mymotherhalf.com

10+ Years in 6 Hours

Sounds highly improbable and confusing but that’s exactly what happened last Saturday when an old friend and I met after so many years to catch up on each other’s lives.

Of course, as expected, we only just scratched the surface but the hiatus in our in-person interactions over time had done nothing to interfere with the instant reconnection we shared when we sat down together that day, Alhamdulillah! Even as I was driving on my way to meet my friend, Aziza, I was reminiscing on so many coincidences and incidents we’d shared, to the point I felt quite emotional. There have been some uncanny parallels in our lives including the times we both got married and, subsequently, divorced. I’ve known her for half my life and seeing her that day, those twenty years and more flashed through my mind like a silent sepia picture story.

***Sometimes Still, Sometimes Troubled***

It was a truly poignant reunion – thinking about what was, what is and what could have been. Neither of us imagined how the trajectory of our lives would pan out the way that it did but here we are now and trying to make the best of what we have. And although I last saw her over ten years ago, the truth is, our friendship started well before that time and a lot of water has passed under that bridge.

My meeting with Aziza, because of our similar stories, made me reflect on my past married life, including all the highs and lows. I don’t usually retreat into that zone these days as I think I’ve exhausted my emotions there. I have rinsed myself of my past to the extent where I don’t well up inside with a burgeoning grief. I can actually look back with a detached stance which in itself tells me that I have made good progress and have largely healed. So, when talking about marriage and divorce with Aziza, I found myself simply relaying facts without embellishment. I was telling a story as if I were talking about somebody else. But I think that is just the point. It was somebody else. The old me has evolved from a chrysalis into somebody who is more confident, comfortable and calm with herself and her outlook on life. I have risen from the debris of my past.

So, nostalgia does not come easily these days. I have made peace with my lot and am now working on extracting the best I can from my present life. It’s taken me ten years to create a new existence for myself and my sons. Today, I have moved into another mental zone where I occupy the centre of concentric circles which radiate out to my sons, family and beyond. I am the centre of my own attention and believe this pattern will hold until the end. I know it’s the same for my friends who are in a similar situation to me. We have worked hard to come towards the centre and it is here we are determined to remain. The centre we occupy has room only for Allah as we have learnt to eliminate the NPCs (non-playable characters). It’s a very liberating and rewarding spot to be in and the self-nurture has been instrumental towards inner peace and contentment, Alhamdulillah.

***Putting Me First and in the Centre***

Older But Younger

***Moving Forwards and Backwards at the Same Time***

It’s been a lifetime of going through long periods of low self-esteem and then short-lived bouts of positivity but finally, at this late stage of life, I feel I have finally sown the seed of confidence within.

It’s the type of confidence that tells me that I don’t need validation from others; lately I’ve found a freedom of expression be it through my attire or social circle or even my daily routine. All these things combined have helped release me into a zone where I continue to have a yearning to live and enjoy a sense of contentment and peace, Alhamdulillah.

I’d be lying if I said that state has been a constant. It hasn’t been. Rather, there have been blips and dips. I’ve had phases where I become so despondent and ask myself why bother to even reach that ever-elusive goal of perfection – perfection in the way I look, in the balance between work, exercise and rest and in the interactions with family and friends.

However, somehow, over the last few years, I’ve worked out my niche and have established a lifestyle whereby all those elements that make the whole have come into play quite well. The nicest thing I remind myself is that I get to control a lot of it and if there’s something that’s not quite right, it’s up to me to redress that balance. Nobody gets to interrupt or skew my goals.

Perhaps I haven’t articulated my thoughts too well here. But I guess what I’m also saying is that the single life in my twilight years has its advantages. No stresses brought about by a husband and his whims, expectations or demands. That’s not to denigrate marriage. For sure, marriage has many beautiful advantages and joys. However, now that I’m no longer married, I have learnt to cherish this situation and use it to my advantage. The bitter-sweet has evolved more into just sweet. And for that I am truly grateful.

I realise that Allah doesn’t give everyone everything. And that’s fine. I put my trust in His decision. Rather than lament what is seemingly lacking, I will immerse myself in what He has bestowed upon me, most of which I am not even aware of.

The older me is now living the younger version of my life. It’s not a recap of the past. It’s more a second chance in life to appreciate my own company but with a self-confidence I never had back then. I can now focus on myself having sacrificed the better part of these last 25+ years to marriage/children/post-divorce trauma. Alhamdulillah, I believe I’m at peace at last with my lot. I’ve come to terms with my situation and know that Allah wants the best for me like He does for everyone else. So the zest for life is like that of a young person who eagerly seeks their fortune with hope and zeal except I have much more life experience behind me.

I wouldn’t change what I have now for anything.

