The secret behind it?

  I always think about what would happen if a certain situation were the opposite of what it was, or if someone who helped me in some way or was kind to me in certain situations were the opposite. How would my life be, or how would the situations that were built on the fact that an event or a person was a certain way be? Then I discovered that everything bad, or the people who were bad in my life, or who acted badly towards me, or who were the way they were even if I wished they were different, were a blessing from God. Because if it weren't for all the events that happened and what those people did, I wouldn't have faced greater challenges. We are always grateful to people who treated us well, appreciated us, encouraged us, or were kind to us. We are happy with good events that we believe were the most important and best things that happened to us.

But in reality, it's not just good people or good events that made us who we are. It's possible that when we faced a particular obstacle, it led us down a different path, one that God had already ordained for us, and which we wouldn't have discovered otherwise. Perhaps if we hadn't encountered the bully who hurt us, we wouldn't have been filled with the determination to challenge and succeed. Perhaps if we hadn't experienced injustice, we would have wronged others without feeling any remorse. Perhaps if we hadn't received the support we needed from loved ones, but they let us down, we would have turned to God for help and support. As a result, we drew closer to God, sought refuge in Him, and were blessed with His guidance and support, which is more valuable than any human support.

Perhaps if we hadn't endured all those nights soaking our pillows with tears and stifling our sobs, we wouldn't have felt the joy and sweetness of victory when we achieved our dreams, dreams we thought were impossible. Every time someone we thought was important and essential to our lives left us, while in reality they didn't love us or show us loyalty, we grieved deeply for their departure, our hearts breaking. But the reason was that they were clearing the way for someone else to take their place in our hearts. We then witnessed how God sent us compensation in the form of someone who loves us, is devoted to us, and whose sole concern is to be the source of our happiness.

This question often troubled me: What is the secret behind all the pain I've experienced in my life, the betrayals, the broken trust, the bullying, and the unfortunate events that have occurred? Why does this happen to me? Why can't only pleasant and happy things happen to me? Why can't I live a comfortable and joyful life without pain, oppression, or heartbreak? The answer came to me after I turned forty. Now I think about what would have happened in my life if I hadn't encountered every bad situation, every bad person, every pain, every disappointment, every person who hated me, plotted against me, or bullied me. The answer is, I wouldn't have achieved any of what I have. All of that fueled my inner drive to become the best version of myself, to push myself through challenges, to become a more successful, better, more self-confident, more balanced, and wiser person.

My dreams would have remained just dreams, and I wouldn't have achieved any of them, were it not for God's grace in allowing me to go through all the difficult experiences that enabled me to revise my life choices, think clearly, always seek alternatives, and accept every challenge as an inherent part of daily life. Consequently, I endured struggles and considered them life's battles that refined my character. They didn't come to destroy me, but rather to dismantle the weak parts of my personality, allowing the strong parts to emerge and confront obstacles. Thanks to all of this, the fighting spirit within me was born—a spirit determined to achieve its goals.

I also discovered that what I thought I had lost wasn't truly lost, but rather that it wasn't right for me and might have led to my downfall or changed my path. Even when I lost what I thought was lost, it was necessary for me to see things clearly and seek what was best for myself. Everyone who let me down or didn't support me was the reason many people admired my personality. I am a strong person with a mature mind, and everyone around me trusts my judgment and consults me. My life is filled with people whom fate has filtered out for me; the bad ones are gone, and only the loving and loyal remain.

