Weblog van een jonge Australische vrouw .

Hoe moeilijk is het om getrouwd te zijn met een moslim(a)? Wat als je kind zich tot de islam bekeert?
Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Weblog van een jonge Australische vrouw .

Berichtdoor Ariel » Zo Aug 10, 2008 12:42 pm

Dit is de weblog van een jonge Australische vrouw . Ze is op dit moment actief op internationaal . Haar forum naam is escapingthepain

http://www.faithfreedom.org/forum/profi ... le&u=13648

Ze is getrouwd met een moslim, maar op dit moment heeft ze hem verlaten.
Deze moslim heeft haar mishandeld , getreiterd , beledigd … enz, enz..

Lees haar blog. Haar eerste aantekening begint op 25 Juni.
Dit is een verhaal dat alle onnozele naïeve jonge bekeerlingen moeten lezen.
Ik weet wel dat niet alle moslim mannen zich zo gedragen, maar het verhaal van deze vrouw is geen uitzondering. Hoe vaak horen we niet van vrouwen dat hun charmante lieve moslim veranderd in een monster. Jonge kwetsbare vrouwen vallen voor zoete praatjes, mooie warme donker bruine ogen, en een knap gezicht, maar beseffen niet dat de cultuur van hun ridder op het witte paard zo verschillend is met de cultuur waarin een bekeerde westerse Moslima is opgegroeid, dat het bijna mis moet gaan.

escapingthepain verteld haar verhaal.

http://www.xanga.com/escapingthepain

Dit zijn een paar posten van haar op Internationaal.


Hi,
I just recently left islam although you could say it was coming a long time although I kept holding on and trying to find something to "prove" islam was right.
I am currently separated from my husband who is an extremist in every sense of the word. I dare not tell anyone I've left islam as my husband even calls muslims who don't agree with him kuffaar and he says they deserve the death penalty and he is the member of a group that has been linked with terrorism.
Am trying to escape and am enjoying my new found freedom. I took off the niqab & hijab but still cover my arms and legs and even so still feel naked because of how long I covered my whole body for - I even used to cover my eyes.
i left my husband due to domestic violence, have kids and don't know how to protect myself from him. He wants to take my kids back to his country...and i am currently in hiding and am worried for my life, i worry every time i walk out my front door that someone will see me and report back to him. The leader of the group he's affiliated with is demanding that I explain to him my leaving my husband but I don't want to talk to them again as last time I left him they managed to talk me back into going back to him.
I've studied islam indepth and have attended 4 years worth of shariah courses & memorized many suras & can speak a bit of Arabic although I'm caucasion ex-muslimconvert in background.
Anyways, got to go as kids need me to attend to their needs,
thanks for providing this service,
a recent murtad


Uiteraard geloven Moslims haar verhaal niet. Islam is vrede en alle Moslims dragen hun vrouw op handen en beschermen haar alsof zij een kostbare diamant is.

I'm so pissed off I can't believe it, I was hoping for the support I need not people telling me they don't believe me - I get that enough from the authorities here who think it isn't even remotely possible.
You try living with a man who keeps you awake until 3 in the morning to lecture you on islam and how you aren't a good enough muslim ect... how you saying something about islam in anger means you are now a kafir -
and then the next morning you have to wake up for fajr and if you don't wake him up in time (while he is a deep sleeper and when you try to wake him up he might punch you and yell at you to go away) he hits you anyway and makes the next day a living nightmare.
Where you can't talk to any man, in fact you can't plain speak in public can you as your voice is "seductive". You're not allowed to talk inside your house near the front door and not allowed to laugh at all anywhere as the men might hear.
Where you get punched for not listening to him properly while he talks about how he wants to fight jihad. And you have to make your facial expressions just right while he talks so you don't get in trouble.
You try going through what I've gone through and then you can say something but otherwise just shut up.



Hmmm... the last straw?!!! How many do you want?
Being forced to watch executions online by my husband while he shouts allahu akbar and hitting me if I don't cheer with him?
Being kicked up the backside for not submitting to having sex while my kids are in the room?
The numerous insults to my culture and the food my culture tends to eat simply because I was born in Australia?
Being told I should as a muslim woman that I should help my husband find a second wife?
Living in a darkened house because hey we don't want any men seeing my 'awra eh?
Being told I was a kafir because I accidently said something that could've been blasphemous?
Being told it isn't possible to be depressed as a muslim?
Oh and most recently being punched in the face by my husband who happens to be a Tajweed & Qu'ran teacher?
Want more information?...



Een moslim.....
What did your man read in Quran that he locked you up inside walls? why did'nt you ask him that "where is it written in Quran?"

