Eastern European Muslim

I have been feeling quite miserable lately. I felt that the system failed me. The community failed me. I did everything that was preached and taught, yet my life went from not moving forward to being completely destroyed. I felt it's just not fair. Why are we constantly told to be patient and not warned about how to spot the things we do not and should not be patient about? Why are we advised to give 70 excuses and not told to stop at the 71st as that would be self destruction? Why is it that we are taught that the best way to ask for help is when we still believe in reconciliation and then being left alone and not given any help? Why do advisors think "solve it yourself" is an advice? And at the end when you tried your utmost and are left with no other choice, why is it that the nicest people are surprised at your decision? Why do advisors use blame, responsibility and feelings to make you doubt your own God given rights? And at the end, how can they agree wi

I have moved a lot, changed workplaces and circumstances a lot and it always meant to meet new people, to make new acquaintances, to adapt new situations. For me it always meant having a new persona. A new part of my personality, the outside person whom I created step by step by carefully checking the people, the atmosphere for what will and what will not be accepted. To a certain extent it may be fine, obviously no one wants to be known as the loud one or the crazy one (not like I have ever been close to these), and it's good to respond to the requirements of the environment. But my main focus was on them and this "persona" did not start from who I am. And to be honest, it was basically not different from the "good girl at school" who's main issue is not to be too visible - except at the few special places where they knew who I am before I knew it. The fact is, sad as it is, that before I become a 43 year old divorcee in an economically unstable

When I lost my sister الله يرحمها more than 2 and a half years ago I realised that life is not a fairy tale. This life on earth will never be perfect, because she is not here. It is full of trials and tests, never ending problems when you feel like it doesn't make any sense. After a few years of continuing troubles you just get the  sensation that this life is only a place of suffering. A grey world where the only ray of light is the time we get to spend with those we love. These are not weeks of holidays in fancy places, just a few minutes we get to talk about something deep. Otherwise it's just a series of challenges that only end with us exiting this world. I have concluded that the nature of this life is in fact suffering.  I have already mentioned that getting closer to myself means finding my friends from long ago. I have met a wonderful sister, a beautiful woman inside and out who I haven't spoken to for many years. She told her story that brought tears i

Haram police, I'm sorry, but well, divorce is halal. It's never a good choice. It's never something you do as something you like. It's never what you planned. It hurts and disrupts lives. But sometimes that's what you need to do. To save those who belong to you, to save your mental health - or even more than that. The first thing we need to prepare ourselves for is to be strong and firm in our decision. Obviously it starts with istikhara. We need to recognise red flags and distinguish naivety from genuine positive expectations. Yes, we wait for the best, but if we have been forsaken multiple times, we need to look into the possibility that a certain behaviour is not the result of outer factors but is among the characteristics of our significant other. It's hard to face these issues and it takes a lot of time and consideration. But once we have taken our decision we need to honour it as it is not a joke, it is a serious issue, based on a commitment t

"Did you write it about me?" - said my friend with tears in her sparkling blue eyes that still carried all the enthusiasm I have always known her for but also a deep sadness. She referred to my piece "My three friends and other women". "I had no idea about you, darling" - I told her surprised. Then she started to speak about all the humiliation and suppression she had to endure the past years. "There's also her" she told me about another friend who had recently divorced, with very strong reasons "and actually there are many more couples peacemakers are attending regularly nowadays." My first reaction was: "why?" Why do peacemakers attend couples of 10+, 20+ years, explaining the unexplainable, sticking to the letters of the law while gaslighting women's feelings and inducing guilt in them? Actually, wrong question. Wrong and naive. Why? Because that's what's convenient for men. They realised this is

First time I recognised it was at the birth of my second child. I had a female doctor back with my first delivery too, but that was completely different. I felt surrendered to outer forces. My husband at my head telling me which supplications to say and my doctor, an older, respectable lady at my legs, telling me when to breathe and to push. And there I was, in the middle, just following orders while an immeasurable pain was tearing me apart. It was followed by two years of untreated depression and utter emotional neglect and my only happiness was the smile of my child. My second baby was born in a very different way. I was alone. My soon (well, officially 2 more years) to be ex husband was already gone for months and I had to leave the apartment we were living in. We moved to a southern town to my mother's small house and I gave birth in a country hospital where I knew the head of the neonatology and pediatric departments. That was a privilege but without husband, with

As I have mentioned it earlier in the blog, shortly after I got my diagnosis, I ended up in a very low place spiritually. A person who is of course not perfect, for whom I will always be grateful for teaching me so much and whom I respect a lot told me, most probably to make me less worried in an already difficult situation, that we can't be more merciful than God, so I shouldn't worry about the future of my children whatever would happen. It put me in a position where I felt that life goes on with or without me and there was basically no need for me to fight for my health. Allah deals with everything and everybody better than I, so I should not stand in the way.  Later I managed to gather my pieces and was able to pray for healing as a special gift or favour from God, as He is The Most Kind, The Most Merciful and He is Able to do all things. So I begged Him to save me, even though there's no need for me, and there are so many more terrible things happening to p

