The Best Way I know How.

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم 

The Best Way I Know How

September 25, 2020

There's wisdom in the saying: lessons repeat until they're learned. Today, I faced such a lesson once again.

Over the past few years, I’ve dedicated myself to personal growth. I devoured books, uncovered hidden talents, met incredible people, and ventured down paths I never imagined taking. All of it led me to one understanding:

I am keeping my options open.

This mindset allows me to learn through life’s experiences and express myself authentically. At the age of 12, I experienced an event that changed the trajectory of my life. While it left a deep mark on my soul, it also became the catalyst for my journey as a writer, Alhamdulillah.

At that tender age, I struggled to understand and trust Allah’s wisdom. Anger and confusion clouded my mind as I grappled with the trials placed before me, failing to see the lessons hidden within them.

Depression became a silent companion. Though I never considered self-harm, I endured relentless bullying and ostracism. I felt out of place, as though I didn’t belong anywhere.

While my childhood is filled with countless stories, the year I turned 12 remains a turning point. In my sadness and longing to be understood, I began writing a book. I believed sharing my truth would offer clarity and justice for what I had endured.

Looking back now, I realize that despite my pain, my soul remained rooted in love and light. If I had understood this then, perhaps I wouldn’t have harbored resentment toward those who wronged me. Instead, I would have embraced the strength growing within.

This realization marked the beginning of my journey as a poet. Inspired by the works of Abdul-Wahab Al-Bayati, whose verses spoke directly to my emotions, I started channeling my struggles into poetry. His works, though often centered on themes of death and sacrifice, sparked a sense of vitality within me. They helped me explore and accept the concept of mortality, offering solace during my lowest moments.

One of his verses resonates deeply with my journey:
أحبّها صبّية
ميّتة وحيّة
قصيدة على ضريح، حكمة قديمة
قافية يتيمة
صفصافة عارية الأوراق
تبكي على الفرات!

Through poetry, I found healing. Depression had weighed me down, pushing me into excessive sleep, stress, and appetite loss—eventually leading to IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome). Yet, as I reflect today, I see that these struggles shaped me into the expressive individual I am.

Now, I pour my emotions into words, reaching out to those who share similar experiences, and reminding them that they are never alone.

Still, being authentic isn’t always easy. For the first time, I felt remorse for staying true to myself. When I expressed my thoughts and feelings openly, I faced harsh criticism and unjustified attacks. I fiercely defended someone I deeply cared about, only to be met with judgment and malice.

At 12, I endured cruel labels—words I won’t repeat now—designed to diminish my sense of self. Yet even after all these years, I ask myself: why does judgment still hurt? Why are people quick to criticize me when I share my truth? Why should defending my honor evoke such hostility?

As humans, we are entitled to feel anger, sadness, fear, and love. These emotions are part of who we are. Yet, despite the pain I felt, I swallowed my tears and carried on with my day, as if nothing had happened.

It’s 1 AM now, and the ache still lingers. So, I rose, performed my ablutions, and turned to prayer. I sought forgiveness from Allah for my shortcomings and offered myself the grace to forgive too. I reminded myself that it’s okay to be me.

No one else will defend me as fiercely as I stand up for myself—and that’s enough for me. Alhamdulillah.

Arafa Alhamadi