What the %$&%^*&?
Yes Islam does allow these things...
Executions - Kill them whereever you find them, lie in wait for them found in surat tawbah (my husband's favourite surah)
Obedience of the wife on any issue & the beating of them if they don't submit - surat an-Nisaa
Finding him a second wife - many scholars have spoken on this topic, and my husband (along with some of his friends) consider polygamy to be a compulsary part of the muslim experience on earth... they feel sorry for all those poor girls out there who can't find husbands so say they have to marry them up to prevent widespread corruption on earth.
You know "obedience" to the husband covers alot of things in marriage - Muhammad said that if prostration to a human being was allowed he would've commanded the prostration to a husband... also he said to umm salama to take care of how she treats her husband as he was her hellfire... also Muhammed said that if a man is angry with his wife her prayers are null and void... these can be found in the book The Ideal Muslimah
I do happen to know quite a bit about islam, I just happen to not make excuses for it any more unlike you!
And for your information I have quoted Qu'ran, ayat upon ayat only to be refuted by my husband who happens to have a more in depth knowledge than I - he grew up in Saudi Arabia as a refuge and he reads the Qu'ran through in every three days. We've had so many arguments about islam as used to support the weaker sort of islam, however he always won because the islam he supports is the true islam.
Get a big man (which my husband is) a few ayat, a big fist, surat an-Nisa and you can get the woman to do just about anything... And yes it is because of islam - islam doesn't say anything to prevent him from doing what he did to me so it is responsible...
and f**** hell, I'm not looking for f**** sympathy, I'm stating the facts, if you don't like it then just don't read my posts,



De Moslim...
Disturbed women like yourself come here to take out their frustrations, people with family problems etc are particularly attracted here, your behaviour is not strange, This is how it works here, you state your domestic problems, others will take the blame away from you and put it on the religion and you feel lighter…..SO you are gaining the much needed sympathy in the process….
Laatst gewijzigd door Ariel op Za Aug 16, 2008 2:48 pm, 1 keer totaal gewijzigd.
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Scarlatti
Berichten: 5279
Lid geworden op: Vr Mei 09, 2008 10:12 pm

Berichtdoor Scarlatti » Zo Aug 10, 2008 2:13 pm

mijn gòd! idd ik hoop dat ze t lezen en niet eigenwijs zijn en dènken

'ja maar bij MIJ is t ànders, zal t ànders gaan,

MIJ zal dìt niet overkomen' :?
Islam=LEVENSBEDREIGEND

'LOQUENDI LIBERTATEM CUSTODIAMUS'
Laten wij waken over de vrijheid van het spreken... (Pim Fortuyn 1948-2002)

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:07 pm

Ik heb toestemming van escapingthepain om haar weblog hier te plaken.
Lezen jullie mee ? Je kan dan lezen wat een innerlijk gevecht ze moet voeren om zich aan haar ex en aan Islam te ontrekken.

Ik ga vanaf nu haar weblog bijhouden, en omdat men ingelogd moet zijn om haar weblog te lezen, zal ik met haar eerste bijdrage beginnen.

Hi - this is me - I'm a young mum who is running from domestic violence and currently can't sleep because of the memories and the pain... so I decided to come on here and write my heart out - and write and write and write until the pain goes away or I fall asleep or whatever!
Me


Our Wedding night.
Hopeless naive girl. You are so pathetic and stupid. Why didn't you run then?

"Did you enjoy being raped by your uncle?" He asks me.

What do you think? Of course I didn't enjoy being raped by my mother's sister's husband. Tears ran down my face as I tried to keep his hands off me and tried to rationalize his question. He probably didn't understand what it's like to be raped... maybe he thinks women enjoy it... anyways, what could I do now? I was married to him now, I couldn't back out now, and besides he loved me, he'd married me in spite of knowing I had been soiled by my uncle as a child... He'd married me in spite of the fact that here I was an impure evil creature who'd somehow managed to find someone who'd actually want her after she'd told them the horrible "news".

"No, I didn't enjoy it, of course not! No one does!" I replied.

He came close to forcing me that night. Against his culture it is to touch a young woman before the feast even though according to Islamic law they are married, yet even so he showed me his authority saying he could rape me if he wanted to and the couple upstairs sleeping wouldn't hear a thing, saying that he could drill me like a hole in the wall and there would be nothing I could do about it. His gropings as I struggled to keep his hands off of certain parts of my body as he attempted to undress me became more and more insistant. But I was equally insistent in spite of his pressure. In spite of his threats to force me, in spite of him saying that it would be all-right...I told him that if he'd wait I'd make sure I was extra beautiful on the day of the feast. I told him I'd make him the happiest man alive. I told him I'd do whatever he wanted me to do on that day provided he wait until then as I didn't want to do anything until the big day of the feast. He persisted in his attempts to get me to comply, and I tried to leave the room but he gripped my hands and dragged me back. Eventually I was allowed to leave the room and went to my bed upstairs, worried that maybe the couple sleeping in the room close to mine had heard what he'd said to me.

I hadn't run... I ignored all the danger signs and instead told myself how good I had it. Afterall, who would want me - damaged goods? And he seemed the nicest guy I had met so far... at least he wasn't as creepy as the guy I had met on the train who had changed his story like a million times in order to try to get me to marry him.

Hasta La Vista Baby!

Go on, sign away your life why don't ya? Idiot. Somedays I wish I wasn't even born. Fuck you.


Married. All in one day.

Who am I you ask? How should I know?

