Misery – Strokes of My Pen

Creative Fiction

GRIEF

By Lubnah Abdulhalim March 9, 2019

There are five stages of grief; Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. You know this because you heard a widow talk about it. But that is not exactly the whole story. You are immersed in your own grief, maybe not that of widowhood but the intense grief is definitely there.

You have been married to the same man for twelve long years. It was a love marriage, or so you thought. Five months into the marriage you realize you are married to a narcissist who doesn’t really care about you. You are his victim. He is emotionally abusing you but that is something no one talks about right? People talk of infidelity in marriage, physical abuse, sexual abuse, negligence…but who talks about being emotionally abused? You know what people will say. They will say you are ungrateful. You have a husband who pays the bills and feeds you, what more do you want? So you are patient with him. Maybe he will change. Maybe he will see that he is mistreating you and change for the better.

A year goes by, but he is still cold, rude and arrogant. He dismisses your existence the way a patient dismisses they are about to die. They ignore it. That’s what he does to you. He ignores you. He makes you feel small. He makes you feel unloved. You feel like a ghost. You wonder why. You question a lot of things. What happened to the love he claimed to have for you? What changed? Is it that he realized you are less beautiful than he actually thought? Is he dissatisfied with what you bring to the marriage table?

Soon enough, the first baby comes, and he is an excited dad for a minute. Then the rejoicing is all gone. It is all about duties once again. Buying pampers and cerelac. Then the second baby comes along. Then the third. Then the fourth. Before you know it, it has been twelve years already. You have withered like a flower. You have lost weight and your will to live life as it should be.

When you had the first baby, you thought, ‘maybe this is it. Maybe he will now be more emotionally available for us’ but he didn’t. You thought of giving it time. You have hope. You have faith that things will get better. But four children later, your husband is still like a dead man walking. No emotions. No intimacy. No proper communication. All along, people could see your misery behind your forced smile. You never had to say anything, they just knew by how each one of you would take a different lane while walking at the road. Or how he would go to the farthest section from you in the supermarket. Or how he would quickly let his hand slip when you try to hold his hand in front of your family. People knew. You knew. But you just had a lot more to be grateful for. So you swallowed the bitter pill for years.

On your bedroom wall is a beautiful painting of the serenity prayer used in recovery programs. It says,
‘God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference’

You stare at it every single morning, like it would give you answers.
‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change’ and you wonder, is your marriage and the misery within it something you cannot change? Is it something you should have given up on a long time ago? Is this simply how it was meant to be?

Several friends suggested that you pick your children and walk away. But you always had this anticipation that things will eventually change. You thought, ‘But how can I walk away now when my children are young and need more parents?’ so you postponed it. When they became teenagers, life became even tougher because now, your children are all moody, stubborn and aggressive. You think, ‘This is the worst time to make children go through a divorce’ so you wait until they become adults. But deep down your heart you know it, it wasn’t just about the children. It is also about you. You not accepting that you are caged in an unhappy marriage that is not fulfilling in any way.

You stare at the serenity prayer. ‘Very powerful,’ you think. But do you have courage to change the things you can? Take life into your own hands. Be realistic on where your marriage is headed to? Is it something that can be salvaged? Changed? Saved? Or are you just seeking a mirage. An illusion?

It is like what happens when you are a child and can’t wait to be a teenager because at that age and time, you think being a teenager is the coolest thing. Then the teenage years are as chaotic as humanly possible and you look up to the young adults and you think, ‘these lads have exciting lives. Once I get there, it will be exciting too’ but you get to your twenties and realize there is so much confusion than excitement. Then you anticipate being like the real grown ups with careers and families and friends. But you get there and it strikes you, ‘NO ONE HAS IT FIGURED OUT.’ No one can actually, in full certainty, tell you what they are doing with their lives or where they are headed to. A mirage. You too have been seeking a mirage in your marriage, always anticipating certain incidents to turn around your life. Only, life doesn’t happen like that.

