My 'hijab' Story

I didn't plan on making this entry very lengthy. But I started writing and it.. happened. I do foresee people going tl;dr but that's alright because it felt quite liberating after I finished writing. For those who actually want to read this long entry, I hope you'll read it with an open mind, and an open heart :)

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This is not really a story about my transition from not wearing the hijab, to wearing a hijab. Growing up in an Islamic environment, I can't really remember specifically the date when I started wearing the hijab. All I know is that I've been wearing it since I was six (in K2). I'm nineteen now so it has been thirteen years of wearing the hijab. I don't remember asking mother why I have to be covered up from top to bottom, nor did I put in a lot of thought about it. It's just a piece of cloth, it doesn't define a person or their capabilities and intelligence just because they cover themselves up. It just shows that they're Muslim.

I studied in one of the religious institutions in Singapore (a madrasah) throughout primary and secondary school. It's an all-girls Islamic school and of course, we are required to wear a uniform which basically covers us from top to bottom with only our face and hands showing. Again, I've never really given much thought about it or really question why I must cover up. I just know that I'm a Muslim girl, and I have to cover my aurah. Nobody asked me questions on why I wear the hijab at that time because basically all my friends wear the hijab. It's not something 'out of the ordinary'.

For ten years in an Islamic instituition, after O-Levels, I decided to continue my studies in a polytechnic because I was curious and I wanted to know what it would be like to break out from this comfortable circle that I've been inside for ten years. Since poly would start in April, I spent the first few months after O-Levels studying Pre-University A-Levels subjects in my madrasah before I started poly. I figured it's best that I gain some knowledge instead of just rotting at home for a few months. And yes, even though I hated school (bad experiences), I love studying so yeah.

Pre-U was fun. For once, I actually felt proud of myself because I got that far. I was a senior. Nothing felt better than that. Father always wanted to see me in Pre-U and wearing black shoes and stuff like that. It was a big deal to me.

I dropped out a week before poly started. It was a bit hard to bid farewell to a place which was equivalent to a second home. I've been there for ten years, I basically grew up there and watched my peers as they grew up as well. From cute little childish innocence, through the awkward stages of adolescence, and to young adults. This was a place where our peers were like sisters, and our asatizahs were like our mothers. 

I realised when I entered poly, that that's when I started to enter the 'real world'. My father sent me to school on the first day. Just like every first days I've ever had. My parents would send my sister and I to school from kindergarten and all through primary school. During secondary and Pre-U, my father would still send us every morning, but he didn't fetch us anymore. It's always like that. He would always send us whenever we needed to go somewhere. You could say that my sister and I were very 'protected' in a sense. Sometimes my friends would tease me, but that didn't bother me. Because I knew our parents love us. Our family doesn't own a car or any modes of transportation. So when my mother or father sent us somewhere, they literally took the bus and train with us to our destination. Masyaallah. 

Anyway. 

When I entered poly, I received a huge culture shock. After being in an all-girls Islamic school and interacting with only ladies, I had to interact with people of the opposite gender as well. I didn't find this quite appealing. It's not that I was a misandrist, I was just terrified. I didn't have friends for the first few months. I was very reserved and shy, and very very awkward. 

When non-Muslim guys introduced themselves to me and offered me a handshake, I would just smile and shook my head. I was afraid that they would get offended. One thing that really surprised me was seeing how freely guys and girls would mix around and touch each other. (That turned out sounding a bit wrong, but I hope you understand what I'm trying to say) Because growing up in an Islamic environment has taught me that guys and girls cannot mix around freely like that. There must be a boundary. So I felt a bit uncomfortable.

When people finally thought that I was okay to talk to (lol), they started asking me questions about the hijab and about being a Muslim girl.

"Why do you have to wear that?"

"She's Muslim too, why doesn't she cover herself like you?"

"So you cannot touch guys? At all??"
"Why do you have to pray? How many times do you have to pray?"

Those religious questions kind of thing.

After not giving much thought in this subject, I suddenly have to ask myself these kind of questions as well. It's not that I started doubting myself on wearing the hijab or being Muslim, no.

These questions helped me understand more about the hijab and being Muslim. For once, I actually started thinking about it. I started thinking and asking myself why I wear it. Was it because mother told me to wear it? Was it because I was from a religious school? Was it because people will judge me if I don't wear it?

If I look at it in that point of view, I would merely be concerned about what people would think of me. In poly, some girls don't wear the hijab and they're not judged because of that. I could easily take off my hijab when I enter poly because no one would care if I wear it or not.