I am the girl who shyly says sorry for the twentieth time since you met her five minutes ago. I am the mother who struggles to keep her children quiet while their father sleeps on the couch while I have to cook his dinner. I am the woman who's scarred zebra-stripped arms embarrass you into saying nothing and just stare. Perhaps you see me as I struggle to keep up with him as his long legs stride along quickly and he shouts out his orders to me. Perhaps you've visited my house with him as you ate the mountains of food I prepared. Perhaps you even prayed with him while I panicked about the toys my child has just strewen all over the floor that I will get in trouble for shortly. Maybe you have told me how sorry you feel for him, how I really should go back, how this time he really has changed! Maybe you know me better than I know myself...
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:11 pm

Friday, July 25, 2008
Oh God I hate him! I feel so much hatred well up inside of me. I want to strangle him, hurt him, put him through as much pain as he has put me through. But I could never really hurt him could I, even though God only knows I have tried.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


He hits me once again. "I don't like that W...! Please leave me alone!" I yell at him. He hits me again and tells me not to talk like a man talks to a man. I hit him back in the shoulder. He laughs and punches me in the stomach. I double over. "You think you can hurt me huh?" he spits at me.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


He tells me off for my "bad" cooking once again. It tastes like crap. What can you say? Aussies cooking arab food. Aussies cook crap. Aussies are all idiots. blah blah blah. I want to give him a taste of his own medicine. I want him to understand how much pain he causes me. "Please don't say that W..., if you don't like my cooking just go eat somewhere else, I don't mind. I spent all this time cooking for you and all you can say is, "What's wrong with your cooking?"...I cook because I love you and want to make you happy so leave me alone." He says I'm making a big deal out of nothing. I should be glad he criticises my food otherwise I wouldn't know how bad it tastes. I should try to improve my cooking. Why don't I cook like Ghada or 'Aza? They cook such great food, why can't I make my husband happy like they make their husbands happy.

"Why don't you get a better job W...? How come all the women have husbands who have great jobs while I have to explain to my guests why I don't have anything to serve them? huh? You don't like it when I say this to you do you? So don't tell me what a crap job I do at the cooking!"

He laughs at me. He says I'm immature. I need to grow up. I'm being illogical. He chucks the food in the sink and leaves the house saying he expects a proper meal when he comes home. I try to get myself together as I look at the food I spent all afternoon preparing. I feed the kids. I skip the meal. I'm too upset to eat. I start another meal all over again... but I know there isn't any point...afterall my food is all crap isn't it? what's the point of even trying?
11:53 AM1 viewadd epropsadd commentsemail1:24am and I still can't sleep. God I'll pay for this tomorrow when the kids want to play and I'm groggy from lack of shut-eye.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


My daughter is playing next to me. He wants sex again. I don't. But hey, what I want doesn't count does it? He pulls out his thing and grabs my head by my hair. He forces me to perform oral sex on him. In front of our daughter. I try to hide it from her by pulling my hijab over head. She wants to know what's going on. So I try to get him to stop. I bite. He hits me up the side of my head. He threatens to show her exactly what's going on. So I comply. He's happy. He grabs my hand and takes me to the bedroom. He does his business with me. And I can go back to folding the clothes. At least he's happy. Hopefully he'll be happy for the rest of the day. Hopefully he'll leave the house and go out with his friends and leave us alone.

I try to forget. I tell myself it's ok. I tell myself he is my husband and it is his right. I spit up blood from where his penis scratched the back of my throat and caused me to retch repeatedly as he rammed my head down into his groin. I wash out my mouth over and over again. I brush my teeth. Nothing takes away the horrible taste. I know I am not worthy. This is all I am good for. And I buy into the lie yet again.
11:32 AM1 viewadd epropsadd commentsemailWhy is it that only I can feel my pain? Why is it that a pain so great - so strong - so overwhelming can only be felt by me?

This pain penetrates my being, erasing memories, forcing me to forget wrongs made against me so I am once again vulnerable to his pleadings to come back. Too much pain. Too much fucking pain. My head hurts with the pain, my body is tense because I am constantly on alert. Will I ever escape?



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I have two children and am sitting on the lounge chair while they sleep soundly in the bedroom. I am watching CSI Miami, a show I love to relax in front of. Of course though I can't relax. He might be home at any minute, throwing the door open with amazing speed as I try to look non-suspisious yet once again. He'll probably throw me this time, or maybe he'll just storm into the other room to gain his bearings before he lectures me once again.

I turn off the tv. It isn't worth the stress to be honest with you. I go and mop the kitchen floor while I wait. Tick tock, tick tock goes the clock. The millionth clock we've bought since getting married. They always break from him throwing and pushing me around the bedroom. Always. And then I've got to buy a new one or he gets mad because he doesn't wake up for fajr. Well what the hell? He doesn't wake up for fajr anyway... so why do I always get blamed?

The kitchen floor is spotless and I vacuum the lounge room carpet and then move onto cleaning the walls. The house is spotless but he still isn't home. Should I go to bed? No, I can't stand the thought of climbing into bed and not knowing what he might do while I was unprepared so I sit on the lounge again. I get up and pick out a book...probably one of those self-help books I was always borrowing from the library in my quest to fix myself so he would be happy with me... but I can't remember, how do you remember the name of a book you were reading when this has happened countless times before?