Whenever you think of divorce, you think of your reasons to walk away. How long is it considerable enough to have hope but also not to allow yourself drown in the sea of emptiness? How many months or years should one be in a marriage before they walk away? One year? Two? Five? When is the safest time to walk away without having blame and guilt on you? Its been twelve years and you still haven’t figured this out.

You know the stages of grief because you have been living in grief.

Denial: It is not that he doesn’t love me. He is just not an expressive person. He doesn’t know how to show me that he loves me.

Anger: Why are you doing this to me?! Why did you marry me if you had no interest in valuing me as your wife?! I don’t deserve this! I hate you! I hate that I ever met you!

Bargaining: Please love me.
Please love me.
Please love me.
Please love me.
Please love me.

Depression: I am so so tired. I just don’t want to live anymore. I just don’t want to live anymore!

Acceptance: ….

You are stuck here. In depression. You are yet to decide what really matters to you. You are yet to take action in either freeing yourself or saving your marriage at any cost. You are yet to decide whether an unhappy marriage is a reason good enough to walk away or patience is key here. Miracles do happen. Prayers do get answered. People do turn around and change completely. Question is, is your husband that kind of person? No one is going to decide it for you. No one knows your husband, your marriage, your children more than yourself. No one knows YOU than you. You know you need to face reality now.

You need to decide whether you want to die grieving of lost love or move to the next step of acceptance and take necessary action.

You know the five stages of grief so well, it is heartbreaking.

Creative Non-Fiction

MENTAL ISSUES AND SILLY THINGS PEOPLE WILL SAY TO YOU

By Lubnah Abdulhalim April 22, 2018

As a child, my fellow schoolmates would call me a cry baby and my family would say i’m moody. I heard those two words so often I believed that something was so wrong about me and that I was just a burden most of the times. This made me pull myself away and stay in my shell for the longest time. I believed, staying away is the only way to save people from my troubled heart. By the time I was nine, I was already facing physical drainage and excess fatigue. Coming from school, which was just 5-7 minutes away, I would have to pause on the way, sit down and catch my breath. Many years later I would sit in front of different doctors as they place the results in front of me and say, ‘The results are clear; your heart is in good condition, you are not over weight, your blood pressure is fine too…Everything is fine. Could it be that something is bothering you?’

The problem was, everything was bothering me. Starting from the stray cat I saw this morning to the whatsapp video on something that happened in China. I was carrying the entire universe on my frail body; it was shattering. At that time, I was quite desperate to be diagnosed with some physical ailment so that I could prove to people that there was a genuine reason for how my body functioned and how I am.

Over the years, I struggled with fatigue, over-thinking, too much worry and over-whelming emotions that brought me down over and over again. I would break down often, get panic attacks that would crash my soul down…I was bullied and manipulated many times. I lost a lot of ‘friends’ along the way. ‘Friends’ who thought my anxiety was attention seeking and that I was simply a nagging individual. To make it worse, my two very different personalities never made it easy for anyone to understand me fully. I was misunderstood; greatly. I was the black sheep everywhere I went. It thus made me create huge walls so that people wouldn’t get too close or they’d sink in my misery as well. The only other option would be that they’d leave.

For the longest time, one small phrase kept me afloat. When I was around eleven years old, there was some sort of fight at home so I locked myself in the washroom and broke down. My mother noticed my absence and kept knocking on the door asking me to come out. She kept saying everything will be okay but everything was blurry for me. In the midst of her begging, I heard her say to my sisters, ‘Lubnah ana imani’ to mean I am empathetic. That was the first time someone ever said something positive about my tears. I decided to cling on that like a drowning man holding onto a straw.

The biggest favour I did to myself was accept myself for who I am and start my self-discovery journey. I went both for ruqya and therapy. I keenly studied myself; what triggers my anxiety, my worry, my fear and my mood swings. I decided to take up Islamic psychology not just to help myself but hopefully help the many others who are like me and can’t speak up. Trust me, writing this down is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. When I started doing my writing training I purposely included therapeutic writing so that more people like me can have an idea on how to cope.

