This chapter of my life is my prime time.
I am reaping good karma and harvesting my rewards, respect, and honor.

This chapter of my life is about me.
My sake of peace, love, and happiness.
This is the year I reach my peak.

The previous chapter of my life taught me how to truly love, accept, and respect myself.
I healed from PTSD, domestic abuse, and depression; which is like going to rehab and having to reinforce the stage of relapse.
More over learning how to manage my emotions and control my reactions.

I let go of all people, places and things that no longer serve me for the greater goods.
Since I released all negative and toxic energy I have been feeling free and more active.
I feel renewed and like a brand new person.

This chapter of my life I am unstoppable.
My desires are appearing in reality.
I am reaping all the good seeds I sowed in my previous chapters.
Everything I touch turns to gold.

What I love most about this chapter of my life new beginnings.

What do I love about this part of my life?
I wonder aloud to myself.
I seem to get caught up in the riptide of the ever quickening current of life and sometimes forget that when I ride the waves rather than resisting, I end up exerting much less extra energy and receiving much more than when my attention is caught up, too.
I do love that I can put this sensation into words, something that creates something from what was once abstract.
I love that I can pause and take just 3 breaths, and remember the gift that alone is.
I love that in this moment in my life, I am able to meet the triggers and challenges I face like an old friend who is just in need of a parcel of love, not to be turned away with vengeance.
I love that I am choosing me, no matter what, in a selfishly selfless way.
Who can pour from what’s empty?
I love that I am discovering what confidence means to me, and also for my ability to give grace, especially to myself, when that confidence I discover falters, even just momentarily.
I love that I can remind myself of all the reasons I have to be confident, and for all the gratitude that I feel for the awareness I’ve cultivated of this, as this practice has at times felt as unnatural as I imagine eating soup on the moon would feel.
I love that I am meeting myself deeper and with more love than I’ve known from myself ever, and for that I rejoice as I know it will be multiplied outwards.
I love that trying new things lights me up with excitement instead of cowering in fear.
I love that I use strength with my voice, no longer one to be bulldozed with others’ words.
I love that my once thorny boundaries have turned to beautiful vines, soft yet strong, ever enduring with elegance and ease.
I love that this chapter of my life has brought me a love of life – once a place that was a barren landscape of nothingness – now a fertile garden bursting with new life and the potential of growth beyond all imagination.

You told me not to leave
More times than I could count
Confused young kids
Having kids
Not knowing what was what

Well one day I finally remembered
I’m worth
All the love and more
And that endless love
It starts within
And flows forevermore

The journey has not been easy
Rocky from the start
But I’ve grown stronger and wiser
And all these lessons fill my heart

I’ve had poison aimed straight to my soul
From your words and energy
But despite your lies and anger
I never will grow cold

Because if this darkness that I must face most days
The light I have within my soul
Re-illuminates me always.

I pulled on a pair of runners, tied up the laces tight
Lined up behind the racers, hoping to keep out of sight
Two minutes in, I struggled for breath, fearing I would meet my death
I pushed forward despite my pain, dodging blowing northwest rain
With every puddle I side-stepped, I grew stronger, more confident
For the moment I was simply me, not a husband’s wife nor a babe’s mommy
My body moved freely in open space, unconfined by time or place
And with that first race, on that day one, I found I absolutely love to run
This revelation did change the way I lived my life both then and today

After the loss of my mother-in-law, my youngest daughter brought up the topic of starting to wear the hijab (a scarf that covers the hair, denoting our humbled nature towards God, and empowering our rights to protect our modesty in a world filled with immodesty). As a mother, who wanted to give my daughter a better chance at a larger pool of the ‘marriage mart’, my husband and I convinced her to wait. However, she brought up my inner need to wear the hijab myself and be a better practicing Muslim, because the hijab is a constant reminder of my connection to God. By wearing it, I’m reminded to always be grateful for what I have, not to envy what others do, work harder to achieve my desires within the dictates, rules and regulations given to Muslims through the Quoraan. I’ve also found that the acceptance I’ve received in this Western Country, Canada, was overwhelmingly positive and empowered me to stay the course of my beliefs. Now, I’m proud to say that my struggle to strengthen my belief is a daily occurrence, that I do my best not fall under its depressing weight. Struggling to unite people through the hijab is an uplifting experience, as one shares their experiences and problems, which in turn help others find solutions for their own set of issues.
My favorite comment when people meet me, is that I have a certain glow to my face that comes from the power of my faith.