I hear the key in the door and shove the book under the chair. The second lock clicks just as I manage to stand behind the door waiting at attention ready to say, "Salaamu aleikum ya habibi! Kefu halik? Did you have a good night ya habibi?"

His look tells me all. He slams the door and walks around the house with his shoes still on. He says nothing, but he will. I stand helpless in the lounge room waiting. I know it will come. Maybe now, maybe when I finally drift off to sleep. Maybe tomorrow, or who knows he might stay like this for the next three weeks until I find out what I've done wrong. I wring my hands and struggle with my tongue to not ask him what's wrong. I know not to ask him what's wrong as last time I did that I was struck up the back of my head and pushed to the ground. I was lucky too... so I shut up.

His pacings continued. Back and forth. Guestroom, bedroom, kitchen, loungeroom. Faster and faster. He still says nothing. He hits the wall. He mutters under his breath arabic swear words. I watch and try to will myself to disappear. But I can't disappear... instead I stand there a target for his anger.

He starts the lecture. I am a bad wife. I am a bad mother. I am too western. I am not a good muslim. I don't really care about him. His friends are angry with him because he hasn't had a big "get-together" in quite awhile. And it is all my fault because he hasn't been inviting them because I told him it is too hard for me to cook for 16 men within half a day of being informed with two small children to care for. I am disrespecting him in front of his friends because of my non-compliance with his invitations. And look at me! I am ugly. I look like I'm pregnant. What are all those pimples all over my face? Huh?!!! And those stupid idiots who got involved in our relationship, it's all my fault for talking to them isn't it! This stupid western country! Stupid western women, all of them are prostitutes and lesbians! Apparently I look like a lesbian, I look like a boy, I look like some homeless person.

He comes closer to me, his jabbing of the air now a jabbing of my face. I try to back away and he grabs my arm. It hurts but I just say nothing, I just watch him to make sure I know where his other hand is. I want to maintain some control... if he hits me I want to know when so I can be prepared and perhaps things will be OK.

He slaps me up the side of the head. He always likes to do that. Slap slap slap. I just look into his eyes while tears brim mine. I try not to cry. He gets pleasure in my tears. He smiles and lets me go. He makes me sit on the lounge while he lectures me. I call it the interrogation as he asks me whether he's right or not and tries to trick me into saying something wrong so that he can hit me again or yell or call me names and lecture me for even more time.

Tick tock, the clock tocks on. 1am. 2am. 3am... I am tired. I have two small children to attend to in only another two hours and I am really pissed off. He won't let me go to bed. I tried standing up a couple of hours ago to go to bed saying I was really tired could we please talk about this tomorrow. No, he grabbs my arm and yanks me back. I say, OK, OK, I'll sit down and listen please let go of my arm. I listen. I answer impossible questions. I get hit. I cry. I yawn and get hit for yawning. I cry. I try to say the right thing so he will let me go to bed. I cry.

He releases me and I stumble to bed. I sleep in my curled up position with my back to the wall so he won't be able to kick it while I'm asleep. I don't think he'll come to bed tonight. He rarely does. Instead I have to sleep not knowing what will happen once I close my eyes. Afraid that he's awake while I'm asleep. Afraid that he'll find something wrong that I've done to punish me for. Afraid.

I hear him turn on the computer. I hear the familiar sounds of his jihadi videos and the shooting noises and the allahu akbars and the songs of victory over the kuffar and I know that now I am safe to go to sleep. He will be busy downloading terrorist videos until he falls asleep in his chair.

So I sleep. And I wake up to my children's voices. And the next day begins.
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:16 pm

Friday, July 25, 2008

The kids are down for a sleep (much against daughter's protests that she's not tired even though she was rubbing her eyes) so I can have a quick blog and then have a much beloved nap!

Am working through (or trying to anyway) some books that I hope will help me sort all this craziness out. I particularly like Invisible Wounds by Kay Douglas and I think has helped a little already. The only problem is there are alot of exercises in the book and me being me, I read the book and then try to accomplish the exercises mind you I'll probably only get a quarter through lol... before I get distracted by some other book with wonderful exercises!

Son seems entranced by cars. I have a couple of small box cars for him and he looks at them and bangs them and sucks on them. He seems more interested with the cars then with the cuddly toys which is rather interesting.

Anyways, won't be writing anything painful for now. I need to keep my focus on relaxing and trying to get some shut-eye which seems feasible seeing as it is the day and less intimidating than the night time. I wonder what he's doing right now although if I think about it he's probably sleeping or off at some gathering with the "bros"... me I get to enjoy a wonderful nap with no worries about the future... I can just enjoy... ah shit! just heard a car that sounds like his! man this really sucks! anyways, will go, probably will be on tonight again if I can't sleep again.


I'm glad he can't hurt me anymore. I hope this will last. I hope nothing bad happens that makes me go back.

I hope he doesn't find me.

I keep reminding myself that he doesn't know where I am... but I keep my eyes open to make sure. I jerk at noises and I look behind my back while walking down the street.

I'm going to go to bed now. I wish this would all just disappear like some bad nightmare... but unfortunately life isn't like that.

like they say,

when you make your bed you've got to lie in it.

