Ups and Downs
To young ones, ups and downs sound fun, until they learn what that means.
Ups and downs in our life can really hurt us. One day we'll be feeling so great, and another we'll feel so alone and depressed. I know that firsthand. When I was younger, I passionately hated the idea of depression, because I had the idea that only dramatic girly girls got depressed and had emotional breakdowns. And I stayed true to my rules for a few years, playing it cool every time I was emotionally hurt. However, as the years passed, I discovered that I, through several trials and tests, was also a dramatic girly girl. I found myself crying in my solitude and smiling among company. The worst part about it all was, nobody cared enough to notice. But that was fine with me, because I didn't want to attract attention and make a big deal out of nothing. Besides, every time it was the same thing: feeling worthless and unwanted. I didn't want to bother anymore trying to fix it because every time I opened up, I did not find any help. I always fumbled with my words when someone actually came to talk with me about my feelings. That annoyed me. I was so surprised that I no longer felt like the happy, cheerful, talkative person I once was. The person everyone liked. Nobody liked the Nura with problems. Nobody was willing to bring back the Nura with a free soul.
Let's face it. No matter how emotionally strong we think we are, something will always hurt us inside. I was actually having a great life until a couple of years back, when I had to move here. Moving here meant a lot of things; leaving the home I had gotten so used and attached to; abandoning my community which felt like family; and worst of all, ditching my little baby sister. My best friend. I swear, nobody understands the bond between best friends unless they have a best friend themselves. I sometimes (actually, always) wish my parents had never gone to Hajj and abandoned us for three weeks. If they hadn't gone, they would never have met their Hajj buddies, and they would never have known that they live in Dallas, and they would never have been more motivated to move to Texas if they had never met their friends. I found it unfair how right after my parents found friends, that they thought it was okay to just follow them and let their kids - or child, in this matter - cry for years about being torn away from her best friend for what seemed like forever. That's just not fair! But what annoyed me most was that I knew Texas had better things for me. I knew it had a bigger, somewhat better and more active Muslim community. I knew there were more opportunities for the youth. I knew it all. But I tried to deny it. I wasn't about to just up and ditch everyone. My home. My family. How could I? I loved them all so much. A friend told me to look at the move as a new opportunity. Another friend told me I would find new friends. But my best friend still clung to me, and I to her.
"I won't be funny without Nura," she had told me. I could tell she was on the verge of tears. I knew it.
"Yes you will," I tried to comfort her.
The night before I left home, our squad gathered together. A group of six, three pairs of sisters. In the darkness, lit by the dim light of the masjid. Everyone was about to leave. I gave my best friend a hug. Then another friend started to give me a hug, but my best friend jumped in. The other friend was about to protest, but then everyone squeezed each other into a group hug. It was the first group hug our squad had ever done. And possibly the last. I didn't know if I was going to see those people ever again after that night.
And I didn't. Not until two years later. Not until a glorious weekend full of spending time with my best friend. But that is a different story for another time.
Now, two years later, I find myself still clinging to the past. I still can't find the good in being separated from my best friend. But I know that Allah has a plan for me, and I feel assured that He will reunite me with my best friend. Everything will be great again. She'll be happy again. I'll be happy again.
One day.
Ups and downs in our life can really hurt us. One day we'll be feeling so great, and another we'll feel so alone and depressed. I know that firsthand. When I was younger, I passionately hated the idea of depression, because I had the idea that only dramatic girly girls got depressed and had emotional breakdowns. And I stayed true to my rules for a few years, playing it cool every time I was emotionally hurt. However, as the years passed, I discovered that I, through several trials and tests, was also a dramatic girly girl. I found myself crying in my solitude and smiling among company. The worst part about it all was, nobody cared enough to notice. But that was fine with me, because I didn't want to attract attention and make a big deal out of nothing. Besides, every time it was the same thing: feeling worthless and unwanted. I didn't want to bother anymore trying to fix it because every time I opened up, I did not find any help. I always fumbled with my words when someone actually came to talk with me about my feelings. That annoyed me. I was so surprised that I no longer felt like the happy, cheerful, talkative person I once was. The person everyone liked. Nobody liked the Nura with problems. Nobody was willing to bring back the Nura with a free soul.
Let's face it. No matter how emotionally strong we think we are, something will always hurt us inside. I was actually having a great life until a couple of years back, when I had to move here. Moving here meant a lot of things; leaving the home I had gotten so used and attached to; abandoning my community which felt like family; and worst of all, ditching my little baby sister. My best friend. I swear, nobody understands the bond between best friends unless they have a best friend themselves. I sometimes (actually, always) wish my parents had never gone to Hajj and abandoned us for three weeks. If they hadn't gone, they would never have met their Hajj buddies, and they would never have known that they live in Dallas, and they would never have been more motivated to move to Texas if they had never met their friends. I found it unfair how right after my parents found friends, that they thought it was okay to just follow them and let their kids - or child, in this matter - cry for years about being torn away from her best friend for what seemed like forever. That's just not fair! But what annoyed me most was that I knew Texas had better things for me. I knew it had a bigger, somewhat better and more active Muslim community. I knew there were more opportunities for the youth. I knew it all. But I tried to deny it. I wasn't about to just up and ditch everyone. My home. My family. How could I? I loved them all so much. A friend told me to look at the move as a new opportunity. Another friend told me I would find new friends. But my best friend still clung to me, and I to her.
"I won't be funny without Nura," she had told me. I could tell she was on the verge of tears. I knew it.
"Yes you will," I tried to comfort her.
The night before I left home, our squad gathered together. A group of six, three pairs of sisters. In the darkness, lit by the dim light of the masjid. Everyone was about to leave. I gave my best friend a hug. Then another friend started to give me a hug, but my best friend jumped in. The other friend was about to protest, but then everyone squeezed each other into a group hug. It was the first group hug our squad had ever done. And possibly the last. I didn't know if I was going to see those people ever again after that night.
And I didn't. Not until two years later. Not until a glorious weekend full of spending time with my best friend. But that is a different story for another time.
Now, two years later, I find myself still clinging to the past. I still can't find the good in being separated from my best friend. But I know that Allah has a plan for me, and I feel assured that He will reunite me with my best friend. Everything will be great again. She'll be happy again. I'll be happy again.
One day.
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