Therefore, I came to the conviction that there is no such thing as loss, for every loss was the secret behind a great gain that occurred in our lives, or happened in our personality, or made a difference in our choices, decisions, and directions in life. And there is no such thing as if what happened had not happened, because everything that actually happened was destined by God for a reason, and it was indeed the reason behind many good things, even if we did not realize them at the time or have not realized them yet. Therefore, believing that all of God's decrees are good is not just an act of worship, but rather a cure for the soul and a reassurance for the heart that what is yours will not be for someone else, and what is not yours will not be for someone else. The most precious and valuable metals must be exposed to very high temperatures in order to be shaped in a dazzling way that captivates hearts. So whenever we are exposed to trials, we must be patient so that we may rejoice in the secret behind that trial, which is great joy, God willing

it's not too late yet

About two months ago, I decided to quit my job and stay home. This year marks my fiftieth birthday. Everyone thought I'd gone mad. With widespread youth unemployment and a deteriorating economy, I decided to give up my government job of twenty-five years. Everyone also assumed I quit because of one of my bosses, who harbored resentment and malice toward me and subjected me to all sorts of harassment for ten years. While that was ostensibly one of the reasons, I'd hated the job ever since. I never wanted to be a social worker, but I endured it until I finished my doctorate and got another job. I got my doctorate ten years ago, but since then I've been trying to find a different job, and I haven't succeeded at all.

That job has always been a source of nothing but bad memories and a present that reflects my failure. The bad memory came when I was in high school and a social worker bullied me to please her colleague, a French teacher, who considered me bad simply because I didn't take private lessons with him. She helped him and only stopped bothering me after my mother visited her at home and gave her a gift, which she accepted. From that day on, I considered everyone who worked in that job to be a bad person. Perhaps for this reason, I tried to always be a help and support to my students and refused any attempt by a teacher to bully a student. I treated them like my own children, and indeed, I earned the love of most of the students I worked with. Thanks to God, I left a mark on their lives that changed them and made them eager to stay in touch with me for many years afterward.

As for the present, it meant that I was a person with a doctorate in literature and a specialization in medical anthropology, working in a field completely unrelated to my studies. While others like me were racing to publish scientific research, attend conferences, and try to change people's lives, I was drowning in paperwork and writing, my life wasting away on the demands of my superiors, who seemed to relish the feeling of being in charge of someone more qualified than themselves, and who would harass me. My words might sound arrogant, but unfortunately, it was the truth. Furthermore, working in education always made me feel like everyone else was moving forward while I was stuck in a rut. There was no change, no development, no future, no ambition, no hope for anything different.

Every day I felt like I was dying a slow death. Everything about this job was destroying me. I had decided to quit five years ago, but my friends dissuaded me, constantly telling me it was a mistake. How could I leave all those years without a pension? What would I do with my free time? I was a working woman, used to leaving home every day for work, interacting with people, students, and parents. I would definitely become depressed and regret leaving the job, but it would be too late.

I thought it was too late. As for me, I knew that my peace of mind was at risk and that because of this job I had lost my writing skills, my passion, and all my hobbies. Even the knowledge I had spent a lifetime studying was of no benefit to me or anyone else. What is the point of a person wasting their life in a life they hate when they can change but don't try? The truth is that every time I was about to take that step, I was too cowardly and backed down, and I would hear the voices of my friends and my father, may God have mercy on him, warning me against my recklessness. But suddenly I discovered that the adventurous person inside me had not died yet, and that I could break free from all the annoying molds that people think we must live according to because they are the ideal molds for a stable life. Suddenly I dusted off that rebellious giant inside me and left the job and decided that there was no going back. Today, after two months, which is not a long time, I decided to reward myself by praising myself for that decision. Perhaps the change came late, but it is better than never coming at all, and I am truly very happy with that decision and the other decisions that resulted from it. My advice is to change; it's not too late yet.

Running in the Wrong Direction

 I recently realized I was running in the wrong direction. I kept running, ignoring the mockery and stares of those around me, and their ridiculous questions: Why are you running? Why in the wrong direction? I stopped for a moment to look around and saw no one. After sitting on a rock, I wondered, "Where are the others? Am I running alone? Who am I racing with? Is this the right direction? I've been running for so long, but what have I achieved? Would I have been deprived of what I have if I hadn't run? Have those sitting around achieved their goals in life without running? Will I continue running alone? Or will I return to the starting point? Or will I stop? What is the measure of victory or defeat?"