Thankful for Friends

If it weren’t for the select sentient beings in my life that I hold dearly in my inner circle, my days would have passed very differently especially these past few years. I am not one for collecting acquaintances and then deluding myself into thinking these people will stay the course of the journey through time. Some will fall by the wayside, sometimes not through want of trying but just because…

Yet, there have been a few rare occasions where there comes along a person who I gel with well to the point that I know I have their full trust as they do mine. I can talk freely without fear of being judged; I can divulge certain truths about my life and expect support or advice rooted in sincere intentions. Those type of friends aren’t many and so I treasure them.

When I think about it, I’d say that my closest friends are arguably those I’ve come to know over the last ten years ever since I vacated my position as wife. Those wonderful humans have consoled and cajoled me through thick and thin. I’d like to believe I’ve reciprocated too primarily because we’ve all had shared experiences which not everyone else would understand.

***Coffee Tastes Better with Great Company***

In my twilight years, I know I will seek out my friends to keep me sane. I will look to them for company on those days when I would like to share an experience with someone be it a day out or even a holiday abroad. Their friendship doesn’t feel burdensome or unauthentic. It’s organic and wholesome and unfettered. We simply get one another without having to explain.

Friends are one of Allah’s blessings and I say “Alhamdulillah” for giving me quality friends over quality. I don’t need an entourage of people claiming to like me. It’s enough that my small but close circle of friends and I have a healthy inter-dependency and mutual respect. Meeting them at regular intervals for a coffee is tantamount to having a wellbeing check-up at a clinic. Actually, I’d say it’s even better! There is no anxiety beforehand and I definitely leave feeling uplifted.

I pray Allah allows those special bonds to endure and flourish in every conceivable situation, through life’s ups and downs.

***Amazing Views All the Way with Friends***

Unwelcome Change

‘Change’ is a word that often carries positive connotations. People view it as a move on or away from antequated practices or beliefs. And sometimes it is that and it is welcome.

However, I’ve been feeling that there are some changes I’ve been witnessing that don’t sit well with me. I’ve observed how my own sons and I might be at loggerheads with different perspectives on things. Sometimes, I will firmly maintain I am right because I see the longer view on a matter and not simply what is seemingly apparent. That’s because I have the benefit of having lived longer on this earth and have learnt through life experiences. My sons have then conceded I have been right whether it has been immediately or much later.

However, there are other times where we don’t see eye to eye and I have had to accept that the way I see the world will permanently be at odds with my sons or younger people for that matter. That’s a difficult fact to absorb especially when the shift in opinion from one generation to the next seems seismic. The positive cultural values I was raised with, I realise, won’t necessarily be inherited by them. Whilst I lament that, I realise I can’t manipulate their minds or coerce them into thinking like me. The world in which they are growing up in is very different to the one I was raised in. We come from two different value systems and cultural contexts.

I admit it can be frustrating when I can’t convince those closest to me of my view especially when I know it is well within Islamic teachings. However, that’s not to say their views aren’t also within Islamic principles. It just seems it’s at the other diluted end of acceptable. Perhaps I need to be more understanding of the times and context and challenges that these young people face? Perhaps I am too narrow in my interpretations of things? I ask myself these questions and more. However, I find I can’t shift from what I believe to be true and as long as my opinions don’t fly in the face of Islam, I will stubbornly refuse to budge. We already live in an age where everything about our Islamic identity is being peeled back until only the core remains, if that. It’s a scary time and the cultural tidal wave that comes in and out is greatly eroding the very essence of who Muslims are.

I’m only glad that I won’t be around to see what plays out in the next 50 – 100 years.

Favourite Season – Spring

***A Spectacle of Colour Against an Azure Sky***

For as long as I can remember, Spring has always been my favourite time of year. I guess the reasons for that are obvious – it is the harbinger of change from the blustery cold winter to summer. The blossoms on trees everywhere speak of freshness, being alive and waking up to something new. In short, it marks the end of dark days and the sobering and sombre thoughts of winter.

Although some people prefer summer when the heat is in full swing and all the blossoms have finally given way to full foliage, I prefer Spring because it is a time full of joyous colour. Everything has gone from a lethargy to an energetic vibrancy which seemed to have been dormant for too long.

This vigour reverberates all around and produces a correlation in my own physical and mental being. I find myself more inclined to venture outdoors and enjoy being immersed in the carnival of colours going on around me. It is too stunning to justify with words. I marvel at Allah’s creation and the endless variations of plants and flowers and leaves. It is a feast for all the senses.

Being amonngst all this is the perfect escape from my reality. I wish this festival that nature puts on display every year, would stay with us for longer. Despite that, I’m grateful that I’m able to enjoy it with my own senses and indulge in it for free.

In a world where sometimes human connections don’t or can’t provide any fulfilment, nature always comes to the rescue.