The hardest thing in all this was dealing with the words people threw at me. Sometimes they’d joke about my situation but they’d never know how badly it affected me. It killed my self esteem. As I kept on with my self discovery journey, I talked to a lot of other people with anxiety and who’ve experienced depression like I did. Here are some of the silly questions and comments anyone with mental illness will relate to.

1. That incident happened 3 years ago. You mean you aint over it?!
:

2. Just forget about it.
: Oh wow Lisa! Thank you so much for that. I don’t know why I never thought of it!

3. Cheer up already!

4. You wanted this for yourself.
: Watch me summon my demons 😀

5. You have weak faith in God.
: Please explain that to my 9 year old self.

6. Stop being a drama king/queen
:

7. Don’t you trust God’s plan?!

8. You just like being sad.

9. Maybe if you get married you will be fine.

10. Come on you need to grow up. Stop acting like a baby.

11. Some people are going through worse. People are hungry, malnourished, in war-torn areas, with all their family dead…how can you be stressed about something like that.

12. You are just being ridiculous with all that over-thinking.
: You think so?!

Okay, gifs aside 😀 ( Oh I really love the gifs 😀 )

I know there are a lot of people who are suffering silently, being judged and misunderstood. All i’ll say is this:

# It is psychologically proven that religious people have less mental distress. Our holy books do confirm that for the comfort of the heart you need to get attached to God. It is true too that people who are far from God are mostly miserable and dissatisfied with their lives. NONETHELESS, we have to also be aware that for some people, this is just their test. They may be making mistakes and sinning, but not entirely evil people such that you’d say God is punishing them. Mental illness is as real as biting into your own skin. We need to create awareness on this.

# If you have any mental issue, you are going to lose several people along the way. Perhaps even your family isn’t supportive or understanding. But do know that, eventually, the right people will come into your life and they will NEVER disregard your pain or call you names or joke about your suffering or compare you to the other relative who had a similar issue. They will accept you fully and walk beside you through self discovery, self control and healing. Keep having faith.

#It is so ridiculous when people think that marriage or love is what will cure your mental illness. The support you get in a good marriage may help you immensely in your recovery journey but that is never a guarantee is it? Build up your own emotional independence and walk through the storm on your own. The friends, family and others can walk beside you but never be entirely dependent on one or some people to heal you. What if they leave your life or pass away? Be your own anchor!

#Talk to your parents. Most of the times we just assume our parents won’t understand us and what troubles us. You could be surprised the amount of support they’d give you once you speak up. You will be so relieved. It could be one parent or both parents or maybe one of your siblings; just anyone you are comfortable talking to. Talking it out helps!

#It is true that whichever battle you are fighting, someone else is facing a waaay worse situation than you are. Yes, we should be grateful always, but we shouldn’t disregard our own battles and struggles either. You can’t tell someone with diabetics to not worry about their deteriorating health because a homeless child in Syria hasn’t eaten today, can you? Let’s face our troubles and work them out instead of burying them just because ‘someone out there has it worse’. Let us be realistic.

#Seek professional help. When it becomes unbearable, don’t feel ashamed or shy to seek professional help. Be brave and take care of your own self. Remember no one can take care of you better than yourself.

#Yes, pray more and be patient. Everyone is tested differently in this life and this is your battle to win. God only gives you what you can handle. Make sure to not fail this test.

#If you’re a parent, please be keen on your children’s life. Talk to them. Ask them often how they are doing. Encourage them to open up without judging them. Don’t allow your child seek comfort from somewhere else while you are around. Be their best friends.

#If you’re a friend/relative to someone with a mental issue; you have two choices. If you can, be very patient and supportive as they navigate through their journey of growth and healing. They need it so badly you have NO idea how much. That’s something they’ll forever be grateful for. If it is too draining and toxic for you, it is totally okay for you to excuse yourself kindly and take care of yourself. Sometimes we are so engrossed in the lives of the people we care about that we neglect ourselves. That shouldn’t be so. You can’t save them if they don’t want to be saved. You are only human and struggling as well. Make sure you know how to balance your own life before helping out someone else.

