Unknown Title.
How many of us truly maintain a personal blog where we freely pour out every intricate detail of our lives? I reckon such candid bloggers are more common in the western world.
These individuals genuinely couldn't care less about others' opinions or the reactions their words might evoke. For them, their blog is their personal sanctuary, an unfiltered expression of their inner thoughts. They've made a conscious decision that if it's personal, it stays personal.
Meanwhile, some of us use blogs primarily to share personal experiences without diving into every aspect of our lives
Welcome to my world—ARAFASWORLD. It's a realm I often describe as boundless, a space where I'm always seeking limitless possibilities.
At some point in my life, I yearned to be that well-known figure, someone celebrated within my community for my endeavors. There were moments of envy toward others' achievements, yet strangely, that envy became a source of motivation. It drove me to persist in doing what I loved and to continually evolve into a better version of myself.
Then, one day, after years of striving, I unexpectedly stopped. I recall the moment vividly when I opened Google and typed in my name—BAM! There I was, listed in the search results. But instead of feeling joy, I was gripped by a sense of apprehension. Oddly enough, it wasn't happiness that surged through me; it was more like a fear of my dad discovering how unexpectedly "known" I'd become. (I'm still chuckling at this part!)
Time flew by, and I found myself being interviewed by local fitness magazines and various online publications regarding my athletic journey—be it as a cyclist, basketball player, runner, yogi, or gymnast. They delved into my experiences with national teams, my learnings, and the quintessential question: where do I see myself in 5-10 years?
I've always found that last question a tad challenging. My standard response? "Allah knows better." For me, it's about learning and acquiring skills, striving for knowledge. I've always envisioned myself traversing diverse paths rather than merely remaining rooted in one place. I have this innate drive to explore more, do more.
They often asked me if I ever envisioned running my own business. My reply? "Yes, but I'm not entirely sure what form it will take. However, it's crucial that it serves humanity."
Engaging in these interviews felt like a fleeting moment of fame—10 minutes in a hall of recognition. At first, it was exhilarating. But as I embarked on these interviews and penned my thoughts, I began to question my affinity for it.
My secondary ambition was to secure a job, yet I harbored an aversion to working for someone else. So, I hopped from one job to another, parting ways when a boss with an unsavory attitude crossed my path. They say I'm a "workveller" now—a term I coined for job-hopping. All rights reserved, by the way! (Seriously, I made it up.)
Writing is my oxygen, my path, my sustenance—the very essence of my life. I mean, come on, even my fingers work out! And hey, in jest, I talk to my pens and papers like they're living entities. The pen, my favorite partner—I even dance with it sometimes. Call me a poet, why don't you? #Haiku
I'm not actively seeking a large readership for my blog, but it would be delightful if many people read it by choice, not coercion. My writings vary; they can be amusing, melancholic, or uplifting because I channel my emotions and intellect into them. You can feel my vibes through my writing! #Haiku
Okay, okay, maybe I'm tooting my own horn here! Pardon my excitement, but it's all a divine gift. But really, how did it all begin?
When I turned 12, everything changed drastically. That day marked the loss of my best childhood friend and the onset of Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Anything I ate had to vacate my Tumtum (my belly) in a hurry; my stomach was incredibly sensitive, and I had already reached Stage three. It was a lot to handle, but it also marked the beginning of my writing journey—a form of solace in a tumultuous time.
Physically, my growth seemed to hit a halt. I distinctly remember visiting the nurse's office, measuring in at 162cm tall and weighing 65kg. That weight became an unchanging constant, almost infinite, until my first year at law school when it finally dropped to 61kg. Thankfully, it's been stable and healthy ever since, Alhamdulillah.
But that's not the heart of the matter. If you were to see me in person (FIGURATIVELY SPEAKING, of course), you'd see someone grappling with immense pain. Recently, I found myself in tears, yearning for someone to share my experiences with. I longed for a close confidant, someone to hold me tight as I poured my heart out without restraint. I used to have that person, but they're no longer a part of my life.
