This has been a hard week in the labeling department of Yosra, Inc. They sure have been busy!
I have been called:
Actually, that was within the same phrase so I'll amend that. Let me start over...
I have been called:
cruel and heartless,
a horrible mother,
not a true friend,
and not a good Muslim.
I've been told that:
I'm too loud,
I'm not funny,
I'm out of line,
and I'm better off dead.
This is the end of that week. The week is done. Alhumdulillah.
I told my husband that Mr. Boo and I would be needing pizza for dinner tonight. No one eats pizza but us. The rest of the family seems happy with rice and chicken but I can't eat that endlessly. I can't eat it on Thursday. I need my T.G.I.T. (Thank God it's Thursday) food. I need a break from what was and a hope that I can start re-establishing what will be better.
I looked forward to that pizza. It isn't exactly pizza, but more on that later. Sure, it isn't Fat Lorenzo's but Pizza King is the closest facsimile I can get delivered to my home next to the Pyramids.
I realize that I've got a refrigerator full of leftovers from downstairs. I have carefully brought them up, covered them up, yet not eaten them up. I didn't really like that food the first time I saw it. Alhumdulillah, it's halal but it wasn't enlivening me. It wasn't me.
The Land of Misfit Food will soon be cleaned out and donated to the sheep on the roof. He's only here until Eid Al-Adha. He might as well enjoy a home cooked meal while he can (before he becomes the home cooked meal).
I don't have to accept what other people give me. I don't have to keep holding on to it because I don't know what to do with it. I know I don't want it! It is depressing to horde the horrible. I truly need to release.
When I walked in the door, my husband was still mad at me. It sucks to not be welcomed home. It sucked even more that he didn't get our pizza. As he cut his toenails in the entryway, and seemed to talk to his feet more than to me, I wondered why I had hoped so much and received so little?
I told him how we got home. "The tuk-tuk was on it's way to get gas so it didn't take us. The carriage driver saw us. When he went past, I told him, 'Mashahallah,' for his baby horse walking alongside the big horse. He offered to give us a ride. I told him that I didn't have any money. At first, I thought only Mr. Boo should ride with him because...the man...was sitting on the seat and I didn't want to sit close to him. But then he moved and I agreed to jump up. He took us home."
It was miraculous to me. Earlier today, I could not have imagined I'd see a baby horse yet I live in the perfect spot for it. It's a world where I've got to navigate a way to our street with my feet or a tuk-tuk yet I arrived like Cinderella in a carriage.
I prayed asr. I didn't feel well from the bus ride. I didn't feel good from my cold reception. I went to lie down. I cried. The week had been stressful. Even strong women cry. Maybe we cry more because it hurts to be misperceived as though we were heartless, cruel and bad.
It is crazy-making to feel that you've given your all and to get less than you wanted in return. However, we have to give because of who we are not because of who the others are. God always knows what we've given. With God is our true reward.
So, I blabbered on to my husband when he came upstairs. He prayed. He agreed to order the pizza after he ate downstairs. We would wait.
You know what? It was fine. I made popcorn to hold us over. I put in "Eat, Pray, Love," and I felt some release of my own stuff crowding my head.
I've made my own life. I'm nearing 45. I'm often misunderstood and mislabeled but I'm not easily misled any more. Maybe I have spent a week wondering how so many people got me wrong. Now? I think I need to spend a weekend enjoying what I've gotten right.
The pizza was good. There were eight (count 'em) little plastic letter Ys keeping the box from ruining the cheese. God bless! I envision some crafty necklace with them.
The pizza doesn't have sauce. I realize that it gets disqualified as being real pizza then but it's still tasty. Even bad pizza is still good (whereas the same is not true for sex...bad sex is just bad). In Egypt, the restaurants include a little ketchup packet. I never wanted to use ketchup on my pizza because IT'S KETCHUP. Yet, tonight I opened the packet. I realized something huge: those cheap packets of ketchup don't actually taste like ketchup and they really do taste good on the pizza that doesn't really taste like pizza. Subhanallah.
I don't know what you're going to get out of this post but I hope it's some clarity. We all have needs. We need to hold tight to them. Others are not always going to support us. That's OK because God will send glorious good times to us when we need them. Keep light. Keep loving. Believe that you don't have to eat the shit that others want to serve up to you. You can plan your party and enjoy your nights and days. Don't be so set in your ways that you can't accept what is available to make your life better. Open up to what is untried and go ahead; taste what you are curious about. It beats the status quo which has been beating you up.
And say, "alhumdulillah" a lot.
Alhumdulillah for everything.