An Even Newer Chapter

Earlier today, my son set off for his next chapter in life. He has found a new place of work and hence has had to leave home to be nearer to it. What has been home for him for the last ten years or so, is no more. This is a new phase not just for him but for the rest of us who remain behind too. Arguably, the greatest change has been for him and me, as his mother.

It’s not just the physical departure that I have to get used to. It’s the realisation that there’s a whole new permanent change that is taking place. Insha’Allah, one day he will get married and this will seal the fact that life for us as a family will forever be different now. And so it will be for my others sons too when each of them also figure out their next move, both in terms of career and marriage one day, insha’Allah. It’s a curious crossroads in life for me – a time to celebrate their growth and maturity but also to feel poignant about the past.

Would I want to hold onto my sons for the longest time? Of course! But I know that’s not healthy for any of us and I certainly do not want to be the cause of their stagnation or missed opportunities. I guess this is how life is meant to be. From one single family unit there will be splintering off. Although in my own case, their father was the first one to break away… Not the way I ever imagined my life to pan out but it is what it is. At least, with my sons, their departure from home was something I could always foresee.

With that foresight, I’ve tried to prepare myself for my own readjustments. Keeping busy with work, both paid and voluntary, and having a good close circle of family and friends, has been my saving grace. All of that embedded in a belief that Allah is the One who will guide my heart to a sense of peace and contentment. I remind myself of the adage, “The only one constant in life is change.” This is exactly where I am now, moving on the undulating waves of time. Although I don’t doubt my sons will not leave me completely on my own as I grow older, I also don’t wish to become dependent too soon. As long as I can keep going with some control over my own life, I will, insha’Allah and this is so that my own aspirations will sustain me whilst around me is all change.

A Gentle Exit from Ramadan

This year, Ramadan entered my home like a gentle breeze and soothed me into a state of submission and the desire to purge the excesses of life. The month has an ineffable ability to do that for Muslims all over the world. Even those who struggle to keep up the pace and follow their good intentions with good deeds, simply know that they are in the embrace of a sacrosanct time whose purity and uniqueness described in lofty words would still be doing it a disservice.

Even though I know I fell short of attaining goals I had set for myself during Ramadan, I also know that had I achieved them, there would still be a plethora of things I could aspire to in that quest to be a better person.

However, that in itself is not a cause for despair. Because as long as I keep trying and even if only incremental improvements are made, they are still improvements nevertheless. Being static and complacent is the real danger. Which made me reflect on how I planned to exit Ramadan if I would be granted to see it through in the first place…

One of the real fears that a person has is that life after Ramadan shouldn’t be a return to the ‘old ways’ or a regression of sorts. There has to be change which dictates that upon self-reflection, a person makes a commitment to improving themselves is the quest for reaching higher standards and goals. Inevitably, over time, things will slowly come unravelling and even with the best will in the world, as mere mortals, the flaws will return.

That being said, I’ve made it my mission that I will try to delay this process with a heightened consciousness. I don’t want my exit from Ramadan to be like a plunge in icy water in winter. It has to be a smooth, gradual process to the point where the continuity is more visible than the extraction from that blessed month. The criteria which would make this all the more possible is a certain silent introspection, being surrounded by like-minded people and hope combined with gratitude. So, it will take a combination of internal and external factors working seamlessly together.

I do have confidence that I will follow through with my action plan, insha’Allah even though there will be times that I falter. I see that the Islamic calendar is permeated throughout with occasions in which we can aim to score high marks and gives us a sense of focus and direction. It is all beautifully laid out and when I feel there are times I might drag my feet, those specific days, weeks or months will be there as a reminder of what I could potentially aim for instead.

The mastery of Allah’s plan knows no bounds. Perhaps I am a late arriver in this lesson of life but insha’Allah, arrive I have.

Hot Coals

As I continue to move through my latter life, I realise that I am surrounded by a lot of chaos and discord. This is playing out in the wider world and sometimes it feels even uncomfortably close to home.

Whilst I can’t always take pre-emptive action against it, my coping strategy is to remain quiet and bide my time and ask Allah to keep me patient. I need to ride the tide and hope to stay afloat and not become submerged in the cacophony of the events surrounding me.

In this blessed month of Ramadan, this strategy becomes even more pertinent. Because, for sure, this is a precious time to reflect and guard myself against succumbing to deviation at all levels. Although I don’t – and can’t – claim to have reached perfection at all, I strive to not fall onto that slippery slope of doom. I see things around me that trouble me and yet have to remind myself that the least I can do is not to become embroiled or influenced by them. I take comfort that just being conscious of this state is something to acknowledge.

I do lament that I live in a time where shamelessness is beautified and resistance to that is considered anachronistic. This is when I remember the prophetic saying or hadith where we are reminded that there will come a time when holding onto one’s faith is like holding onto hot coals. It seems we are already here.

I am exhausted. It pains me to see blatant examples of religious sedition. Not that I am above making mistakes and am immune to fallacious behaviour. However, I feel that findng companions in life that will help uplift me is something becoming more rare.