Yeah, shit, I'm really lying in my bed now huh? man God must hate me. Oh well, me too God, me too, I hate me too.

bediebyesnow!
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:17 pm

Sunday, July 27, 2008

The darling children are asleep. I've spent the day with friends...so confused about my life, where to go, what to do...what is going to happen...will I ever be able to have a "happy" family life?

Last night I was thinking about W... again. Where is he now? What is he doing? Is he OK? Is he angry with me? I'm never going back to him at least that's the goal...so why think about him? why do I worry about his well-being? why do I worry about him not being able to take care of himself? why do I worry about him being angry? afterall, like the DV worker said to me that seeing as I've got the AVO and am in a safe place it doesn't matter that he's angry - he can't touch me. I find this hard to believe sometimes though and I don't know why I find it so hard to believe... maybe my mind is playing tricks on me, maybe I'm just some paranoid freak who buries her head in the sand only to take it out to worry that it isn't safe from being bitten off by the coyotees any more - don't know where that weird analogy came from lol!

Am going to piece my life together bit by bit...stadge by stadge...and hopefully I can make it some sembelence of normality. A life where there are no dramas any more (at least not crappy ones where I'm trying to survive and protect the kids any more)... A life where I can be me, and my kids can be themselves without having to change everything about ourselves just to make one other person happy (in reality they are never happy with the changes as they want something that doesn't exist).

I want to work out what I believe really, not what I think others want me to believe, or try to make me believe - but rather where I stand on things... where I feel comfortable on things... and I want to be free to change my mind on things without worrying about the world collapsing on me. I want to learn to create good boundaries and to have the strength to uphold them in a healthy way.

And one day, maybe, I'd like to go out into the real world and try my (then) new-found social skills. Maybe. If I can manage to stop saying sorry every three seconds that is.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------




I love laughter. I love to laugh. He said no laughing in the lounge room or the kitchen. In fact he gets angry sometimes when I laugh in the bedroom. Laughing is seductive he says, the men might hear you. So I try not to laugh. And my laughter gets less and less when he is around. My face becomes more and more somber. I don't smile much when he is around. I don't know why. Maybe because of the way he is towards me - maybe because I'm so depressed all the time.

Isolation. He isolates me from anyone I like... or anyone I want to spend time with I should say. It is his right as the man of the house he says. I want to see my non-muslim friends. V...... and M...... who I met in the refuge. But he says no. I tried to visit them one day when he was going to go out and visit his friends and seeing as I'd be alone till midnight I thought it good to visit them at V......'s house but he told me not to. I persisted. I wanted to go. I didn't want to spend another afternoon alone. Always alone. But he yelled at me. NO! I got dressed to go. He grabbed my hands and pushed me away from the door shouting at me to shut up and stay. He blocked my way. I tried to get past saying I'm sick of being alone, why doesn't he spend some time with me then? I'm so tired of being alone. He shoves me again. I beg him. I literally beg him. Please let me go. NO! He rips the hijab off of my head. He pushes me into the bedroom backwards and shuts the door on me so I can't get out. Daughter is screaming for me. I relent. OK I say. I won't go anywhere. I promise wallahi I won't go anywhere. He lets me out. He is angry and looks at me sideways like he doesn't believe me. He goes. I stay. He calls and calls and calls. He comes home unexpectedly early. And then he goes again. And I am alone again. I have no credit so I can't call anyone. He used up the last of my credit tonight calling his friends. I feel ashamed. I can't visit anyone.

He tells me he notices the difference in me when I spend time with my non-muslim friends. He says he can see it in my face. I become corrupted. I am disobedient when I spend time with them. I am a bad wife. I teach our kids to disrespect their father.

I don't want to see my muslim friends. Either he criticises them, or he embarrases me in front of them by staring at them or by making sure I am unable to see them or by forcing me to cancel a pre-arranged visit with them. All of his friend's wives are supposed to be my friends. He gets me to see them. Learn from them. Become like them. They are "good" muslims he says. They really love their husbands. They really love Allah. Look at you, you don't love Allah enough. Where is your eman? I can see the darkness in your face! What is wrong with you? Why don't you pray the sunna any more? Why don't you make the dhikr any more? What's wrong with your eman huh?

Only women with weak eman, or non-muslim women get raped he says. I disagree. I tell him as much. I have to go through hours of crap with him because I said as much. Women who walk down the street in a miniskirt deserve to be raped apparently. I disagree. I say as much. He bellows at me for my disagreement. He threatens me because I won't agree. because I choose to voice my disagreement. He will bash me like they bash the women back home. They bash the women back home to the point they have broken legs and arms and ribs ect... So I shut up. I believe him. I know what he is capable of doing. I am scared. I become silent.