My three dear sisters.  You told me about men who lack the sense of real intimacy and can't look into a woman's eyes. Who can't plan life together as they consider setting up a life - even without any sort of planning - to be their own privilege. Who substitute the sense of bonding with outer control, dictated by their own random choices. And you my dears try to support. To follow. To be the only solid base during this earthquake. You stay because you trust them. Because you think about others just like you see yourself - they definitely want the best for all of us, they are honest. In your beautiful minds there's no place for concepts like selfishness, going towards the smaller opposition, using people, taking them for granted and so on. You do it for years. For decades. You set aside your expectations about an ideal life, find explanations and excuses even for the unforgivable and just put out the fire every single day. The fire that would burn your home,

What my passage is about - not only the words but also this chapter in my life - to free my soul. One's soul is one's real self that senses oneself, understands their role in the world and recognises the things it belongs to. Even though my parents did everything they could to raise us with love and support and care, they are themselves children who grew up in a dictatorial system. And dictatorship destroys souls because that's how it can control masses, if they are soulless zombies blindly following orders. That's how children are raised or better say trained since kindergarten in these countries. So I didn't have connections to my soul as it was closed inside a dark room. I had very close connection to places and people that reminded me of my soul. Italy, South of France, Yemen and first and foremost my sister. I think it was the moment I lost her that catapulted me into a space where I had no reference point. There was no one who knew who I was, only

The wounds hit by the dimension gate  Are deep in my stomach I'm laying down motionless Trying to perceive every single piece of my aching body And grateful soul  I'm alive Thank God I survived crossing the stargate However I have suffered serious injuries Due to the nuclear explosion during crossing through But I'm here now On the other side I'm in my new life On the path of full trust in God  And total acknowledgement of myself  I will fly like never before Just like a phoenix 

Tumors form from the unlistened feelings and emotions inside us. I have just started to discover the process of freeing my soul from the chains of the suppressive society and embrace her with all the pain she is bearing. Washing her wounds gently, taming her slowly, step by step, to learn about being loved. What is she trying to tell me?  A friend, a sister who has already walked through the path of this sickness before shared her insights with me. We both realised that cancer came at a point where, although at different circumstances, the "good girl syndrome" was not sustainable anymore.  She spoke to me about how to heal. To be determined and to choose healing. To choose life. To choose future. To choose life and everything in it. Indeed, to make choices every single day and to declare fearlessly who you are.  She also said that she heard somewhere that to forgive and not to hold grudges against anyone frees you as anger hurts and destroys you more.  I listened

It's time to rewrite history. Arrived at the end of May from a place where I was happy and strong. Getting the diagnosis that doesn't only change the plans for the following months but might as well include deadly danger. I froze from fear. It's all too similar. Except that now it's much more serious. A rollercoaster of events. The life I had built up step by step is taken away from me, one by one. My health, my plans, my trusted source of support. I'm in a whirlwind and barely have time for desperation.  It is a force much stronger than I could control. I cry, I try to hold on for a while, but it's so overwhelming that honesty I can only admire it.  If a sickness returns, the reality is that it has never healed completely.  The trauma response I gave last time was not effective to my healing.  It was the way I got sick.  I was the good little girl trying to please everyone in order to be accepted and thus gain her right to exist.  Having my health,

Everything is growing. New, modern houses emerge from places where there was once nothing but rubble. Old houses are being renewed by their new owners who appreciate their values - you see mosaic doorways, colourful front door windows, sophisticated colour paints and terracotta vases by the doors. It's the same place yet the air talks about new life here. It was once a dirty suburb - now it is a modern residential area for families and professionals where they can plan their future. The place has not stayed the way it was long ago. It managed to take the tide and to transform itself into a new quality. It did get outside help (the nearby Olympics nearly a decade ago poured new investment into the area) but it didn't stop there. Walthamstow reinvented itself as a new centre of humane living for all. Multicultural, definitely, but it's not even an issue anymore. It's for the people. How did it happen? How did this dirty, boring, sometimes even depressing area become a co

As we have entered the last third of Ramadan, the heaviness this Ramadan brought has vanished and has been replaced by a new force of doing all possible. This Ramadan has been the most difficult so far of all the 19 years with late hours, my son also fasting and morning schoolruns. Or maybe because since I have realised that life is not a creamy cake I had one Ramadan I was pregnant with severe iron deficiency so obviously I didn't fast, and last year Ramadan was in lockdown, and it was all about discovering how easy life could be... But now here we are, with my adolescent complaining about Ramadan being a race with time with no time to relax and why Allah wants us to suffer and I know it's not the point but I also find it difficult to feel the sweetness of Ramadan like all the previous years. When I lived my life in a comfortable lukewarm lie - that was increasingly becoming uncomfortable and cold. Then after "loss of lives, wealth and fruits" I found myself sitting