So why do I still continue wearing the hijab?

Often I would be envious of sisters who started wearing the hijab for the first time. I could see how special it means to them. Because the way I saw it, they have that special connection with God which I wished I have too. I can't really define or actually know what kind of connection this is, but I know it feels special. It's like.. being held in a warm embrace. Or something like that. I don't know; you can add in your own metaphor.

I may not have experienced the struggle of wearing the hijab because I've worn it since young and I didn't really know the true meaning of why it's so special or why it was so hard to cover up. It's the beauty of the struggle and the journey that I wished I could have experienced.

Sometimes I wonder if there are people like me who feels the same way. Maybe everyone has that connection. Maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe there's something wrong with my Iman.. Maybe that's why I have depression. When my parents found out that I was diagnosed with depression last year, I could see their face filled up with disappointment. For the first time, I cried in front of mother. Still, I couldn't say a word. I went for regular therapy for a few months then stopped after I convinced them I was okay. I stopped too because of the pressure. People kept telling me my Iman was low. As if depression is not a health issue but more about the strength of one's faith.

It felt as if people were kicking me while I was already on the ground. It felt like I was reduced to something so little - so small and insignificant. It's like they were shoving the 'truth' in my face; that my Iman was low. But is that really.. the truth? Was it because I didn't feel that connection with my Creator? Over time, I stopped listening to people and went and find my own answers.

I figured that maybe this is my struggle. Maybe this is the journey. Maybe this is how I will find that connection I've been looking for. This is the beauty of the struggle, this is my journey to get closer to Allah. This is my 'hijab' story. This is it.

Maybe hijab can mean a lot of things. To me, hijab is not just a veil or cloth that covers the aurah. It's also one's relationship with Allah. The connection, and the closeness to the Creator. A symbol of love towards the Creator. The beauty of the struggle. One's own personal battle.

So whatever struggle we may have, we must have good thoughts about it. Sadness is not merely there to hurt us, but a way for us to get closer to Allah because we may not remember Allah at times when we are happy. We must remember the beauty in the struggle. So keep the faith, smile, and stay strong soldiers. All will be well, Insyaallah.

I know I'm not really an inspiring person, but I do hope that this story, and my own personal input that I shared with you is beneficial in a way, and you can actually get something positive out of it. Insyaallah.

I shared my story, and I would love to hear yours :)

'Till then, take care of yourself. 

Good enough

I've learnt a lot of things being on internship. Among the things I've learnt, one of them is actually learning about people and see how they act and react. Not in a sense whereby I analyse their every move, but more of just observing, and understanding why people do what they do.

I've been told by my colleague that, "People are okay. Just talk to them. Sometimes they're a bit shy." "But I'm shy too.." "Never mind. If they don't want to talk, don't feel offended. It's okay."

I've developed this attitude and mindset that if something happens, and if I don't like that thing or situation that happened, I will accept and move on with a smile. Although it may take a while to feel okay and fully accept that situation.

If something I want doesn't happen,
It's okay.

If things don't go a certain way,
It's okay.

Sometimes I wonder why we always settle for just okay. Maybe because from okay we can change it to become something that's good or better. 'Okay' is like a benchmark. A 50% of a hundred. A just-pass. It's 'good enough'. Is it really?

But sometimes something that's okay can become bad too..

I don't know.

I guess it depends on how we see things and which side we want to accept more.

I used to be a person who always sees the bad in everything. A pessimist. Or rather I would call myself a realist in a way because I over-analysed things to the point where I felt that things won't work out or things won't be okay. I thought that it makes sense.

Over-analysing and worrying and "trying to make things better" (although it makes things worse) proved to be tiring and was a downright spiral towards the abyss. Slowly I got better and I started to look on the brighter side of things.

It felt nice.

I still have problems viewing myself in the positive light though. I just can't. I feel ugly in a sense that I believe I'm a bad person and a rotten individual.

Because I am..

Enough about that.

On the way home from work, I wondered how it would be like if strangers would randomly smile and interact with each other. Lately I find myself smiling to random people I see. A habit I picked up from work. It surprises me that people do actually smile back and they're not really that scary as I thought. Even though initially they look intimidating.

As an introvert, even saying Hi takes a lot of effort. Accepting a phone call, making a phone call, and talking to random strangers were some of the things that I found terrifying. I guess I can say that internship helps a lot in my social anxiety to make me.. less socially anxious. I'm really thankful for that.