#If you’re in good mental state, take a minute to thank God for it. Mental illness of any kind isn’t something you’d wish for your enemy even. Don’t be quick to judge people who are withdrawn or cry a lot or seem moody…YOU JUST NEVER KNOW what storms and demons they are facing that you have absolutely no idea about. It is so easy to say I broke my leg I need a doctor than to say I haven’t slept or eaten or even woken up from my bed for the past 3 days. Do know that it takes a lot of courage for someone to open up about their mental state. Appreciate their honesty. Be kind, be patient and give people benefit of doubt. Don’t joke about someone’s misery; you really wouldn’t like to be in their shoes. We don’t need pity, we need understanding. Remember them in your prayers too. That will be really helpful, thank you.

#You being the victim of a mental illness; depression, anxiety, PTSD…whichever it is, it is very important that you start your self discovery journey. Seek help, pray a lot, research on your condition and mostly, take care of yourself. Most people won’t understand your struggle due to lack of information and ignorance, but that shouldn’t bring you down. Take your time in the growth process. It won’t be a one day or one week thing. Sometimes it takes months or even years. But definitely worth the trial.

I am still on my journey and I know it will probably be like this for my entire lifetime yet I believe this is my test and God gave me this kind of soul for a reason.
May God easen it for anyone struggling within their own souls and may you find the peace of mind and solace you seek. Ameen.

As we end this, we have two important events coming up:

One is the writing training next weekend (28th & 29th). The sessions include: Basic writing skills, introduction to blogging, therapeutic writing, writing about the Coast, Islamic writing (for the Muslims) among other writing exercises. To register/payment or inquiries contact: 0704 731 560.

P.S If you can’t attend you can sponsor someone else so they can benefit as well 🙂

Another is the event on mental health. Check the poster below:

Creative Fiction

FATE (part 2)

By Lubnah Abdulhalim July 16, 2016

Photo Courtesy : Salem_Beliegraphy

“You are still poor. Why did you come back now? Today precisely?! Just when I was leaving to UK?! Do you know what it meant to me? That scholarship?!” He snapped.

“Please forgive me my son. I came back so that I can see you, see how you’ve grown and…apologize to both you and your mum. I have countable days remaining…”

Rashid staggered out of the hut. His mum was standing there, her forehead formed lines and her eyes were squinted. She was nervously playing with her hands as if it was her judgement day. Rashid looked at her for a while before pulling a stool from the side of the hut and made his mum sit down. There was a moment of dead silence. Then he started;

“How…” he looked at her in the eyes, “how did you survive after he left?”

She sighed loudly.

“Mwanangu (my son)…You know what they say? That when you truly love someone you let them go. You let them be happy…but it’s a lie. It means making a tough choice; a selfish one. It’s either they remain happy and you don’t, or you stay happy and they don’t. It’s a sacrifice no one wants to make especially when another woman is involved…and letting him go cost us our happiness. ..” Darkness had filled the compound and all that could be heard were random voices here and there from the neighbours. Rashid could see the tears forming in his mother’s eyes. He held her hand tightly and nodded at her to go on.

“For many years after your father left, I neglected my entire life. I neglected myself. I neglected you…I neglected you Rashid. I gave up on life. I was like a dead woman walking. Like a miserable zombie. I never worked and we survived on the money that your father left behind but also that came to an end. We had rent arrears and debts from shops. We had to shift here. We were too poor, too messed up. You grew up like an orphan child yet you had your mother with you,” she rised her hand and touched his face.

Rashid swallowed a bitter lump of bile that was now on his lips. How could he forget all those days he would beg his mum to take him to school and those nights he would cry out of fear yet she would turn on her bed like she was suddenly deaf. He would push her body back and forth vigorously calling out ‘mama’…all in vain.

“Perhaps you don’t remember everything…but came the day when I carelessly left hot ashes outside the house without warning you and you stepped on them. I still remember your shriek. It was like a wake up call for me. It was a reminder that I had a son. That I had a gift from God. That I had something worth living my life for….”

