Since the ce@$ef!re, I have been processing everything from late 2023. I am tired.

Today is the day I have to put some of the weight down. I haven’t published what I’ve written but today I’m forcing myself, as this is how I’m able to take a small and singular deep breath to heal this one little part of me. (Read about shareability theory, which proposes that through sharing of information / communication, we reorganize internal knowledge into a more consciously available form of knowing.)

Full moon, Venus in retrograde; the week had been building to today, two months leading to this week.

I could not do this while the gen0(!de was ongoing. I was too scared of what I would see and I did not have the strength to face the finds. I only had the ability for softness; and so shuttered the unkindness until the ce@$ef!re. I had no resilience to face even the mere idea of more loss.

I wrote so much over the last two months. I wrote and processed alone so I would not let my switchblade tongue carve others who would not behave as they do were they not already in pain.

I will not harm.

I had to put names to actions and behaviours, one being: gaslighting. Being gaslit about a moment around which I recall every breath and movement and action leading up to and then away from. Fuck. Fuck how the thought of that dents me still, no matter the visceral force of my very warranted response which that attempt brought forward.

When it happened, I could see it for what it was immediately. Though I couldn’t name it – gaslighting – my body recoiled at the depth of its cruelty and what it said about the individual whom I had trusted so deeply.

Especially as some months later, new information would latch itself onto this one-time-and-never-again choice of behaviour, and etch deeper what it said about the one who gaslit me. But still, G@za left me with no resilience and I was in the thick of its trauma; I could not detach.

I am exhausted by the knowing and now the naming of events. But I will never harm. I understand I understand I understand.

I understand their behaviour.
I forgave it, though it marked me.
I am not a woman you gaslight.
I will not harm; I ask that Allah keep me from spaces which would trigger my instinct to bare these teeth ever again.

The information disclosed some months later left me with no more softness towards which I might turn. The very particular and unique gentleness which had grown so organically, and to my own surprise, was suddenly entirely razed. The Universe said Girl, absolutely not.

Parts of me no longer remain. The parts of me that trusted, the parts of me that needed to believe in the softness and the gentleness. Anything but the gen0(!de, my nervous system demanded.

If any of these moments were real, then may Allah let them find me again in another body which is truth-forward and which guards the peace of my heart, and the calm of my nervous system as I will theirs.

Safety is not just physical. It is having come true that the person whom we have chosen to trust will behave with integrity.

We are all so fragile, please behave with integrity.

Nothing remains, though I am now marked and the story has become a part of how I see the world and carry myself through it. We are each made up of the people we meet along the way; we are a mosaic of the love we have to give, and that which we’ve received. We are what remains of everyone, and everyone is what remains of us.

I am carried in the mosaic of others as I carry them within my fragmented self. None of us ever leave and energy only reshapes itself. We are the mosaic of One.

I have been dreaming every single night. It’s been almost too much, and I can’t keep up.

The processing remains. I have grown into and around it, as best as I can because I am tired of fighting it. And I am tired of suffocating on it. Two months is enough.

All that remains is love and kindness and compassion, I tell myself. It’s what I show others, because I do not wish to be unkind myself. Always lead with kindness, and softness. Always leave spaces where neither is to be found but your own.

I will not harm. I will not allow this world to brittle my heart. I will fight this world to remain hope-full. I believe in the goodness of others.

I believe in the goodness of others.

I believe in the goodness of others.

I believe in the goodness of others.

All that remains is love and kindness and compassion even when my insides are frozen in the explosion of a scream because I am forced to see the truth while others are blissfully unaware (or pretending to be).

I will not harm.

I will not harm.

I will not harm.

I will instead sit with my anger and hold her close, understanding she is just the smallest and frailest and most broken part of me trying to protect the softest parts of herself.

I will sit with her until she feels safe enough to dissolve into grief, remembering that –

All that remains is love and kindness and compassion but now it comes with a recognition of the harm exacted, and the misrepresentations wilfully made, and the closing of that door.

Quietly, as I believe in abundance; any love I gave was love needed by a wounded inner child, and I am grateful that I was able to pour love into any of His creation. Allah has got me.

Quietly, as I allow only conversations fuelled by (both the terror and release of) truth. The door is closed, but it will never be locked, its handle only radical and complete honesty. I already know enough to know the depth of what is there, and I carry neither judgement nor a wish to shame.

This is how I tend to my friendships.

All that remains is love and kindness and compassion.

However, outside of my life, and…

Unless there are pivots away from certain things harmful to our souls, a seismic shift is coming. Ecosystems will be undone, and people scattered. I’m not sure I’ll witness it. I don’t know how soon. I don’t know if it will be subtle or explosive. All of these perimeters will be decided upon by the Universe when She decides that the balance to all of the taking is payment due.

It will not be my doing. It never is. My entry into certain spaces has proven that I am a start to shifts like these. I am the catalyst, never the agent. It’s a pattern I’ve learned to recognize and accept without fuss no matter the scars it leaves on my body and my heart.

No matter how heartsick it makes me. No matter the sorrow. No matter the deep loneliness of it.

Fire creates room for new things to breathe again and grown clean again. Unless there are pivots away from certain things harmful to our souls, a seismic shift is coming.

I am melancholy today. I am wondering if the old man face which used to light my dreams will ever cross my path. Only Allah knows, and time with sorrow and care exist within edges; we will not have more of any blessing than is precisely ours to have, including time spent with those we hold in our hearts.

This is how I tend to my friendships.

All that remains is love and kindness and compassion.

And my words.

They will find and follow you always. Because I have never been a woman from whom Allah allows anyone to hide the truth for too long. And within this reality, I am at peace. alhamduliLaah.

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