On turning 36

 

This is probably long overdue, but I haven't had the time to write. Turning 36 this year felt like a quiet transition, but in an explosive way. No grand celebration, no gift unboxing videos, just a normal day where I went to work, went home and slept. Perhaps it's also the realisation of whether you mattered. 

In fact, a day that I thought would've been special for me was rather sad. I cried a lot that day. I cried because I had been so hard on myself, and I let so many people walk all over me just because I didn't have the energy to fight back. Like, what's the point of fighting back when, in the end, we'll all turn into dust anyway? The world is so temporary that holding on to a grudge feels so useless. I would admit my mistakes and apologise, and hopefully I'd learn my lesson and not repeat it again in the future, but to be disrespected over and over again? That's enough. I know my limit too. I guess that's why I cried so much, because I should've protected myself more instead of letting someone else's emotion become my priority. 

Suddenly, everything becomes quiet. It seems like Allah has slowly removed people from my life and let me focus on myself again. Perhaps Allah knows that I've been hurt so many times that I should let my wound heal. 36 is a moment of paying attention to my surroundings and allowing myself to properly process before reacting. 

For everything that I have been labelled this year - could be a liar, traitor, irresponsible, messy, fat or an attention seeker- I wished for a moment you could walk in my shoes. I wished you understood why I wanted so badly to die. I wished you knew being 36 didn't make me happy; I'm exhausted. I wished my mother never woke me up during that flood, and I could've just drowned in my sleep. Maybe that would've been better than meeting or knowing me at all. 

So however 36 is going to unfold... I'll try my best anyway.