A wise blogger once wrote, “To write is to be vulnerable. There’s no way around it. Writing is exposing a bit of yourself to the world, and it’s not always pretty either. But through my writing, I am able to grow. I am able to embrace vulnerability, harness it, and absorb it. It’s not comfortable. Sometimes it’s painful. And it’s always a gamble.
But no matter what the outcome is, you are better and stronger than if you chose to remain comfortable.”
To supplement the above quote, I’d like to add that I discover myself through writing.
Here goes to being ‘Vulnerable’…
Yesterday, by the will of Allah, I attended my cousin’s small gathering of a wedding. Mashallah, I can’t imagine anyone asking for anything more. Purely halal weddings are always delightful due to the Barakah in the air.
…
Fellow Readers, I’ve either stated that I AM DIFFERENT or you may have even drawn this conclusion on your own with labels like ‘weird.’ So, inshallah the following point will reinforce that which we believe to be true. Okay. So, as much as I am happy for my cousin, her newly wedded husband, and their families, internally, I was going crazy. By default, I place myself in other’s shoes. Subhanallah. As reflective as these placements can be, I dislike the emotional baggage.
I was her. Despite, sitting in front of family and friends of my choosing, I couldn’t help but imagine having all eyes on me. I mean is it even okay to be the center of attention? How long will I smile for others before I get drained? How many people would shoot terrible statements about me and my big day? Many. Who do I know will go above and beyond for me? No one. Who do I know that would say something remotely decent about me? I predict strangers would speak better of me than individuals in my life. And I say that because strangers do not know me. So, all the strangers that have said, “he would be one lucky guy” goes without regards.
Afterward, I was him. Subhanallah, whoever he may be, I am so happy for him. Subhanallah, anyone who knows my cousin, knows how sweet and caring she is. Hence, in his and our eyes, he was undeniably lucky. Now, if I was her and there was a ‘him’ to begin with, that would be an unfortunate case. I know many that would be rather sympathetic towards ‘him’ including myself. What poor soul deserves an untold burden? None.
Being many things, I can’t point out what sequence of events led up to this self-sacrificing version of myself. Maybe, I am a 20+ year old child who needs to get with the program. Perhaps, I am still broken. Nevertheless, this is Jihad. And the question remains, have I given up? If not, what’s my next move?
We live to change. And Allah knows best.
Words of a Ramadan Addict 