DAY FIFTY ONE of Aye.

Why don’t I journal a bit.

I have a great energy in my mind that feels stuck because I feel hidden in my apartment or lack of ‘word’ or purpose that gives my life function and meaning. Although I should remind myself that most people feel that. No no. Most people who are fortunate enough to have time and wording to even consider meaning to their existence and who are genuine about it feel that.

What it means to be genuine though. let me rephrase it. What it means to be genuine?

Am I being genuine to myself? Am I using all of my means to become who I wanna be. Aren’t I stuck with the concept of ‘who I wanna be and  what I expect from life ‘ and make it vague enough to escape it so that I do not judge myself. 

I did take care of myself this year. Sometimes by going for a walk. Sometimes through skincare. Sometimes through studying. Sometimes through crying.

And I let myself go into the rabbit hole of internet, shopping ideas and relationship problems that mostly belong to the future if not at all. I have a great amount of fear. I envy most of the successful people, their persistence, their beauty in their own way, their work, their confidence. Even those whose work I morally judge, I respect their sense of worth in this tiny miny multifaceted world. 

It is a challenge to be alive. It is. It is a challenge to take an original perspective on life that will either change the course or change the mind according to the course so that..we can be fulfilled and appreciative of what God has given us. 

I feel responsible but I have immense struggle with acting responsibly. I know, I am not alone in this. It takes courage and God knows the last big decision I made was to get married and come here to Texas and it sometimes feels like it consumed all the courage I have. 

Will I have a better life if I regain that courage? I know I will not get better if I don’t. 

I am trying to prepare my mind and body to adjust to that hustle. That invisible, seemless, soundless, ordinary or even banal hustle to find courage. And I fall so quickly, so randomly and so blissfully. Falling makes me feel alive because getting up and moving on does not provide as quick a result as falling. Falling means a sad and a mediocre appreciation to what I can find as a means to an effort to live.

I have worked on my mind and body, and I have come to think that they share more in common than the important third party: my soul. 

Now, I don’t wanna get all threefold on ‘being human’, God knows I would not be sincerely doing that. But I do think I have neglected my soul because it requires the hardest and the most intricate work. I am afraid what might come if I work on my soul, I am afraid to fail. I am afraid that the pain will not go away just like that. I am afraid I will not be fulfilled and forgiven at the same time. 

Before even two weeks, the mont of Ramadan is coming. I have just been telling my husband to focus on the moment and try to master that moment as much as possible regardless of how we darken the past by exaggerated memories of failure and how scared we are from the future becoming a constant disappointment in succession. The fact is the past is not ‘that bad’ and the future is unknown in a good way. 

I know I need goals. I need soulful goals. Yet (though, not exactly ‘yet’) I need them to be in sync with my goals for my mind and body. 

For body it is rather easy. I have been doing intermittent fasting for month now so except the factor of jet lag, fasting should be easy,

 and more than that healthy for my body. 

But I need my mind to do the work and make me sleep when I do not want to, make me take that walk when I try to trick myself into a depressive fatigue. I know now. I just need to rely on my mind’s parenting skills. 

Will fasting heal my soul? In a way, it already has. Will Ramadan heal my soul, that is the question. It is about the Qur’an. Will I surrender and submit to Qur’an. 

I have been obsessively consuming productivity tips and things as such, as a means t o get out of depression and motivate myself and those become a huge influence in the way I go up and down in my mind. 

But all these people I have been following, in the end, what are they calling for is defined by me. I have to decide myself that what do I want to be productive for, and where do I find reward and how do I want to express my needs and carry or delay those rewards. In the end, it comes down to what kind of a person I am, and what kind of a person I’d like to become and who will decide what is good for me. God already knows what is good for me and what I can’t or what I can do. Will I make my belief and practice strong enough to let Him be the source of courage I am lacking? Will I allow me to try anything to understand Him better and make the question of ‘who I wanna become’ a question towards his guidance. 

I understand now that, after months of meditation and self-destruction and a misery that was created from within… I understand that those sunglasses I want to buy (I still wanna buy them), that anti-aging face I so desperately look up to, that writer who has great command in language, and those productivity tips will not make me the way I am supposed to be. I need a make-over but not that is recommended my ‘feed’. 

Why am I so afraid by the possibility of simplicity that my story can evolve into? Why I cherish the noise even though it diminishes me? When I am going to accept that ‘becoming’ is not a daily clear cut event but it is a process and it only dies with us?

I want to make this Ramadan about acceptance of my inabilities and my abilities through a trust in God. I want it to be about the simplicity and banality that I am so afraid of, that I have made a monster of. 

Last year, I have made humanness and enemy and I only fought the war with myself -and my husband when he was on my way-. It was ugly. The way I treated ‘being human’ was ugly. It was not called for, but it happened. I did not ask for it but it blurted out from me. 

Everything happens for a reason. My struggle to commitment has finally haunted me at the age of 25. This, also happened for a reason that I might not be fully aware of. 

Yet, I want this moment, to be a testimony of belief, to remind me that I find meaning in effort (that I fail to make the most out of), yes, but I believe that meaning is by God, and -basically- as Alim, as Hakeem, He knows what He is doing even though I sometimes might not. I also want this to be a concrete intention to give my soul the push to face its belief system, to allow it to be a ‘whole’ that has scars and punctures on it. Perfection is not an option, but trying my best, is. (Expressing) vulnerability is ok and strong enough, not acknowledging what my problem is, not.

So.

Bismillah.