“Everything changed after that incident,” she gave him a weak smile. “Your feet were horribly burnt and you couldn’t walk for almost one month. I decided to re-start again. It was not too late. It never is. I got a job in the market to help a friend sell her vegetables while she went on with her other businesses. I took you to school and we had a new life altogether. It wasn’t the best kind of life but it was the best I could offer. I worked as a tailor after that, then a house maid, then sold viazi karai (fried potatoes), mahamri and mbaazi. After that I worked as a mchoraji wa piko na henna (henna tattoing) and finally was able to get my own kibanda (small stall)….You know it all from there…”

Rashid leaned forward and hugged her quickly, picked up his bag before disappearing out of the compound without a word. He stopped by a palm tree and leaned on it to support his weak knees. His eyes were wet when he heard some footsteps coming towards him. He quickly rubbed his eyes with his arms and disappeared once again. He didn’t come back until the next day.

Rashid walked into their home compound just to see his mother in the arms of their neighbour mama Fatuma. They were vividly in tears. He fastened his steps as his breathe got heavy. They both turned around, their eyes red and tired.

“Rashid!!” Mama Fatuma said loudly, her eyes suddenly popped out like she had just seen a ghost.

“Mama…what happened?!” He said as his heart beat furiously…”did something happen to…dad?”

Rashid’s mother rushed into his arms and cried on his broad chest.

“We thought…I thought…you are gone…You have never slept outside before and you took your bag with you.”

“Rashid! I am so relieved you are back! We thought you had gone after the bus to go to UK…the bus crashed last night,” mama Fatuma said.

Rashid swallowed a rather huge lump of saliva.

“The bus crashed?!”

“Yes…we heard it on the radio this morning. 16 passengers passed away and the rest are all injured.”

“Whoa! That was a close shave!” He exclaimed as he stood still in his place; pertubed.

“Nyamaza kulia sasa mama Rashid (Stop crying now mama Rashid)…haven’t you already seen your son? He is fine Alhamdulilah,” mama Fatuma said as she dabbed her eyes with her leso and blew her nose loudly.

” I was at a friend’s place mum. I just needed…”

“It’s okay…I’m just grateful to have you back. Oh Rashid how would I live without you?!”

Rashid patted her back and led her inside the hut. She needed some rest.

Four days after, Rashid’s father passed on. Rashid sat next to his silently weeping mother throughout the funeral. He didn’t cry. Not a single tear. At least not for someone whom he considered a stranger. But there was that irresistible heart ache that was banging on his chest. Whatever the case, the deceased was still his father. Whether he liked the fact or not, he had to deal with it.

Right after burying him, an old limping man came towards him. He was leaning on his bakora as he took small but rather quick steps. His head was entirely grey which immediately gave Rashid the instinct that he could be one of his father’s associates.

“Assalam aleikum. You must be Rashid right?”

Rashid looked at him in puzzlement before replying the greeting and saying yes.

“You have really grown my son mashallah…” he said as he gave him a broad smile.

“Pardon, I haven’t recognized you.”

“You can’t remember me. You were too young. Come, come my son. I have a message from your late father.” He led him into a more silent corner and they sat on large rocks. They were quiet for a moment, staring at the scattered bushes and green grass around.

“I couldn’t risk waiting any longer to talk to you. I am very old and my grave is calling me.” The old man smiled weakly. Rashid never said a word.

“My son, once upon a time I was your father’s lawyer. I was in charge of all his dealings and his wealth. Those days your father had started building his own empire and your mother had his back always…well, that was until when Salma, his second wife appeared in his life. I believe you know about her by now?”

Rashid nodded.

“I’ll just try to cut this story short. After Salma left with all his wealth, what she didn’t know is that he had an offshore secret bank account. There was no much money in it but it was enough to make him live comfortably for a few more months or perhaps a year. But he decided that that money should be kept for you as a gift from him.”

“Strange…Why didn’t he mention that to me when we talked?”

“Because he didn’t want you to think he is buying you back. He just needed you and your mother to forgive him.”

Rashid was silent.

“Here,” the old man handed him the parcel. “This is exactly 500,000 shillings and God knows I didn’t deduct or add a single penny on it.”

“500,000?!”

“Yes.”

Rashid’s mouth was agape. He had never touched even a quarter of that amount.

