I find myself creating a blog for every part of my life where I feel drained of hope and in need of someone to talk to. My thoughts often speak to a sympathetic side of me, which I offer everyone.
I'll start from the beginning, beginning. As though anyone should find this blog per chance, at least you will have the history of my life. The rationale and decisions that get me down can be somewhat.. understood.
I was born in India and before I could remember any of it, moved to a Southern state in the great US of A. I've grown up, gone to college, and worked in the same city since I was 3 years old. Not much of me has changed in 22 years, but everything around me changes. If everything around someone changes so often, wouldn't they change as well? After all, perception is reality. If your home, neighborhood, road, and car change - can anyone determine you were the same person who lived on Pine Street?
I'm a 25 year old Muslim who has taken the ups and downs of religion as it has been and will be always. I grew up with the almost blissful logic of black and white. As you get older everything falls into this faded gray that is lighter gray in some areas and dark gray in others. But as far as reasoning is concerned, nothing can be as it was when we were younger. Eating dessert before dinner was not admissable, but on your birthday you could eat as much cake without dinner as you wanted. Now, it doesn't phase anyone to have a sweet snack before dinner and almost no one wants the big slice of cake anymore.
I started life as a good little Muslim girl. I would go to the mosque every Saturday, learn Arabic, play with friends, and learn amazing stories of Prophets in the afternoon. I did this until I was in 9th grade. Then, I begin to dwindle in the amount of people who continued to come to the mosque every weekend. I was promoted from student to teacher. With a strong affinity for little children, and equipped with the basic skills, I spent the next 4 years teaching students Arabic and my favorite stories of Jonas, Noah, Soloman, and so many more. These were human beings who, with a little faith and help from God, survived the world drowning or living in a whale or even making a camel out of a mountain.
Things remained black and white for most of my college years. I continued to learn and grow educationally, religiously, and as a person in general. I was able to break through the misconception that women who veil themselves must remain quiet, reserved, and let their personalities only be seen by those worthy of seeing it. I let my personality shine through my hijab - befriending all people and vocalizing both appropriate and inappropriate (for shock value and my amusement) jokes.
I spent my last year in school discovering who I was. I was unhappy most of the time, always hiding my sadness behind a smile. I knew not many people have the patience to listen and sympathize with someone who is in despair of their life. Let's be honest, how many people care to listen to someone gripe about their lives in a manner that makes it seem worse than poverty itself? I know I have much to be grateful for, but also, appreciation dwindles in the face of depression.
Though I put on a show for everyone around me, making it seem that I did not even notice that I hadn't been even remotely close to a relationship in my entire life - it hurt to see everyone around me find their soulmates while I remained the nonthreatening friend. The nonthreatening friend no one had an issue with when I hung out with their boyfriend, fiance, husband - because I just was not pretty enough to attract their attention.
I begin hating my hijab for it. I didn't want to remain the forgettable face in the corner that was being judged as the most religious. I didn't want to be what I had been for the last 7 years. I wanted to be noticed, and I wanted to be seen.
