broad horizons. Sometimes we realize it. Sometimes we ask for it. Sometimes we don’t’ even know…

And quite often, it takes us by surprise.

I don’t know what is happening yet … but something is happening. Something about my entire being. Something related to my unanswered questions and desires that I still don’t comprehend and accurately grasps and maybe realize.

I feel carried away. Like throwing yourself in a dance, you have to trust the beats and your counterpart and let go.

Letting go is what terrifies me, maybe…

Each time I try to find a beat to my life that I want to accommodate, something else comes up. Turning everything upside down.

My life was manifested with an absolute under-control harmony when I decided to turn it all upside down and leave the marriage. It was a harmony in an orchestrated symphony that required years of preparation and adaptation …to become manageable and under control… exciting. …Thrilling …horrific….

When I decided to leave that house, something fell on me—some power with a huge, immense light. I was taken away. I didn’t think about it back for years because thinking back would only make me weaker. Realizing I was all alone. I was watching the world around me, and I was held up. My feet were not on the ground. The whole mess under me. The threats. The trouble. The miseries. The disasters… I was looking around in an overwhelmed manner, and I was probably numb.

I remember a dear friend of mine asking me what that active drug I was taking was. A drug that makes me numb, less caring, and so much capable of surviving it all.

I was drugged-like. Everything was burning literally around me …

I didn’t have an option except to survive. I was like inside a narrow tunnel with the limited size of the movement. The only thing I knew was that there must be an exit as long as I was still breathing air inside it …

Ten years later….

Eleven…

That round figure of a number has some magical effect on me. I said I got divorced after thirteen years of marriage. They were not exactly thirteen. Almost. But I thought I wanted thirteen to be my lucky number. I prefer odd numbers. And thirteen is a breaking number of all odds.

I wanted ten years to pass on that divorce. I wanted to give me. I said it was ten when it was only nine. I am saying ten when it is probably eleven…

Ten, eleven … an odd number will not confirm a different situation in this case. Maybe my life is a different life.

Maybe I am an odd person. Trying to be normal…

Last year. The year before 2015 ended with a strange real horrific twist that took me by surprise. My life was going in one direction, and suddenly everything went against me. It was so much against my power. I was truly behaving. When you start working your life within the book. I was just adapting to the universe’s rules. I was driving myself into the safety of a career, of academia. I was enjoying the fulfilling exploration of research. I was suffocated in being tamed. I needed to be tamed, I told myself. I needed discipline. I needed to be like everyone else.

Suddenly. Thunders above me evolved. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t do anything to provoke. As if the whole universe. Its planets and stars, not only its people on earth, decided to unite against me. I entered a depression that made me even surrender. I was touching my vulnerability that I couldn’t see a decade before. Or I simply got older, and my immunity towards resilience weakened naturally.

Everything collapsed… my career that I was putting so much effort into working it hard. My studies. That finally showed me that I could study and work for a grade. My ex-husband declared a war of vicious rage. I broke up from the safety of an emotional relationship that was working well. I thought for years. I had a fight with my family that stayed for a long time, and it fractioned my emotions towards them into two. All Unchained. All broke down in shattering pieces… the only thing that remained was my children. Actually, they were never closer. My son came back, and I almost gave up on his return. My life could have been a total disaster. But the way my children surrounded me was magical. They all suddenly grew. And somehow, all that love I was nourishing them with came to me. It felt like living in a simple house with a modest garden with plants that flourish suddenly, and it becomes overwhelmingly blossoming and splendid.

They were always troublesome, mischievous, and hard to survive with their non-stop demand. They remained like this… but they were so full of love to me that it poured my heart and soul. It actually made me alive.

These children force me to feel like a goddess. As if I am sacred. They would do anything to just look into my eyes and see a smile… and then give me a mocking laugh and say: “ of … if you just didn’t have those black under eyes … and you were not gaining weight. Like sorry, mom… you are literally exploding. And we love your breasts… exactly like a water-filled balloon.” And run away.

They manage to boost my esteem all the time!!!!!

It was a decade of trying to prove to the world around me that I wasn’t the whore they thought I would become. That I wasn’t the loser, they predicted. I wasn’t the escapee. The starter and non-finisher. That I wasn’t evil. That I wasn’t stupid. That I didn’t have anything else in my mind but to survive. That I didn’t have any intention that was based on benefits and climbing. I spent a whole decade begging for acceptance from those who knew me most …

And it all came into a closed circle of no change. Failure.

Somehow that blink… between hopes and despair. That still left the ability to breathe from within the narrow, limited long tunnel. I insisted there must be light. Our instinct to survive is inspiring… as much as our letting go of life…

I was finding myself dragged into the hollowness of despair. I was just letting go. Giving up … accepting that the end is inevitable.

My kids… remained the only thing that dragged me back. And all those strangers who saw in me what the closest didn’t see…

Writing again…

When Nawal Sa’dawi told me: Marry writing. It is the only creative life you can have. Give creation yourself, and it will give you back… I was thinking. What does she know about what it means to struggle to feed a child… four children… four spoilt aristocratic, wealthy families of children? Writing fulfills my passion. My despair into hope… but not my unsettled mind struggles to survive a single mother with her children.

I always said that I would marry when my children get older. I never thought I would marry writing.

I am looking at myself and in another whirlpool of my spinning existence… a decade after. As if a gate was closed. A gate in Alice wonderland’s many wonders and the Alice in me are walking to a new horizon with a gate wide open. I don’t feel the tunnel anymore. As if I got out to a total new blankness. As if something has pulled me from the dungeons of that tunnel and popped me up into the horizon that the sky is its walking earth. The clouds are its beautiful meadows.