He used to be my everything—the one person who'd listen to my tears and reassure me with, "Arafa, I promise everything will be okay." He was my soulmate, father, husband, friend, and brother, all wrapped into one extraordinary human being. But now, he's gone.
Looking at everything now, I find myself oscillating between deep loneliness and moments when I accept it. It's a fluctuating emotion, contingent upon the situation I find myself in.
What can I possibly do? Sometimes, it's not about what we choose, but rather, the act of choosing itself is perplexing! #Haiku!
God has granted us freedom, endowed us with free will to make choices. Yet, these choices, already inscribed by God in a vast book, each person merely holding one page from the day they are but a sperm until the day they depart this world. It's a baffling notion, both fascinating and puzzling, but delving deeper into it feels like a discussion far beyond comprehension—for me and even for you, my dear reader. Let's leave it at that.
We all encounter challenges in life, and looking back at my 19-year-old self, I believed I had made a significant mistake. Now, I find it somewhat amusing that the mistake I thought was colossal pales in comparison to the current situation I'm facing.
The decisions I made have complicated things for everyone involved, partly due to the complexities that certain individuals introduce into situations. Recently, I found myself in tears, grappling with these thoughts:
Why was I brought into this world? Why must my actions cause suffering for others? Why does it seem like luck is never on my side?
Do you realize how many times I've repeated this sentiment from July 2016 until now? I've found myself wishing for my own demise, yet I constantly question: what good would it do if I were to die? Would it simply be another mistake?
The reason is that if my life were to end, so too would the misery for everyone caused by my existence. Moreover, I wouldn't have to hear from my parents that it was my fault. We all err, and while God forgives, humans struggle to understand and often place blame as long as you're alive.
It's painful. Painful to acknowledge that I'm the source of their suffering now. Sometimes, I wish I had never been born at all, believing that my absence might bring them relief. But I know deep down that God knows better. I've had to silence these thoughts before they become more painful to hear from my inner voice.
I simply wish for a life that is uncomplicated, devoid of these struggles, where I wouldn't have to subject anyone else to this difficult path
"It's incredibly challenging... It's been 4 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days... What more can I say?
I'm persevering, but it's tough being entirely on my own. While I know Allah is sufficient, I also yearn for someone I can confide in—someone with whom I can speak openly, cry without inhibition, and share without feeling ashamed or embarrassed; just a person willing to listen to me.
I rarely voice my grievances, but when I do, it signifies that I've reached the limit of my patience, hoping to gather another ounce of it."
Many people perceive me as a confident, outgoing, and open-minded individual. Some see positives, others may harbor negative thoughts, and that's alright - it's about finding balance.
However, I have a confession to make: there are moments when I don't feel strong. There are times when I lack the confidence to tackle certain things, yet I do them out of a sense of fairness or obligation. Is there a label for me? Is it the love of adventure? Curiosity? Or something else entirely?
What I do know is that I fear the unknown, yet I'm driven to explore it despite my fears, judgments, and critics. Sometimes I'm consciously aware of my choices, sometimes not. Call it what you will, but sometimes I have a clear understanding of who I am, while at other times, it feels like a different version of myself is guiding my actions. I'm still not entirely fond of myself, even though I've come to accept who I am. I don't always see myself as beautiful or exceptionally smart; I still yearn to gather knowledge and wisdom from ancient sources. I continue to wait for what's to come, wondering when this period of waiting will conclude. I'm still not entirely in harmony with myself. But you know what? Alhamdulillah, I'm alright. I'm still smiling.
"I've got something else to share: lately, I've developed a dislike for waking up in the morning. Instead, I find solace in staying awake at night. I've grown averse to witnessing the sunrise; my preference lies in embracing the darkness with just a hint of light seeping through from a distant corner of the hall, gently illuminating a small portion of my room while the rest remains cloaked in darkness.
Every day, my wish is for rain, and I hope for the sun to remain hidden behind thick, dark clouds, finding beauty in the shade of gray.
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