And the answers screamed from within me: You were running against the current. You thought you were special, but you weren't. Others abandoned you because what you were chasing wasn't logical or rational. Your supporters fell away one by one, and you were left alone. You were racing against yourself because you set an impossible goal in the wrong place, time, and circumstances. You didn't run fast enough, and you couldn't exert more effort. You achieved nothing; you wasted your time and energy for nothing. What you achieved, many others achieved without the slightest effort. And what did you stand to lose? Your job, which was given to those less qualified than you, and which you had secured before even starting the race. Ironically, that job, which came to you without your seeking it, is all you've gained in life, and it came without any struggle.

You wasted years of your life among books and in taxis, traveling between governorates in search of knowledge in a country where knowledge is not valued and people are divided between the worried and the charlatans. You postponed marriage and having children, and you caught up with the end of the marriage train. Your advantage that attracted the groom was that you were studying, and you discovered that you were living the cold, lifeless life of intellectuals. You enter the homes of your relatives, and your heart is filled with joy and happiness due to the children's shouts, noise, laughter, and the wives' complaints about husbands who are jealous or concerned. If you return to your home, you find it cold and devoid of the reasons for life. You ask yourself, should I return? This option is no longer available, as returning is impossible. Whether you stop or continue makes no difference after all these years. Nothing will happen that hasn't already.

And after all that, you still wonder if you've gained or lost? How foolish of you! You kept mocking those around you for mocking you and your choices, while they moved on with life together, laughing and crying together, comforting each other, sharing their pain, melting the coldness of the days with the warmth of their gatherings, and lightening the heat with their laughter and their mockery of everything. But you kept racing against yourself, thinking you would succeed in achieving what others couldn't, while you ran and ran alone in the wrong direction.

A Letter to God

 I came across one of my childhood diaries when I visited my late father's house. I found a letter I had written titled "A Letter to God," in which I complained to God about the harshness with which my mother treated me and the favoritism shown to my brother. I also asked God for a younger sister. I chuckled to myself at this thought, which had stuck with me. I had seen an Egyptian film shortly before writing that letter, also titled "A Letter to God." The heroine was a little girl who wanted her doll to talk. She went to her father and asked him if he could ask God for anything. Her father told her that God is capable of all things. She then told him that she wanted God to make her doll talk and that she would write a letter to God about it.

She went to her older friend and asked for his help in writing the letter. He helped her, but the child was in an accident that left her speechless, unconscious, and unable to move. Despite this, she survived. Her friend grew up and asked her father for her hand in marriage so he could help care for her. After consulting a doctor, they were told that it wouldn't hurt and might even help her recover. The unconscious girl became pregnant by her husband, and during childbirth, the doctor told them her life was in danger. In a moment of despair, her father found her letter to God. He, too, wrote a letter to God, asking Him to heal his daughter and bring her back to life so she could care for her child and joy could return to her life. God answered his prayer, and the girl survived, gave birth safely, and lived a happy life.

That image might seem fantastical and far removed from reality, but the child within me remained steadfast in her belief that God receives all our written and spoken messages. Nothing ever happened to me, and I never needed anything, without speaking to God, whether through prayer or writing. Now, I remember so many things that have happened to me since I was young, ever since I learned about the method of sending a message to God. I followed it, and many things came true. God answered me after many prayers, which I considered personal messages sent to Him. Things that seemed impossible came to pass, and I found myself receiving things I never imagined I would. God protected me from falling into problems or from people who wished me harm, people I wasn't even aware of. He guided me through very difficult times that I thought I would never experience. Now, immediately, take a pen and paper and write on the top of it, "A Message to God," and underneath it, write the following: "O Lord, I know that You have blessed me with all these blessings: the blessings of sight, hearing, speech, movement, and health. Be grateful to God who has bestowed all these blessings upon you. I confess my sins, O Lord, I know that I have been bad in them." The matter and that matter, and that was a weakness in myself and not a desire to disobey you. I remember your need, I need you, O God, to help me and inspire me in that matter, and make you certain that God hears what is in your soul and knows what your message contains, and His answer will be first a feeling of comfort, second a feeling of support, and third, be certain that He will keep away from you any evil and you will have His protection even from yourself. Then after that, if there is good for you in anything you asked for, it will be fulfilled, and if what you asked for is evil for you in the future, He will prevent it from you.