  There is a hadith, it’s one of my favourites: عن أبي هريرة -رضي الله عنه- مرفوعًا: "المؤمن القوي، خيرٌ وأحب إلى الله من المؤمن الضعيف، وفي كلٍّ خيرٌ، احْرِصْ على ما ينفعك، واسْتَعِنْ بالله ولا تَعْجِزْ، وإن أصابك شيء، فلا تقل لو أني فعلت كان كذا وكذا، ولكن قل قَدَرُ الله وما شاء فعل، فإن لو تفتح عمل الشيطان".   [صحيح.] - [رواه مسلم.] Abu Hurayrah (may Allah be pleased with him) reported that the Messenger of Allah (may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him) said: "A strong believer is better and dearer to Allah than a weak believer, and there is good in both. Adhere to whatever brings you benefit, seek the help of Allah, and do not feel helpless. If something befalls you, do not say: 'Had I done such-and-such, it would be such-and-such.' Indeed,'if' opens the way before the devil to act."   Sahih/Authentic. - [Muslim] In another translation it doesn’t say: don’t feel helpless, but “don’t stand there with your hands tied” I imagined it as wear

Many times when I talk to people who suffered from dictatorial abuse, after they have been familiar with the problem itself, they blame themselves for their behaviour or actions, even though these are the direct consequences of the issue. They may say things like "I was so stupid putting myself last" or "how could I believe it to those who didn't understand me" and so on. Knowing now what would have been the best way then is already a great step forward. We also need to accept that at a particular point in the past we did not have the knowledge and ability to behave that way. We need to go back to our soul and understand the phase they were at the time.  Most probably they were still tied up blindfolded in the wet cellar. Could we question anyone in that state why they couldn't dance pirouettes? If we blame our soul, we will be on the side of the suppressors. They made the soul unable to do it right, then accuse them for it. Pure cruelty. What we can do inst

Utazunk, felszáll a repülő - kívülről látjuk a házunkat Kellemetlen, mert látjuk a hibáit Felszabadító, mert látjuk, hogy nem a miénk az egyetlen Típus hibák, nem mi vagyunk az egyetlen.  Mérgező szülőkről szól egy egyébként nagyon hasznos könyv - de a legtöbb esetben inkább mérgezett szülőkről beszélhetünk. Igen, valószínűleg rajtuk keresztül jutott hozzánk sok negativitás, de ők is ebben részesültek, nem tudták volna máshogy csinálni.  Ha pedig a szülők részéről minden rendben van, ott van a mérgezett bölcsőde, óvoda, iskola, munkahely, utca, BKV, nyaralás…  Egy mondat a zsarnokságról "mert zsarnokság van az óvodákban, az apai tanácsban, az anya mosolyában, abban, ahogy a gyermek dadog az idegennek, ahogy, mielőtt súgtál, hátrafordultál, nemcsak a szögesdrótban, nemcsak a könyvsorokban szögesdrótnál is jobban bénító szólamokban;"...  Kv du. - Allahhal való kapcsolat - szeretet legmagasabb foka = "Imádat" Inkább ezt hangsúlyozzuk, mint a tiszteletet  Tisztelet - fé

I understood the whole picture I guess... About heart and soul and the rest Your soul is you.  That was chained and blindfolded and closed into a cold and wet cellar. Not by your parents - I mean most probably they led you and chained you there, but not because they were bad people, just because they were slaves and were doing everything following orders. Their souls are also chained in other mouldy cellars and are most probably dead now - even if they are still around. The system they grew up in made slaves of them by depriving them of their ability to choose between right and wrong, to recognise the truth and everything that belongs to them. It killed their souls.  They were left crying hungry, wet and cold so they learned to neglect their senses. They are alien in their bodies.  They are not shown love, they were gaslit into believing that they were not lovable. That made them beg for love and acceptance in exchange for anything they had. They were made to feel that in order to be g

More than twenty years ago I spent one of my most self defining years in Italy. I was a volunteer at a country hostel, helping a lot in the kitchen - that’s where I first learned to cook. I didn’t only learn the recipes but also that you need to add a pinch of love to every dish, as the cook was an extraordinary lady. Whoever she looked at, she saw their hearts. Once a guest entered the kitchen asking about lunch. They started talking and after two minutes, she told him the major events of her whole life in a nutshell. He left and I looked at her astonished. “How could you do that?” I asked. “What?” She didn’t quite understand what I found strange about her behaviour. Then I explained to her that my first thought about sharing anything about my life is that people would judge it, they would have negative opinions about it and about me in general. Now she was surprised. “Why would anyone think anything bad about you?” Then and there, being eighteen, drying my shrunken wings in the sun f