The problem I have now:
I want to keep things truthful, raw.
Also, I want to keep my private life, as private as a person who loves sharing can.
Everyone tells you before you get married that marriage isn’t easy. But they don’t tell you WHY it isn’t easy. No one tells you what kind of challenges you’ll face.
They don’t tell you that your spouse isn’t going to do every single thing you want them to do every single day for the rest of your li- what’s that? They’re not supposed to do that? That’s not a thing? That’s obvious? Oh. Sorry. Never mind. Scratch that people, apparently your spouse is supposed to challenge you sometimes and it’s boring if they don’t. Got it.
They don’t tell you that you’ll want to spend time apart and how neither of you will know how much time is the right amount of time to spend apart.
They don’t tell you that they make you insufferably angry or sad and how deeply you can feel your love for them through those things.
They don’t tell you that your body is no longer just YOUR body. They don’t tell you that your spouse is your resting place. That your spouse is the place you’re safe from the storm that is the world.
We never scream at each other, or swear at each other, and that is my favourite thing about us: the respect. And whenever my voice raises too many octaves and my face heats up and I throw a tantrum…
I tell him it’s shaytaan (satan) and that shaytaan doesn’t want us to be married and in love and happy. And my husband gives me the smallest smile and takes my hand, I feel forgiveness in his touch.
They don’t tell you that your love language has everything to do with the way you love and the way you don’t love. They don’t tell you that if you aren’t loved in the right way you don’t feel loved at all.
Thank god we’re both physically affectionate people. Maybe the most annoying thing about me – that annoys me, not anyone else – is even when I’m angry upset distraught, I still want to be held. I never say no to his strong arms.
Every argument ends with an “I’m sorry”
I don’t even have any pride to swallow.
I just want to be okay as soon as possible
To fix the mistake immediately
Doesn’t matter whose mistake it is
We’re inseparable [insha’Allah]
This year I learnt a new meaning to the word “petty” I transformed into an old Indian aunty. Well, we both did.
To say that we drifted apart after I got married is a gross understatement. We seemed to be on opposite ends of an ocean of words we suddenly couldn’t say to each other. The distance felt awkward and wrong and …lonely. There was constant underlying thought that things would work out but I missed her and she was missing out on things that I wanted to share with her and I was missing out on things she might have wanted to share with me. we thought…that we both just needed time to adjust
But there was no time to adjust. I had met and married my husband in just over a month. In that month, she and I were closer than ever
I must point out at some point that the reason Fieka and I got along the way we did was not only because we just clicked but also because we had the same kind of strict parents. So when it was announced that just before my wedding that she would be sleeping at my house –We were overjoyed
And this sleepover was exactly what I had been pining over these last eight months of passive-aggressive arguing. What happened? How did it happen? When did I become so stubborn? When did she become so stubborn??
Why was it so difficult to talk to this girl who knew (literally) everything about me? but it’s not like we didn’t try.
Third times the charm though, we met up and
it immediately felt like a mistake.
Until we both admitted our mistakes.
There were tears. A lot of them rolled down my face without my permission. But it felt good to cry with her. Cathartic almost.
She called me names and I laughed. She said it felt good to say those things to my face and I laughed again. And in all this I found my friend again. The one who was more family to me than some of my family.
I turned 21
Ps. I took all these pictures and all the pictures of me were taken by my new photographer: Rafeeqah Hamdulay
love you kid.