These past few years have been hard. I’ve been hurt in the most basic way possible by the people I trusted most. It took me a long time to come to terms with what they’d done, what they’d continue to do if I gave them the chance. At first, I rebelled against them. But what I didn’t realize was that in doing so, I rebelled against myself. I questioned, doubted, and felt resentment. And, when I couldn’t come to terms with it, I hated. For the first time in my life, I actually felt hatred.
I’ve never questioned my heart before. I’ve always believed in the good of people, of humankind. I believed in the futraa of human beings. Feeling hate, however, changed my heart. It morphed and twisted into this other… thing. Foreign. Hard and bitter. Cynical, even. I recently had the chance to talk to someone I hadn’t talked to in a long time. Pre-hurt and -hate. He couldn’t believe what I’d become. He told me, like only few people can, that I used to be different. He seen through the facade of optimism and smiles and he seen my heart. And for the first time in a long time, I cried.
After that it was like all the hate died. But it didn’t leave a whole heart behind, a heart that could feel and love and go on like nothing had happened. It left behind a ravaged, devastated organ. I feel like the recipient of a heart transplant. Like there’s this foreign thing inside my body I can’t quite come to terms with. I can literally feel a gaping hole where my heart once was. It doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t feel joy or pleasure. It’s changed me, in a fundamental way. Mainly, I’ve lost all ability to trust. I’ve become suspicious. I see threats and ill-wishes in the faces of those I love most. Those I know love me. And people pick up on it – I can see it in their eyes. They can see that I can’t and won’t trust them. And it scares them off, and I’m left alone. In a cycle of mistrust and wariness.
I want the old me back; my old heart.
And I believe it’s possible. But it’s going to take a long time. And it’s going to require me to trust. To feel. And most of all, to fight for what they took from me: my faith. In myself and in the good of humankind. InshAllah.
If this weren’t so serious, I’d call it my new year resolution. But it’s so much more than that. This is me picking up the pieces and fighting for who I am. And this post is proof, so one day, God willing, I can say: That is what was. This is what is.