In this chapter of becoming me
My idea of who I want to be
Has evolved as a result of life
Experience in both love and strife
I find seldom is there black and white
Or simply wrong or completely right
But rather in this world of gray
We must live in our authentic way
Today I’m proud to say I’m queer
I’ll shout it out both far and near
Because in this chapter of becoming me
I’m exactly who I’m meant to be

Give up, never!
The challenges of life give greater
Satisfaction when struggling to overcome them.

Give up, never!
Through war planes, attacker
On our land, as my partner is an army officer.

Give up, never!
Through financial strains, being a mother,
Teacher, student, niece, aunt, cousin, daughter…
With duties and love to give as worries grow stronger.

Give up, never!
Going through bowl obstruction surgeries, recover
From that alone is like moving through quick sand, a surfer
Of intense pain, stilted, limited movements that border
On the robotic before getting better.

Give up, never!
Immigrating at fourty plus is no simple matter,
With two teens and two adults to give succor
As the cultural, geographical, and familial reservoir
Dwindles and altered to an extreme purveyor
Of loss as we embrace newer circumstances in horror.

Give up, never!
Through each trial, the sun does shine brighter
And belief that you’re being tested makes me stronger.

Give up, never!
Give up, never!
Give up, never!

©️ Malak kalmoni chehab ©️

***Trigger warning***
I have thought long and hard about this entry, the words that are going to follow, will likely be a trigger for so many, but it is my hope that maybe, I can help another feel less alone. I want to let you know, that I’ve likely been right where you are. I’m here to tell you that it’s okay to feel like everything is caving in. That life sucks, and that we got the shortest straw. It’s at that point, we know we are human beings. Living life. We just have to feel it all! Then, when we feel it’s time, push through it. Try not to get stuck in the pain and the darkness. Time is different for so many of us.
My life has been far from easy. I’m guessing yours may not have been either. So we are meeting on common ground. I wanted to give up on everything so many times. My very first memory ever was when I was around 2. It was traumatic. Growing up I didn’t fit in with the others. I was bullied. I had a very emotionally immature mother, and my father, well, he was gone without a forwarding address when they divorced.
I was the odd girl being raised by her grandparents. I was automatically labeled “different” and not cool.
I kept going. It was so hard. In 4th grade, the bullying really took its toll on me when a fellow student put a kick me sign on my back and my art teacher saw it. She pulled me aside and took me into the hall. I thought I was going to be in trouble because no one wanted to be in a group with me. Her words changed my life. She told me that I was smart and talented. She told me to leave the kick me sign on my back and to go back in the classroom acting as if I didn’t know anything had happened. I wanted to cry so badly. My heart was crushed. It was hard, but I did it. I kept moving forward.
In my elementary years, I felt so lost. Absolutely lost inside. Moving on to middle school, the bullying continued. My self esteem was at an all time low. I started to ditch classes and eventually, I constantly messed up all through 7th grade. I didn’t think that I had a chance at anything. At this point, I had some family issues arise and the pressure took its toll on me. I experienced physical abuse from someone in my family due to alcohol abuse they had become a stranger in my eyes. Unrecognizable and terrifying. With each time that I was hit a piece of me shut down. No one was listening to me. It was me, against the world. I was put in a private school for “troubled teens” There were not many girls there but I became friends with a girl that was adopted.
I opened up to her about feeling fat and un pretty. One day at her home, she gave my my very first diet pill. This resulted in an eating disorder, I will just check that box too. So we now have on the board, traumatic childhood- jumping into Child abuse, leading to full blown self hatred and a very devastating case of both anorexia and boulima. I had absolutely no clue that I was spiraling downward in a very dangerous way. I couldn’t feel anything. I wanted to feel something. I just couldn’t. I was absolutely NUMB. You might be wondering why I’m putting this out there for the world to see. It’s my hope, that you will see that you are not alone. That you are strong and you will pull through the storms. My story didn’t end there. As numb as I was, I kept moving forward. I had no direction but I knew that it had to get better at sometime. Fast forward to 15, I was thrown back with my mother. Within the first month of living with my mother, Plot twist from absolute HELL-