“But why? He died so poor…he sold all his property to survive. Why didn’t he use this?”

“Because he regretted what he did to the only woman who sacrificed her entire life for his sake and to you…his only son. He cleared all his debts before he died and doesn’t have much left remaining, just a few clothes, shoes and such…but I will surely come to your home and deliver what is rightfully for you and your mother.”

Rashid was speechless. He stared once again at the horizon then at the skies. Perhaps trying to understand what was happening to his life.

“Son, I have done what was upon me…goodbye” he patted Rashid’s shoulder and started walking away.

“Excuse me…what is your name uncle?”

“Ibrahim…” he smiled again then continued, “I was not just your father’s lawyer, he was my childhood friend and a brother to me. Perhaps you doubt this but your father…he was a kind man; a good man. He may have made his mistakes in his youth but he really loved you, and worried about you throughout.”

“Why didn’t he ever search for me then?”

“Because he was ashamed…I hope you find it in you to forgive him. Take care of yourself son. Meet you soon in shaa Allah. ”

Rashid watched the old man limp away. He looked at the parcel in his hand and sighed loudly.

“Oh God!” He thought to himself.

He recounted all the recent events in his life; mum’s phone call, his father, the lost scholarship, the bus crash, his father’s death and then this…He could have died in the bus crash. He wouldn’t have met his father. He wouldn’t have known the truth. He would have left his mother alone. He wouldn’t have gotten this fortune. He sighed again. His mother would be shocked about the money…but this would help them greatly. Perhaps start his own business, work while he pays his own college fees. It is better to stay around with his mother. He needed her more than anything. For once, he remembered to thank God for the cancelled trip to UK. For sure better things were yet to come.

“Truly fate is full of surprises. ..” Rashid said to himself as he walked back home. He had a lot to tell her.

Creative Fiction

DEAR PAIN

By Lubnah Abdulhalim March 22, 2016

Photo Courtesy: www.ayeina.com

Dear Pain,

From the moment I was born and as I grew up, I found myself already betrothed to you. It’s strange isn’t it? How does someone get betrothed at such an age? I mean, what if I turned out to be a vampire just when I turned thirteen? Weird. But it’s more of the culture issue I guess. As far as my memories go by into the past, I remember how you were so obsessed with me. You always fancied that both our names start with ‘P’ and you would always chorus it lovingly ‘Pain and Paranoia’. You were so loving yet so bitter. You were carrying all the world’s misery on your shoulders yet you still afforded to spend time with me. You would walk hand in hand with me and you would introduce me to all your friends. I still remember your best friends; Ego, Selfish and Evil. I remember how you would praise me in front of them as if I were the only girl in this world. You wanted the whole world to know how much you loved me and that you would never depart me. I remember all those days you would take me out with your so called best friends and we would have ‘fun’. That’s what you used to tell me; ‘let’s go have fun’ yet all I remember was hearing the four of you mock people and laugh so loudly. It used to puzzle me a lot. Well, you were quite older than me so I thought maybe I didn’t really understand what this ‘fun’ really meant. For the foolish girl I was, I’d stand next to you; your hand still firmly holding mine, just staring at you and your friends.

I still remember Ego; he was TALL. Really tall that I really had to strain my neck to see his face. But he was still elegant. He was quite handsome and I used to wonder why I wasn’t betrothed to him instead. He always had his hands in his pockets and talk with a firm voice. He walked with a bounce and his head was always held high. Is that what they call confidence? I used to admire him but that was then, I was barely fifteen. At that age you barely know how to differentiate between a cheetah and a tiger. I was so naive…but now…now I know everything in this life.

Selfish was hilariously short and it really used to make me laugh at how the four of you could be best friends. I mean, your physiques were so opposite. It is the first thing anyone would notice upon seeing you together. Anyway back to selfish. Selfish was so over confident. I have never seen anyone think so high of themselves. He always wanted to get the biggest share of everything for he thought he deserves it.To me, he looked a bully. I used to see him snatch food from the beggar’s mouth. Have you ever seen anyone so cruel like that? But selfish thought he deserves it. Sometimes I used to see him look at me maliciously and it used to freak me out. He probably also thought that he should have me instead of you. Well, you never noticed all that because you were always busy praising to the world about me without looking at their reactions. Maybe you trusted them so much??