family

In our Arab society, the family is the center of a woman's attention. As a wife, she cares for her husband, his family, and her own. When she becomes a mother, her focus expands beyond her husband and their families to include her children, their relatives, friends, and their families. Even when her children grow up and start their own families, she becomes the primary caregiver for all the smaller families resulting from her marriage and the children born to her sons. As a daughter, wife, mother, mother-in-law, or grandmother, she is the center of everyone's attention.

In the past, not so long ago, women in our society were the focus of everyone's attention and respect. As a daughter, she was protected by her brothers and cared for by her father. When a woman marries, she becomes the focus of her husband's attention, protection, and care. Even in her old age and frailty, she finds from her children, grandchildren, and even her nephews and nieces a level of affection, care, and respect beyond description. In our Arab societies, a woman was provided with clothing, jewelry as gifts for every occasion, a dowry, and gold as a wedding present. She also had someone to furnish her home, with her husband and father sharing the cost of furnishing the house she would move into to start her new family.

When she marries, she becomes the center of her husband's attention, protection, and care. In the past, work, toil, and hardship outside the home were the domain of men, while wearing jewelry and fine clothes, arranging flowers, and managing the household with the help of maids were the domain of women, even in the humblest of classes. Civilized men would take their wives to parties and the opera, where they would wear evening gowns and jewelry. Their husbands would hold their wives' hands and treat them like queens, ensuring their safety wherever they went. They would allow them to board any means of transportation before them, and they would enter any place they visited first. In crowded places, they would shield their wives with their hands and bodies to prevent them from bumping into anyone, and they would follow them up any staircase.

In the past, homes were filled with the warmth of women, homes where the aroma of delicious homemade food, baked goods, and drinks filled the air. Each woman's recipes were passed down from grandmothers to mothers, and each woman developed and innovated to leave her own unique mark on the food, imbuing it with her passion for her family, her love, and her attention to the details that mattered to each member.

In the past, homes were filled with the warmth of women, homes where the aroma of delicious food, baked goods, and drinks filled the air. Then came the modern era, and the devils in human form needed human intellect. They spread their poisonous ideas among the women of our society, convincing them that they were slaves and servants to men and that they must demand freedom, independence, and liberation. They urged them to leave the house to work and achieve self-realization, reject male guardianship, and stop submitting to their husbands because they spent money on gifts, jewelry, food, houses, and clothes, paying for the luxurious and refined life enjoyed by women of that time. Unfortunately, women were gradually swept along by this trend until they became obsessed with it. Little by little, men withdrew from their roles, and the women of our society began to suffer a conflict between the need to reclaim their femininity and the pursuit of their dreams and the lie of self-realization. Women abandoned their homes, leaving children with nannies without supervision, and became more consumers of processed foods. Luxurious clothing was replaced by jeans and t-shirts, and jewelry and evening wear disappeared. Men no longer worried about women in crowds, and women, of their own free will, became slaves to a false and mere ambition. A cog in the daily grind of misery, she has been transformed from someone who showered everyone with love, care, attention, and delicious homemade food into a weary, irritable working woman burdened by the weight of responsibilities piling up on her shoulders between home, children, work, and social obligations.