Ramadan, for me, is about stripping back and throwing out the many excesses of life that I have fallen in to. It is about realigning my faith. It is about wanting to learn the lessons of this month and hoping to carry them through the rest of the year. Insha’Allah, I hope those hot coals, if placed in my hand, will be pieces that I can hold and not flinch at.

It’s a scary world that my children will inherit and I pray they are always part of a solution and not the problem. Ameen.

From Both Sides of the Fence

It’s almost ironic that over the last few days, I have been the confidante for someone close who shared with me that she is finally coming to terms with the impasse in her marriage and the need to call it a day. On the other hand, I’ve been dealing with people close to me who are preparing to embark on a new chapter of their lives called marriage. Here I am, sitting in a kind of no man’s land pondering both scenarios and thinking of how I used to live in both camps and now belong to neither. Strange, life.

Whilst I listen to details shared by all these people, I realise that I have subconsciously developed a stance which leaves me unruffled because whatever they are worried about in their imminent futures, will all come to pass. It always does. The dust will settle and everyone will establish a sense of normalcy for themselves. The drama cannot last forever. Whether it’s stress about what to do in a post-divorce realm or how someone is going to work out a formula for a wholesome marriage as they start out on that journey, I have every confidence that people will figure it out. As long as they have the resolve to push on and persevere and trust in Allah’s plan, then that should be enough to give them the self-confidence in their own decisions.

I know because I’ve been there. I’ve lived in both those realms. And I am totally convinced that the salient factor in my survival was my belief in Allah’s plan. This was true when I was setting out on getting married despite everyone else’s advice against that decision. It was also true, ironically, when that marriage ended. Through both scenarios, I knew that as long as I committed to a course of action in which I would not stagnate and sink in a quagmire of depression or helplessness, I would be just fine. And I was, Alhamdulillah.

My own formula to get through sticky situations now, however big or small, is to remind myself that these are just the bumps and scrapes I have to endure on the path towards understanding Allah. Life was never meant to be smooth sailing. Failure isn’t measured by divorce, losing a job or not having the perfect material possessions. Failure should be measured by the inability to see that the architect of life’s plans is Allah and the skirmishes we encounter are His way of reminding us who is in charge and where we need to put our trust. For sure, trust in its truest form should never be placed in people. They will disappoint.

So, returning to those around me who are going through life’s tribulations, I will always maintain that if they make a decision with the right niyyah (intention), then all will fall into place beautifully. There is nothing more they can do anyway. Just start as you mean to go on. We delude ourselves into thinking we have control. Ultimately, we don’t. Nothing in life is guaranteed. We need to execute our plan, strive for the best and leave the rest to Allah. He knows us better than we know ourselves. I can testify to that having learnt so much about myself these past few years. It’s one of the wonderful things about ageing – it places a tranquility in our hearts. A form of acceptance but not one which is synonymous with defeat. Instead, it’s a quiet understanding where we know what battles can be fought and won. Or lost.

Perhaps the most important lesson has been that the one relationship I need to consistently work on is where it is just me and Him.

A New Milestone of Motherhood

***Celebrating a Journey with my Sons***

Alhamdulillah, my oldest sons, being twins, have just turned 25! What a poignant time for me as my mind drifts back to the day of their birth and all the events leading up to and from that point in time. So much has happened since then, some of it predictable but a lot of it unforeseen. That’s not to say the latter category has been unwelcome. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’d argue that most of the unforeseen events since then have been incredibly life-changing and uplifting.

I wrote a blog post when my sons turned 21 with that being a significant age in European thinking. However, 25 years has a different resonance altogether. It’s a quarter of a century. Almost half my own life has been given over to being a mother and is a role which I have been honoured with since then. Literally overnight 25 years ago, I inherited a new title, a new dimension of my existence and a new purpose in life. I embraced it all and cherish it still, Alhamdulillah.

It has been a curious journey in that I have witnessed my sons evolve from complete dependence to an almost complete independence. Today, I am the one who is often in their care and guardianship as they acknowledge the sacrifices I have made – and continue to make -in my life. It’s been a sweet role-reversal although the worries and celebrations that come with the territory of motherhood will always remain. Whilst I now am more keen to pursue goals which are to do with my personal growth, my role as mother will continue unabated. The only difference is that it has gently morphed into a new form which takes into account my sons’ maturity and independence and all that that entails.

WIth all the ups and downs that life has thrown at me, I know I always emerge from scenarios feeling fortunate. That’s the one take-away emotion that dominates all else when I ruminate on motherhood. Whether I choose to celebrate my sons’ birthday with cake and candles or simply enjoy their company and quietly acknowledge another year gone by, I am grateful for the time we’ve all had together to laugh, cry and scream. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way, Alhamdulillah.

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