I was beaten in the school parking lot with leather belts by a group of boys while everyone watched and laughed. This was typical for a Denver high school in the 90’s. “There was no room for stuck up little white girl in their hood” This was what they told me as they continued to whip me with braided belts. This was an assault. The school let it go. I became a shell. I don’t remember too much other than my mother blaming me for the events that transpired shortly after this. I was sexually assaulted by one of the boys in that group. I woke up in a hospital emergency room covered in charcoal with only a blur of the hospital lights above my head. At that point, all I wanted to was die. I didn’t think that I had anything left. The police had taken a report and my mother refused to press charges on grounds that she feared more gang retaliation would follow. I was placed in a group home- Day treatment facility to address the issues. That treatment facility saved my life. For the very first time I was taken seriously. I was not called a liar. I was supported and safe. I had made it to safety.
It was a lot of work on my part. I still had a many issues with my mother.
Everything was always about her. I’m wrapping this up ending in a teen pregnancy. The teen pregnancy allowed me to imancipate from my mother at age 16. I want you to believe that you can break your family generational curses/cycles and life may be hard but I can promise you there is a light. The fight and the struggle are very important. They make us who we are.
I believe in you. In fact, a whole lot of us Unsealers do. You are amazing. You are smart, you are strong, you have a bright future ahead. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. You will change the world. I will be over here, a stranger, in the stands rooting for you. 💜 Just believe in every aspect of YOU. You will pull through. You are not alone and you are already doing such great things. Most importantly, thank you for being you.

Don’t Give Up, It’s a Lie
I’ll tell you a story. Four years ago, I sat at the end of my chair at seven at night. I was tired, no exhausted, desperate, fearful, and as hopeless as I have ever felt in this false world, I built around me and played a make-believe character in, and I knew. I don’t know how I hadn’t known before. Maybe I had. Maybe I had always known. But right then I knew for sure.

It was a lie.

It was clearer to me in that moment than it had ever been before. I knew it without a doubt in my mind. I knew it and nothing and no one could ever change my mind.

It was a lie.

I did all the things you should do in that situation. I bent my head and covered my face and prayed. I prayed and I prayed and then I prayed some more. Tears streamed down my face, dripping on my shoes. The harder I prayed the more I knew.

It was a lie.

I had come to this place, this holy sanctuary three years earlier, searching, pleading for healing. I’d spent twenty-seven months on my knees in earnest prayerful repentance. I’d sat in circles surrounded on both sides by sexual addicts, pedophiles, and the sexually broken searching for healing. I’d listened for the voice of God to speak to me and fix my brokenness. To make me whole, make me straight. I’d sung songs, read verses, prayed endless prayers and nothing. But I tell you that night as my tears ran off the sides of my shoes and dripped to the floor, I knew.

It was a lie.

There was no amount of prayer or repentance that could make me straight. There was no sickness to heal in me. There was no sin to forgive. I was a lesbian not a sexual deviant, a lesbian. Everything they were telling me was false.

It was a lie.

Today I know as I did that night that I am whole just as I am. I’m not broken. I’ve heard a great deal about reparative therapy and trust me when I say it doesn’t work. Whatever else you read, whatever else you hear, remember this, it is not true. You cannot fix a homosexual and make them straight.

Don’t Give Up, It’s a Lie!