Even men have abandoned their homes, seeking warmth outside, each according to their means and religious beliefs. Even children now live with their phones and friends, oblivious to what's happening even within their own homes. The warmth, love, and affection shared among family members have also deserted homes, leaving them cold and desolate, resembling hotels or even restaurants, as everyone eats fast food outside to avoid returning home to a place devoid of companionship. Divorce rates have skyrocketed, and nursing homes have proliferated—a practice once considered shameful. Unhealthy relationships have become widespread, and misery permeates every corner of society.

Children's Terror

When I was little, I was terrified whenever adults argued in front of me, especially if it was my parents.  was always afraid they would divorce, and I worried about my brother and me. I always sided with my mother, despite her harshness and despite my deep love for my father.

Now, when I look at the children of the world, I grieve for them. Arguments between adults are no longer just raised voices, verbal abuse, or threats of divorce. They are now exposed to witnessing murders, often very violent ones, and are witnesses to horrific domestic violence. They are also victims of violence themselves, sometimes at the hands of their own parents.

All of this isn't the worst-case scenario. The worst scenario is what Muslim children everywhere are enduring: bombing, killing, starvation, home demolitions, displacement, arrest, rape, and even their murder is merciless. Some are denied food, others medicine and treatment, living through their worst nightmares, suffering and pain until death. Some die from the cold or from homelessness, without shelter or walls to protect them from the winter's chill and the summer's heat.

Whenever I look at the children of Sudan, Gaza, the Uyghurs, and the Rohingya, I'm reminded of the terror I feel from such trivial things, whether it's an adult squabble, a mouse running past me, a small reptile crawling on the walls, or even just the fear of any insect. I now know that my generation had a wonderful, happy childhood, and my heart bleeds with horror at what children everywhere are enduring in this cruel world, which truly makes us long for Judgment Day so that those who have had mercy ripped from their hearts will be held accountable, those who used children, women, and the elderly as targets in their wars, their thirst for blood knowing no bounds.

devastating cruelty

 We women are bundles of emotions, but of course, we are not all the same. There are women who are firm, strict, and even harsh. My mother was one of those women. She believed that her harsh upbringing was the only way to make me a better person. The truth is, I did become a better person outwardly, but her harshness left me constantly needing affection. I feel unworthy of love except under certain conditions, the most important of which is that I must always be superior, always obedient, and always give my all to please others. Because of that harshness, I became more averse to harsh people and more drawn to those who treat me with tenderness.

We women are bundles of emotions, but of course, we are not all the same. There are women who are firm, strict, and even harsh. My mother was one of those women. She believed that her harsh upbringing was the only way to make me a better person. The truth is, I did become a better person outwardly, but her harshness left me constantly needing affection. I feel unworthy of love except under certain conditions, the most important of which is that I must always be superior, always obedient, and always give my all to please others. Because of that harshness, I became more averse to harsh people and more drawn to those who treat me with tenderness.

Introduction

Peace be upon you. Today is a pivotal day in my life; perhaps I'll tell you why later.

Let me introduce myself. I'm Wissam, a woman who will turn 50 in a few months. I'm from Egypt, married for the second time, and we have no children. I hold a PhD in Arts, specializing in Sociology. I worked as a social worker until a month ago, but I decided to retire—that's another story I'll tell you later. Since I was little, I've loved reading and writing, especially writing stories and my memoirs. The truth is, we women are naturally gifted at storytelling. Psychologists consider it a way to release pent-up energy and anger. In Egyptian Arabic, we call it "venting." These stories, and the sharing of them among women in our world, help regulate our hormones, especially since they fluctuate constantly.

Perhaps we all turn to friends or strangers because we don't find anyone in our immediate and social circles, even within our families, who listens to us, understands us, or appreciates our needs. Even from a young age, despite having a large family, I felt that no one listened to my honest inner dialogue. I always spoke words that didn't reflect my true feelings, fearing that I might upset or criticize the person I was speaking to, or even lose them. So I performed this task for everyone without exception, because everyone has the right to find someone to listen. But after all these years, I decided to speak my mind without fear of anyone or of harming anyone.