He wants our daughter to marry a mujahhid. She's only two. Not yet of course. No, when she's fifthteen or sixteen. He wants her married to one from Afghanistan or Iraq or Chechnea (however you spell it). He wants my children to die as shuhadah. He wants me to too. And him as well. He watches his videos online and when they are preparing (on the video) a suicide bombing, he looks at me excitedly and says, "H......(my islamic name) come here and look at this, A.......(our daughter's name) shufi! Shufi A.....! Look the mujahideen are killing the kuffaar(in arabic)! Look H......, Oooooooohhhhhhhh! I wish I was there! Insha'Allah we'll die in an attack like that! Look at those brothers, look at the noor on their faces! Don't you want to die like that?" I find it hard to maintain my look of sincerity. I go into the kitchen to cook or clean or whatever I do when he starts talking to me like that. He yells a me to come back. I don't want to watch. I don't want to see this crap any more. He laughs and shouts allahu akbar at the murder. I try to block out the noise. He yells at me to come back. He tells me in an angry voice to hurry up and come. I try to come up with some excuse. But he won't take no for an answer. He throws something at me. Or comes into the kitchen and grabs me and pulls me to watch. Or he will give me a dirty look that convinces me I really should obey. I watch. My heart sinks. I want to cry but he is looking at me expectantly. He wants me to laugh with him. He wants me to smile at the killings. He yells TAKBIR! to that I'm supposed to say allahu akbar, he looks at me angrily and says say ALLAHU AKBAR! I look at his face, I gauge how much I think I can get away with today and just say it weakly. He instructs our daughter to say it as well and says to our son excitedly, shufi M..... blah blah blah in arabic while he just stares at his father not understanding anything. When it is finished it is like his drug. He is happy. Or sad depending on the news or video he watched. When he is happy because of an execution or suicide bombing video or piece of news he comes into the kitchen and talks with me. He looks like a little boys who has just received some lollies. His face is aglow. He might even hug me or say something endearing to me. He also badgers me. When are we going to do that? When are we going to go to the muslim countries to the jihad? He wants to die as a shahid. He wants to destroy the kuffar. He wants nothing less. What more is there to life he says? What more could you want than that your children die as shuhadah?

I try to bury my head in the sand. I try to forget. I try to forget all he has said to me. I wonder what he is capable. I wonder what I'd do if he told me he was going to do something. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to escape. How do you escape someone who thinks killing is OK as long as you identify them as a kafir even if they call themselves a muslim?

When he is angry or in a bad mood because of a movie that features the destruction of insurgents or mujahideen or some bad news he walks around the house in a very angry mood. He hits the walls with his fists. He mutters under his breath. He yells at me over small things. I put the towels in the bathroom, he's told me a million times not to do that! I walked out onto the balcony not wearing socks, don't I know the men will see my feet? What do I do when he isn't there? Do I entertain men while he isn't around? He pushes me. He shoves me. He hits me in the face. He grabs my wrists and holds them behind my back forcing them up so they hurt and tells me to shut up, just fucking shut up! He interrogates me on my islam. He picks words I say and uses them against me. He goes into the room and shuts the door not coming out for hours while I am unable to go in there for hours or unable to do much else. He yells at the kids. He pushes our daughter roughly. He slaps her face. He takes her food from her. He insults her. He insults me. I am a bad mother. I am teaching his daughter to disrespect him and her future husband. He pulls me by the hair and slaps me until I cry. He grabs my chin from behind threatening to break my neck. He asks me this stupid question over and over again, and I don't know what it means but he asks me this alot, "Do you believe the Afghans can unite behind a single leader?" when I say I don't know he hurts me or yells or asks me again until I say yes. I can only hope he goes out to see his friends. Sometimes he takes my computer with him which upsets me as I don't want my computer out of my sight. What if he destroys it or leaves it with his friends like he has done before and then I don't get it back for ages? But it is good when he goes out. At least he is likely to come back in a good mood...I hope anyway.

They worship Osama Bin Laden. Their daughter kept a poster of Osama Bin Laden up in her room and his son kept a picture of Osama Bin Laden on his mobile phone. I know because they showed me. It was freaky but hey who else could I have for friends? They were his friends' families so they became my friends too. They watched videos of matrydoms in Chechnyea. Videos of prisoners of war being decapitated and gasoline being poured over them and then lighted. I tried not to get in trouble. I tried to work out how to leave. But how do you leave a man who makes dua that all non-muslims will die painful deaths? How do you leave when you're so confused and don't know what you beleive anymore. How do you leave when you are scared to tell anyone what you hear and go through because you don't know if someone will betray you or not? How do you leave when the person you're married to tells you that ASIO will imprison you and him and leave your kids at the mercy of DOCS if you talk with anyone outside about this stuff...to be very careful...that he expects to be picked up by ASIO any day...and if ASIO questions me to say nothing?

What do you do?

Here I am trying to sort it all out. I don't think he would do anything. But maybe that's just the way I want things to be and not reality. I don't know. They all tell me. DON'T GO TO THE POLICE. They say anyway. They say don't say anything that could get us in trouble. Come home and make up. There are worse situations then yours they say. Families where the daughter is lesbian and so on and so forth. What do you have to complain about they say. He's a good muslim. He loves the kids. He loves you. Come home they say. Fear Allah and be a good wife. You misunderstand him they say. You don't take enough care of him they say. When was the last time you really dressed up for him when he came home they say. When was the last time the house was really clean they say. He's stressed that's all they say.