Sometimes talking to strangers feels nice. Mainly because they don't know us in a personal level. It's just at that one moment where we were inside each other's bubble. We have no past with each other, nor may we have a future with them. But in that present moment, we were in each other's lives. We're like each other's calefares. Calefares may not play a huge part, but calefares are important.

Maybe my colleague is right. People are okay.

Maybe okay is enough.

Maybe one day things will be okay.

It's 2am and I'm not sure if this post makes any sense.

But that's okay :)

Monsters live inside us

Have you ever wondered if your existence in life is like a non-sharpened pencil?
Pointless.

I'm thinking I should write something..
but then again, what's the point?

Oh where have that passion gone..?

I feel like something is holding me back but I don't know what it is.
I'm suffocating, I'm gasping for breath.
Here I scream but there's no one listening, do I still make a sound?

What's the point of voicing out when no one wants to hear you?
What about having an opinion when all they want to hear are their opinions in your voice, does it even matter?

What's the point of having feelings when all you can feel is pain?
What's the point of being brave when all they can see is your fear?

What's the point of even trying to care for yourself when people are constantly breaking you?
What's the point of trying to prove them that you're strong when all they can see is how weak you are?

..because no person knows you more than you know yourself. You know what you deserve and how you should be treated. Humans are complex being where everyone is different from one another. We can't just stereotype a person  based on our own prejudices when we see their actions and what they do and label them as good or bad or what they do is right or wrong.

You can't control a person's thoughts. You can't force a feeling when it's not there..

They say there's always two sides of the story. I believe there are more. What matters most is not knowing all sides of the story, but to understand why a person does what he does.

There are always.. reasons.

But we often look at reasons as excuses. So we often brush off those reasons because they are merely excuses.

People often see me as someone who doesn't have a stand, an opinion, or a strong grip on what I believe in. I've heard it all before.

"Awak ni tak ada pendirian ke?"

I do have a stand.

But I have become so tired to voice out, because I know it won't matter. The things I say won't make a difference.

It's not that I don't say it out because I do. I'm not asking for what I said to be agreed upon, but to be accepted. There's a difference.

Just because I do something, doesn't mean I like it. There is a misconception whereby people may think that when a person does something, it's because they like it. We often forget about the reasons.

Like why I overpower the pain I have inside me by thinking about it over and over again.. I have reasons. It makes me feel.. alive in a sense.

It may be that a person does a thing because he needs to do it and not because they like it. It's like an addiction. Whenever you try to stop, you'll fall back and relapse.

It's hard to get better..

Especially when you're surrounded by people who constantly bring you down with or without them realizing that they are bringing you down.

When you finally came across a person who treats you like you should be treated.. you'll get scared. Because they're like a mirage.. They belong in a sweet fantasy that you believe you never deserve to be in. You're afraid they'll disappear.

When you've been living in a state of comfortable sadness, you know that being happy will hurt you eventually.

I'm afraid.

It's hard to write.

It gets unbearably painful along the way. I will always end up crying halfway because my thoughts will start falling into the abyss. These thoughts embody everything I hate.

I shall end it here. Because it's getting very hard for me.

Change

Sometimes it's a bit hard for me to accept changes because at one point in my life, I've never thought that these changes would happen and that I would have to deal with them. But that's life. We seldom get what we want but often get what we need. But are we thankful?

I'm learning how to embrace change. Change may not be bad tho I have to agree that 'change' is outside of our comfort zone most of the time and it may be hard to adjust to them. But I always tell myself to look on the positive aspects of everything. Like for example, I  may think that something that has happened may be considered 'bad', but I do believe that these things happen in order for better things to fall through. 

I have to be honest that I feel like it's hard to be patient and faithful at times. But after it all passes by, I do believe that everything will make sense and I'll finally understand why things happened.

I'm still coping and trying to get used to the absence of some people in my life. It's hard.. but that's okay. Everything happens for a reason. And I pray that Allah will always protect them and keep them safe.

Till then, take care of yourself.

Oh Allah, please forgive me, 
For the wounds caused by my sharp tongue 

For the insanity that has consumed my thoughts 

For the fire of jealousy and hatred burning through my eyes 

For the bitterness trapped in my cold broken heart

For the ways I have hurt others and hurt myself 

For the ways I have wronged others and wronged myself

But most of all, please forgive me for not remembering, 

For not turning to You at certain times, 

Whether I was afflicted by pain 

or filled with joy.

Elephant

Why do you always make me feel bad..?

if it makes you feel better

I 'll let you know that I hate me too

and you can't possibly

hate me more that I hate myself

so it's alright.

e . k