A totally new existence of an unknown that too deep inside me I aspired… a crazy encounter with a crazy woman. The horizon was unreachable. Non-existing to all… but to those like me who dwelled in a world that the word is its key. The sentence is his door. A book is its heavens.

I don’t understand anything in maths or physics. The only resemblance I have with Einstein is what my daughter Serena calls “ my mother is an Einstein with the pajamas… the only missing thing is the mustache.” …And of course, all but the basics in math that finish after the simple calculations. But what is happening to me is like is a cosmic physic equation. I have no idea what this means, of course. I also know that there is the cosmos and the planets, and something serious is happening there. And that dangerous thing splashed on me …

Something has been accumulating, as a dear friend of mine who is a mathematician says. What is happening is just a natural consequence of such an equation. It is like giving birth … something is coming out. Life … something that will not make your life the same as it was the moment before.

I could actually declare my madness at this point …

But something is happening …

Not necessarily right, of course.

Well. No one feels healthy when his job contract is being exterminated after almost a decade… less. That places were safety marked its presence. That shallow security that makes you survive the basics of survival…

As I am ending my intensive years of experience in this place, that marked a lot. It gave me a lot and took me a lot. Maybe I will look back at this experience the way I looked back at my marriage when I decided to leave. I left all but a letter that I wrote to him. It wasn’t a good farewell for a woman who wanted to get a divorce. It was a safety document to maintain his rage, probably. It was a letter soliciting in many ways compassion in him—a pledge to be a father. To call for that instinct to him… maybe Y Zeidan was right after all: fatherhood is a culture. I have to admit … I dealt with it this way for one simple reason. I have injected those feelings in him to a level where he actually believed he was a birth father… when I look at him now and see how unattached he is. He is in pain for the loss, not for the fatherly emotions. He cannot have had them by all means. But yes. It remains that the children’s need for a father is instinctive as much as that of their need for a mother.

I still cannot grasp anything of what is taking place…

I feel held away… risen. In the arms of the unknown…

It is the first time in my entire life that my fears are different … what I seek is different…

It is not safety that I want… it is not a man … it is not a car … a house… a job…. I practically have non-after a decade of spinning within me when it comes to this…

I have my children…

I really wanted them …

Not for me …

I wanted them for what I see today.

Free… independent … full of life.

This morning, as I dropped my youngest. The one that the strings of the umbilical cord didn’t really get closeout me yet made me come to this long yet another time blog… she told me that she dreamt something that made her cry in the hope. That she was entrancing to a social worker or a psychiatrist, she didn’t know. She was telling her about how difficult 2015 was. She told her about her father. She came to me, and she found that I was sleeping. I felt it, actually. I thought she was going to the toilet and return. Sometimes I believe that one of the valuable things I provided to them amid the whirlpool of the inconsistency of their lives was the safety of waking up at night and finding me there. It is that sense of security I wanted to prove e them. When I told them that I might be leaving my job last month, I may be jobless and more broke than I am. Yasmina looked at me and laughed: Oh, you won’t. They cannot kick you out. She was so confident that no one could threaten their safety zone that was already there.

Serena told me about her dream, and then she said: I think I will go to the school social worker today and ask for a session. I was about to tell her that I was there if she wanted to talk. I didn’t have to. She continued: I am not sure what is happening to me. I don’t have an appetite for food. I find myself wanting to stay alone. I keep stirring in the blank, just wanting to think. I said: it must be your hormones. I was thinking. Oh my god, I am getting old. I am talking to my daughter like a feminist activist in a support group. I continued: it is normal. It is good you want to speak to the social worker. Maybe you should write. She said: I just feel myself thinking of all the surroundings. Of me. Of life. I feel I need to look up to the sky and tell it all my thoughts and exchange with that blank up there.

She left the car…

I was thinking… how proud I am. This is what I wanted from life…

Such a free soul upbringing.

As I am being thrown into another unknown…

I am haunted by fear. A fear that maybe helped me in the last decade to survive. A fear that I was hiding behind as a safeguard from continuous stabbing and disappointments and failures. A fear that is so eligible … a fear that still prohibits me from looking back and getting it all out …

I always said I need a push that is so hard it has to be a giant inside me. God himself to reveal out for me so that I can believe in me. That I can leave that life can be rewarding after all. That there is a place up, there is a paradise on this earth.

I feel carried away… on another unknown … like those same moments f feelings I had when I decided to leave marriage… aspiring very deep inside me an unknown that is by all means no matter how hard, and painful and unbearable, remains better than the last know of that current time.

I am throwing myself in an unknown that is less fearful than a decade ago… as a natural consequence of the unknown. But deep inside me. The voice of Nawal reached the actual insides of me. She actually called out with her sharp non-mistaking voice: get out. Believe in yourself. Don’t allow anyone to break your confidence. Write. She said I was her real student … I could not be a student of Nawal Sa’dawi and allow fear to dwell within me for long…

I am carried away on the wings of life again …to an unknown that I am feeling. Not touching yet. But definitely breathing … a real breath I can feel with all my senses…

A breath a woman who could barely get a fresh breath for years can really know and feel the difference. The difference in the oppressed air that keeps you alive. And a fresh air that makes you live…

I don’t know where I am going from here… but I promise it won’t be boring. RIP David Bowie.