Morning, 12th July

10am

I’ve fallen again. I don’t know what happens overnight. I go to sleep feeling strong and I wake up wanting my life to be over. Is it my period? A part of me knows I will overcome. Yet a part of me dreads this happening again and again. When will this go away? When will I stop cycling between these extremes of being alright then completely shattered?

Hamza [my 3 year old son] is constantly complaining, demanding and crying. He won’t get dressed, he won’t sit on the toilet, he hits me. I took him to the shops today and he screamed and cried for 15 minutes because I wouldn’t buy him a toy. I feel so drained.

I read a message from him [my soon to be ex husband] about respecting your wife. It goes on and on – about how your wife left her family to be with you, left her siblings, how she carried your children… I feel nothing as I read it. I feel nothing but self hate. It’s too late, I’m broken. His messages have no meaning to me. I stare at them blankly. I have heard it too many times before only to be hurt all over again.

The agonising aching is overtaking me. I see my parents laughing and joking on the beach. They do not notice that I’m not there anymore. They don’t care. They are laughing. They are happy. I am rotting at the side watching them silently.

He made me so weak. He told me what to do and how to do it, everything. I don’t know who I am.

Mum says she doesn’t know who I am. Sara, my best friend, said she doesn’t know who I am, she doesn’t know what our friendship was based on. I feel sick. How could I possibly have told her about the abuse? I didn’t know it was abuse. The police told me! I couldn’t tell her that he called me ugly and useless. I was embarrassed.

Imran promised me that he would take care of me if I got divorced and married him. He said he would make me happy and then my kids would be happy. Then he left. His wife had found out. He came back, pushing to see how desperate I was for him. I let someone else hurt me again. I want to run away. I feel sick. I hate myself. I am nothing.

I have to pick myself up. I don’t want my friends to be worried about me. I don’t want to let them down. I don’t want to let my children down. I have to pick myself up. I have to cry to Allah. I need to beg Him to take away this sadness, to protect me from this evil. Will you help me, Allah? Will you ease it now please? Will you make me stable? Will you stop the loneliness? Or will you let me sleep now? I can’t fight. I need to sleep. Will you help me Allah? You promised you would if I called on You!

Maybe I need the low dosage antidepressants after all.

10:20 am

The boiler is making a constant faulty break-down-any-second sound. It’s so annoying.

Hamza is watching Peppa Pig. We’ve hugged, kissed and played. I love him. I love and need him so much.

I’m ok. I cried it out. I wrote it down. I had my moment with Allah. Loneliness is my test. I will struggle and I will survive. I will do it smiling for my children. I will give them all the love and care they deserve. They are innocent.

I love my friends. I love my children. I have to pick myself up. I need to be more patient and say Alhamdulillah for the countless blessings Allah has given me. I have to snap out of this ungratefulness. I will be ok. I’m tired now.

11:30 am

Aileen came to tell me I’ve caused a flood outside. The boiler overflow was leaking. I fixed it. The noise has stopped. It’s the second time I’ve done that. She must think I’m crazy.

She could sense I wasn’t my ‘happy’ self. I tried to smile. I talked about the weather but mainly I looked away. I didn’t want to have eye contact so I looked into the garden. It is too tiring today.

I need to cook. Get on with the day. I’ve got over my crap. Ready to take on the world again. Just need another cup of tea first maybe, a bit of an Islamic motivational lecture. I’ll be ok.

I wish this day would be over. I wish I was someone else.