A healing child

Trigger warning! Contains details of physical abuse and mentions sexual abuse.

This Ramadan… I am reminded of Ramadan many moons ago…

I am reminded of my tiny preteen body… Fasting… Washing clothes under the big tree… The instruction was clear: don’t you dare eat or drink anything before you have prayed! As soon as I heard the azan(call for prayer) I run into the kitchen and took a bite of a samosa. The next thing I knew I was kicked in my stomach, then whipped with a radio wire slapped hard multiple times, then dragged by the arm from the kitchen(a tiny outdoors room) on the ground sand and tiny stones… To the living room(also the only other room where the whole family sleeps.) My hijab fell off, and the Dirac(dress) has holes so my body is exposed… I have been told to cover up now that I had tiny horns poking out of my chest. Never to run around like a little boy anymore, as I might put a man’s faith to test and cause him to fail and break into my vessel. I was very aware and conscious of my body. Neighbors came to see and yelled “stop beating the orphan”

Two men were sitting in the “living/sleep” room… about 10 minutes, before all that… I was serving them the iftaar(food to break their fast) respectfully… Now I am half-naked in front of my so-called relatives… 3 Men trice my age! I was slapped in front of them… They laughed… Then one of them said “ok that’s enough”… Until this day… I can’t make sense of what all the was about… I would have prayed my salah gladly after I had eaten a Lil…

But then again… Nothing really made sense back then… Those who were meant to protect you were those who you should have been protected from…

I am reminded of being pinned down by many…then fainting from smoke that came out of burned sandals and Quran verses and a big blanket on top of me… These meant well… They thought I was fainting due to an evil spirit so they wanted to whack and smoke whatever it was out of my 13ish-year-old body…

Good intentions with harmful methods are as traumatic and cruel as bad intentions… They too leave their imprint… I mean I should know! I have done things with good intentions yet instead caused distress…

But… fainting wasn’t the result of unseen evil trespassing in my body… It was panic attacks: the effect of the robberies… Robbery of the flesh.

Body broken, heartbroken, broken pennilessly broken… All these terrible types of brokenness I could wash them down by turning to God. By bringing all my troubles to Allah SWT… Now picture this… Tho ones that harmed you… Are the ones that appear to be and claim to be closer to God than you…

If all the abuses I have survived were sooked in gasoline… Spiritual abuse is the match that set it all on fire… Because to feel spiritually broken is the worst kind of brokenness… To be born a girl in many parts of this world can feel like a curse… I felt it was a curse… I was told Allah was testing my iman… Poor lady, she didn’t know better. God is merciful.

Some of us… We will be forever healing… Alhamdulilah. I want to say, to anyone who is reading this: no matter what memories come to the surface of your life… It doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t deserve any of it! But it happened. And whatever happened it will never take away from your valuable. You are a worthy precious being always were, always will be.

Published by Muni_Mar

Heloooow and mahadsanid(thank you) for visiting my blog. I'm Munimar(combo of my two names) I'm a mother of two darling boys, a Creative soul, lover of Coffee & Kindness. I am a survivor and it's my mission to inspire and encourage my fellow survivors. Say hi😊

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