I don't know what to say. I cannot go back. I don't want to go back. I just hope oh God Almighty that we are safe now. I hope oh God Almighty that my life can be somewhat normal. Please God.

So many tears I've cried. Tears I cried to God in my prayers. Prayer after prayer. Please answer me God! Please help me ya Allah! Please get me out of this situation and give me and my children peace. Please put love in my husband's heart towards me. Please help me to make him happy. Please stop him from hurting me. Please help me oh God. But nothing happens. It gets worse. I get more confused. He tells me I am not a muslim. I have to say shahadah again and again for him. He says so many things and I get more and more confused. He hits me harder. He threatens me more often. He watches more and more internet. He becomes more and more distant. I give up. I stop praying. My dua become only something I make for my children whenever he forces us to get into the car. I give up.

Who are you? Huh? Who are you? You have been the victim, where has your strength been? Where has your courage been? Why have you been so passive? Why didn't you leave? Why did you stay? Why did you subject yourself and your children to this for so long? Why did you expect things to get better? Why have you been burying your head in the sand?

Why?

I look at my children. They are beautiful. And I know what I have to do. I have to stay strong. I have to fight. And like the counsoler said, sometimes you have to be a bitch even though you want to be the compassionate kind loving woman. I have to stick this out for the kids and for me.

Anyways, I think I'll go now...I need to go to sleep ready for a big day tommorrow!
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:20 pm

Monday, July 28, 2008

Some things I want for my lifeI want to be the mother my children need me to be & I would like to be a support for them throughout their whole lives regardless of what happens
I would like to keep my children safe & help them to develope the life-skills they need for living in the wide world with confidence in their own ability to be the best people they want to be.
I want to be & feel safe with where I live & shop & work/ study ect...
I want to be healthy emotionally, mentally, and physically.
I want to help people in my becoming a nurse/ a police officer at some point.
I would like to become able to have a healthy relationship with a man whether or not I ever have another relationship.
I'd like to create a safe-haven in my house for myself, my children and my guests.
Where-ever I go - I'd like to go to a town or the country not a city - I'd like to have a house with a fenced yard so my children can run around freely.
I'd like to get a simple part-time job at some stage.
I'd like to make some good friends who are truly just that - real friends.
I'd like to heal in every way possible.
I'd like to grow our own food and become as self-sufficient as possible.
I'd like to deal with my past & release it & move onto living in the now.
I'd like to be able to put up boundaries in my relationships and enforce them and to not allow people to abuse me any more.
I'd like to work out one day where I stand with God - whatever that means. I'd like to be pleasing to Him & pleased with Him - and to feel comfortable with whatever I settle on.
3:35 AM1 viewadd epropsadd commentsemailI am coming down with something - fever, chills, aching all over, headache, light hurts my head, and sore sinuses. Mmmm... this is the life man! You'd think I'd be used to being sick after all the times I've been sick in the last couple of years huh? Man it still sucks lol!

How do you put one foot in front of the other when you see little to look forward to? I feel like someone who is walking in an unexplored territory with a blindfold on. It is terrifying to be honest with you, and I wonder if I can make it through to the other side...if there is another side that is!

I wonder what is happening with the police. I wonder what is going on...if anything is going on. I wonder if they take me seriously or are mucking around with me. I've tried calling some people related with my situation today but they haven't called back - I think they must either (a) be really really busy or (b) be ignoring me lol! maybe there is a (c) but I can't think of anything else... who knows.

What is going to happen? I peer into my crystal ball and see nothing...nah - I don't really have a crystal ball - just joking - wish I knew what will happen though!

Anyways, will go and do some figuring out on my own...see you later!
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:22 pm

Monday, July 28, 2008

Anger - Sorrow - Pain - Grief...feelings...feelings...So many feelings.

I feel angry, sad, confused, upset, worried, anxious, panicky, hopeless, mad, furious, and so many other things I can't put my finger on all at once. How is this possible I really don't know.

What is wrong with me? It keeps cropping up in my mind, What's wrong with me? What is wrong with me? Maybe I was born wrong or something I don't know... Mum would tell me to go to bed and not come on here and moan - but hey this is what I'm doing and I don't have anything else to do right now... I could clean I guess but the rest of the house is freezing and I want to get sleepy - not wake up due to low body heat.

Why haven't they called me back? Stop obsessing - they will in due time - they are just busy.

Why am I so afraid of him? What's wrong with me? It's not like he ever really hurt me that bad, and it was all my fault too. I wasn't a very good wife. I was disobedient. I didn't make him happy. So it was my fault he did those things and he didn't really mean to hurt me.

I want to cry. I want to scream my anger out.

I am the idiot. What's happened to my life? It's all my fault. If I'd been a better wife I wouldn't be here right now and my kids would have their father there to be with and everything would be happy. He would hug me and maybe he'd smile at me and tell me he loves me. Maybe he'd spend some time with us and we'd get to have dinner together and everything would be ok. But instead you made him angry because you didn't do what he wanted.

I wish I could cry. How my eyes long to shed these heavy tears. How I long to let the dams of salty water burst the banks of these sore eyes.