Evil…evil was ugly. Damn ugly and ironically, he used to boast about himself like there is no one on this earth like him. Everything about him was ugly; his croaky laughter and even his dark enigmatic smile. He was rough and tough. He was all the three of you combined; he was torment, torture, unpleasant and wicked all together. He always considered himself the ring leader of your group.

I still remember the night your friends raped me. Oh…how can I forget the misery that came after. How can I forget the sadness and despair? You know what pain, you always used to make me wonder which side are you really? When your best friends raped me, you were mad. So mad that it worried me you would explode. Yet you decided to cover it up for them by marrying me. You thought that would make me forget. You thought you could make me happy once again.

Years went by and I gave birth to our first child; insomnia. Oh my son…he wouldn’t let me sleep. He made me turn and roll on the bed restlessly. I cried and cried until the wee hours of the night. I cried until I had no more tears. I cried until my pillow was too wet. I cried for you; because of you, for the past, present and future. I cried that you were the only person who loved me so dearly in this life. The only person who wouldn’t leave me alone. I treated myself with lots of chocolates and bowls of ice cream. As people say, treating oneself like that is good for the stressed soul…yet this technique didn’t work for me. My boy troubled me…but where were you Pain? You were just there with me; like a shadow. Always there yet never giving me the happiness I needed.

Insomnia grew and soon we had our second child. It was a girl this time. I was so happy. I wanted to make her my best friend, teach her how to cook and how to dress up. I had so many plans for her and for us. I called her ‘eating issues’. She was so fragile and weak. She had no appetite even to live. Her eyes looked tired and she was weightless like cotton. Eating issues worried me a lot. I worried that she was going to die soon yet she still lives; still as fragile. Still as weak.

Having too troublesome kids is not easy especially when you have an obsessive husband like you Pain. Anyway, God has now blessed me with another bump. A third one is coming. I think it’s a ‘she’. Don’t ask me how I know this. I am a mother, I can feel it. I have been thinking of aborting her for quite a while now but i’m a mother after all, I don’t think I can be that cruel. I think I will name her ‘pending issues’ for she will be born whilst her mother is still worrying about how much the past will affect her future. I hope ‘pending issues’ won’t trouble me. I hope she can be my hope.

Insomnia and Eating issues have grown to be teenagers now yet each one of them is still worrying their mother in a different way. Insomnia wouldn’t let me rest and stop crying. Eating issues wouldn’t let me have a peace of mind or a healthy life. ‘Pending issues’ is soon coming by…

My dear husband; Pain, I have never really enjoyed the idea of having a man so obsessed with me. I’ve had enough of you. I want to be free once again. I want to breath fresh air once again. I want to fly and be happy. I just don’t want to live with you anymore…

I am sorry Pain…I really need a divorce from you. Please grant me that as soon as possible. I already kept the divorce papers under my pillow. My very wet pillow. I hope the papers are still safe. Please do sign them soon. If you truly love me then do it for my sake. Please. Allow me to be the free woman I’ve always wanted to be. Don’t worry about our children. I promise to take good care of them. I was also planning to change their names soon. I was thinking of calling our son, Brave instead of Insomnia. As for our daughter Eating issue, let’s call her ‘Love’ and when our last baby finally comes by, I will call her ‘Hope’. I am sure you like the names right? I know you can trust me to take care of them and raise them with good manners and health. Please do take care of yourself as well and I hope we can meet years from now where your name would then be something like ‘Delight’ or probably ‘Euphoria?’. No, ‘Jubilant’ is even better! My name then would be ‘Joy’ and you will be able to chorus our new names once again, ‘Jubilant and Joy’. I promise we will be happy then.

Before I end this heart-breaking letter, I want to really thank you for being there with me throughout; for the lessons learnt and for the undying love.

Your so-long-loving wife,
Your soon-divorcee,

Paranoia.