Wednesday, February 27, 2013

It's February Again



February to many is the month of love, the month of someone's special birthday, the month of a special anniversary, and in the last two years it has become the month of revolutions. It is all of those to me and something more intense. It is the month I dread most of the year because in it a part of me died, seven years ago, and since then I have died a thousand deaths. It is the month I fall apart, where the heaviness in my heart transmits to the rest of my body paralyzing all my senses. 

In this month, it is as if my mind sends a message to my body to let go of trying hard to hold it together throughout the year. I become numb with pain and can hardly function as usual. Not only does my heart ache but my whole body as well, the pain reaches my bones. I become hyper sensitive to the pain I carry all year round. The tears that I struggle to store for 11 months, come easily flowing with the slightest memory of my loss, not that I ever forget it. The anguish I keep deep in my heart, comes to the surface and becomes exceedingly and unbearably painful.

On February, I tend to withdraw from my social circles and immerse myself in my grief. No words of support or sympathy, although much appreciated, ease the pain. Contrary to my sociable nature, I turn into a reclusive during the upcoming days to face my woes in solitude. Then comes that fateful day, February 27th. The day of the year I faced pain in it's most excruciating form. The sequence of events of that tragic day keeps replaying in my head. I give myself permission on this day to be just a mother who is submerged in her sorrow, finding comfort in grieving the loss of her child. I pray, I write and I let go of all my emotions, surrendering to the painful feeling digging deep in my heart by letting go of my emotions and shedding all my tears. I allow myself to feel hurt, the way a parent who lost a child would. As a wise friend said: 
"Grief is not a disorder, a disease or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve."
So, I permit myself to do just that on this day, which helps me cope with pain the rest of the year. I normally manage my emotions considerably well. I am blessed with faith which keeps me strong and with a great family and the most supportive friends, which I am thankful for, and who are always there for me all year long. Having faith helped me come in terms with my loss, but the pain certainly and permanently persists and I have come to accept it as well. 

A Dr. I visited last week asked me the routine question "and how many children do you have?" And it felt as if she had just pressed a fresh wound, I tearfully replied, "I have four, and one of them is in heaven." She was moved and asked in concern if I had someone to talk to, I told her "I have God." It is He who gives me the strength to live with my pain. It is Him who I am thankful for everything. It is Him who gives and Him who takes, to Him we belong and to Him we shall all return. 

I am not an expert in psychology. I am just a grieving mother who is sharing her mechanism of dealing with pain. I wrote this post to explain to my friends, whom I usually withdraw from this month, what I struggle with this time of year, hoping they forgive and understand me and hoping someone going through something similar can perhaps benefit from it.

Monday, February 11, 2013

Yemen's Revolution, Two Years Later

Today, January Feb 11th, is the second anniversary of the start of Yemen's revolution. Despite the massive marches that shook Yemen's 21 governarates for 11 months, yet not many acknowledge that Yemen had a revolution. They conveniently undermine it by either calling it an uprising or a conflict. Many Yemenis feel that the revolution has been hijacked by Saudi Arabia backed by the US, by Ali Muhsin the former leader of the First Armored Division who defected and joined it, by the Joint Meeting Party who partnered with the ruling General People's Congress and by the Al-Ahmars and the influential tribal leaders who supported the revolution. Everyone had a piece of the cake, except the independent youth who started the revolution with big aspirations for change and dreams of building a new Yemen. They are the ones who sacrificed their lives and their blood, they were the ones who were injured, arrested and tortured. They are the ones who still bear the pain and the scares.  They are the 'forcibly disappeared'. They are the ones we remember to honor and thank today. May our injured protests get the treatment they deserve. May our martyrs rest in peace and may their footsteps be the inspiration for us to continue their path. We owe it to them to finish what they started.


Despite the many disappointments, grievances, international interference, setbacks and unaccomplished goals, two years after the revolution started, history has taught us that revolutions do not succeed overnight. A lot of commitment, effort, faith, hope, patience and above all time is needed for any concrete change to happen or for any desired results to occur. It is a long and arduous journey, yet Yemenis are known for their patience, steadfast and resilience. We will never give up hope in a new Yemen. If we do not succeed now, our children surely will. They will hopefully finish what we started.


N. B This post was mistakenly published on Jan 15.