Thursday, October 16, 2008


Subhanallah! We always forget how great it is to be healthy, until we get sick.

I am sick. Been sick. Nobody ever realizes how sick I am. That's a real problem for those with high thresholds for life's challenges. Since the weekend, I've had a cold and kept going. I had to! Who else is going to be me and do my duties?

What sucks (like the hot lime with honey I'm drinking) is that I lost my voice the second half of yesterday's school day. LOST IT! Like....beyond Kathleen Turner in Jewel of the Nile into more of a Froggy from The Little Rascals. Allllll my co-workers joked with me that I've been yelling at my kids. Sigh...probably comes across that way. I got one offer of speech therapy from a parent and some tips for crowd control from Mr. Boo's babysitter. I actually do well with classroom management when I'm healthy...which I haven't been. Nobody knew just how sick I was except me.

The babysitter did give me a large plastic bear filled with honey, God bless her. It is saving me in this middle-of-the-night liquifacation. She also gave me some questions.

"Is there any chance you could get back together with his father?"

She had seen AbuBoo when he came to visit the daycare with me afterschool last week. We look good together. We seem happy together. When we are with Mr. Boo, we appear to be a happy family.

So...she got some of, "The Story."

Matt from has his own sad story of his wife dying the day after she gave birth. It's the answer to the question, "What happened?" We end up having to say something; to say an answer to what they've been dying to know.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Then we tell them that sound bite answer, which totally belies the depths of the absolute misery we have been through. It's hard to know what to tell; what to leave out. Once you start it sometimes becomes this snowball rolling down the hill which grows bigger and more out of control and you don't know how to stop.

My teacher's aid, having heard me talk about Mr. Boo in class (which I do daily in order for the kids to see the humanity of their teacher and help develop their sense of empathy) asked me yesterday. She asked and I told during my lunch break; during the time I should have been resting the little I had of my voice. Don't get me wrong! I adore my aide. If you hear I'm a little mad, it's at myself. I can't stop myself from answering.

I read once that talking about our tragedies, and this is perhaps (Allahu alim) the biggest tragedy of my life, helps us to weave the fabric of our being. We tell and tell and it develops us into a healed whole. Without telling, we never reconnect our fragmented lives back together. It's not so much that others have to hear, but that we have to tell again and again.

Matt, God bless him, has faced the biggest heartbreak I have ever heard. He keeps going.

For me, I have to keep going as well. Knowing Matt helps me to do that. Knowing all of you, who hurt and blog, helps me too. We are all managing with only one wing, they say, and need to connect with someone else in order to fly.

For the babysitter, I tried to explain that it was not a matter between two people: it was a triangulated relationship that was never going to work. Astragferallah.

For my teacher's aide, I tried to say how the haram that entered into our married life tainted everything else to the point that it was unlivable.

I did say that I couldn't hate AbuBoo. He brought me to Islam. He gave me a beautiful boy. Alhumdulillah.

They both answered, "You are mashallah a strong woman."

Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought her back.

Maybe that's why I tell. I forget that I am strong. I sit on my big comfy chair and type to all of you with my awful throat and my runny nose and I forget. I feel weak right now, but to hear that I've been through hell and back? Well, that's affirming.

"Religion is for those who believe in hell. Faith is for those who've been to hell and back."

Inshahallah, I'll keep getting all the ways.


Anonymous said...

Im sorry you are sick, hope u feel better. Inshallah this is expiation for your sins

dramamama said...

Insha Allah you will feel better, sis. Lots of fluid and rest! xx

Yosra said...

To Karen (Whose Comment Doesn't Deserve Space or Consideration),

Since you don't like what you read:


I don't need you.

Oh, and asalamlaykom.

Yosra said...

Ahhhhhhhh Dear Readers...Asalamalaykom,

"Karen," has now left me two more messages on a Friday night. Didn't even bother to read what she had to say. Unless she's Karen Armstrong, I'm not interested.

Can I just say that, for someone who is professing to be highly bothered by what I write, she sure does seem to find a lot of time to devote to my betterment. else could her time be used?

Tidying up her spice rack?

Shining her shoes?


Reading Quran?

Asking for forgiveness?

Maybe...looking inward instead of outward? 'Cause The Good Lord knows I'm kinda sick of people (who don't blog, mind you) coming by to point their finger and tell me how I'm all screwed up while ignoring all the fingers pointing back on themselves.

If I am, "delusional," for believing my life is Spirit-led, I'd sure choose that over being Karen-led any day.

Get some sleep, Karen. It will all feel better in the morning, inshahallah.