The Fall…

You can build a house out of sticks, but when the wind blows…

It’s been a little while (ok quite some time) since I felt the need to post here (actually I’d decided that I may fall into the trap of wallowing in self-pity, and to be honest I just didn’t have the time for all that).

So I’m still overseas. My little 3-month soujourn has been extended by another three, and I’d go on adding but unfortunately the funds have dried up. Insha’allah one day I’ll be in a position to return. I’ve thought about XH and the last three years quite a bit while I’ve been here, yet I can’t say that I’ve come to any satisfactory resolutions. I don’t think things like “Oh I wish it could all be different blah blah blah…”, it’s more a kind of nostalgia for the good times, the nice memories. While my heart still seems to incline towards him with good feelings, I know that returning (indeed it is impossible anyway) would not only be detrimental to my physical, emotional and spiritual well-being (well what’s left of it anyway), but it would also require me to sacrifice far to much of myself – no person is worth sacrificing all that is one’s self for.

So on one hand I long to be married and start a little family (which incidentally had been the plan for this year, although Allah swt is the best of planners Al-hamdoulillah) I know that there would be far to many suitcases piled up in the corner of the bedroom to make it an intelligent path to pursue right now. So I’m at, what I will call, a “lull”. Where one is meant to find peace, security and tranquility from the blessing that is reflection. But for me, reflection is just bringing the dregs up to the surface, and I’m finding it unproductive. There was one a time where I prayed for all this time to think, reflect, but now I have it I’m finding that there is not to much to reflect on. I still don’t like the person I have become, and am having difficulty fixing those things I know need to be worked on. So I’m a muddle.

While other than this the last 6-months have been oddly quiet, the last week saw the destruction of the shack I’d been constructing out of sticks. My mother told me 4 days ago that my Dad has left. Now there is a history here, so let’s not all jump on the “all-men-are-bastards” bandwagon. While I’ve kind of known for many years that things may not continue the way they have always been, I don’t think I seriously (really seriously, like with my heart) considered that it would actually happen. While I know that it *may* be the best situation for them, I can’t help but think that it’s possibly not the brightest thing to do given the stage of life they are both at, and the current conditions around the world. I know, I know, a world economic crisis is not the best reason to stay married, but it sure as hell makes more sense to consolidate assets rather than divide them at this point. So begins the tedious and painful discussions about who will live where. Kheir insha’allah. I’m finding things a little hard to come to terms with (in case you can’t tell), but then I am ½ way around the world.

So, in short, my perfectly assembled stick house on the sand has crumbled and I no longer have somewhere safe to sit and watch and wait for my little boat to come in. I know I should speak to someone (professional) about how I’m feeling – if for no other reason than so that I don’t take my luggage with me if I ever get married again myself – but it’s hard to find someone (not to marry, to talk to).