Here we stand. Me and my two children. Somehow we have to forge this road ahead. Somehow we have to make our way through the quagmire of dispair and create a life of hope and peace for ourselves.

What will happen with his life? Will he ever find anyone to care for him again? Will he be OK? How long will it take him to forget me?

Will he leave us alone or will he try to make me come back again? Will he become furious once he realises I am not coming back any more? Does it even matter if he becomes furious? Will he ever hurt me again? How do I stop myself from forgetting the pain so I won't be tempted to go back?

Does anyone out there really care about me?



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Got a message from a "friend" today. She was swearing and calling me names and talking as though she hated me on my voice message. She told me to fucking call her back. There is no way I'm ever calling her back. Ever. I'm going to text message her to tell her her words shocked me & that I do not appreciate being talked to like that. I've had it with people being down and outright rude to me - Why do I always have to say sorry to everyone and still people think that because I've left hubby that they can give it to me over a voice message?



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Why do I forget so easily? Maybe none of it really happened... maybe I'm just wanting to get out of my marriage so badly that I imagine it all... My bruises are almost all gone from where he kicked me. I wonder if he thinks about the times he's kicked and punched and slapped ect... does he have any remorse? True remorse? Or is the only thing he's sorry about is that I'm gone?

When I spoke with him before I got the apprehended violence order out against him he said he wasn't angry with me for leaving, to enjoy my short break, that he loved me, that he was sorry. But his voice was like someone who knew what was going to happen. As though he was sure that I'd come home this time. I can only imagine his shock when he was served the AVO. I doubt he'd ever think I was capable of going to the police for help... well mind you, he did say, "Don't go to the police or the dv unit or docs or anyone OK?" He sounded as though he was tired of me leaving, or exaserpated I should say... like he was starting to get really pissed off that I have left three times total now.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I can remember the first ultrasound for daughter when I was pregnant with her. I was roughly 8 weeks pregnant and he came with me to watch the ultrasound.She was so cute - wriggling away on the screen, wriggle, wriggle, wriggle, and we laughed him and I, we laughed together as though it was the most wonderful thing we'd ever seen. He looked so happy. Like all his dreams had come true sort of happy. He smiled at me. He held my hand as we walked to the train station to come home (at that stage we didn't have a car). He actually held my hand and smiled at me as though he really loved me. And I loved him. I was so happy. A beautiful baby in my tummy and a man who held my hand as we walked. What more could you want?



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


We'd been married only weeks - how many I don't know but it would have been a few I think. The first week was wonderful... he taught me how to cook some basic Arab foods, we visited his friends, he looked at me as though I was god's gift on earth. It all started to change slowly. He became unhappy with things I did. After a couple of weeks he was losing his temper more and more often and although I was trying really hard to make him happy he never seemed to be. He worked the night shift then and would yell at me for not waking him up for fajr. We also used to have halaqa daily where he'd teach me Qu'ran and at first he was really patient with me but my pronunciation wasn't very good so he'd yell at me, and after awhile he started to flick out at me with his hand in anger and eventually he started to hit me when I'd get my reading wrong. He also wanted me to stay awake for him until he got home at 1-2am in the morning...then either he'd get me to stay awake to pray the tahajjud while he slept or he'd let me sleep next to him. We'd (or me) get up for fajr early so we could listen to the adhan on the radio and the he'd go to the mosque while I'd pray fajr at home and pray the sunna and then make the dhikr. At around 7 he'd return home and we'd memorize the Qu'ran and then pray shuruq. I wasn't allowed to sleep but instead had to stay awake and prepare his lunch and iron his clothes and clean the house and pray duha while he slept until dhur time. Then he'd demand his rights in the bedroom before showering and leaving for work. He'd call me and call me and call me. There were so many rules. He became harder and harder on me and would slap me until I'd cry



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Anyways I think I can sleep now so off I go
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:27 pm

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

I can't remember when exactly he said this to me - but it happened sometime during the first months...

He told me about the way women are treated by their husbands back in his country... he said they were beaten to the point where their legs or arms would be broken - and then they'd go stay with their families for a few months until either the husband demanded her come home, or the family said for her to go home and make up. He said that many times they were beaten on their first night of marriage - but that he cared more about me than to have done that to me. I know, I know sounds weird... but this is the basic content of what he'd said. I was scared at what he'd said as by that stage he was already hitting me on the face and grabbing my arm and stuff and sometimes when he was angry for some reason he'd yell at me that he'd bash me like they bash the women back home. I never thought it was very bad - I mean they're just words eh? But they scared me - and I always jumped into line whenever he'd say this.

Alot of the stuff is really confused in my mind - I find it hard to sort it all out... things are all mixed up in my mind and with most of it I find it hard to sort out the when from the how from the other events. And with most of it (the physical and sexual and interrogations) has happened more than once so how do I know which thing happened when or even how it happened? They are all so muddled up in my mind...

We had curtains in our house & blinds - but hey that wasn't good enough for him eh? I had put up sheets as curtains as he wouldn't let me open the blinds unless I had the thick sheets to protect myself from being seen from the men. It was always really dark inside the house which was really really depressing - not to mention the fact that I wasn't allowed on the balcony for the first two years of our marriage (I think it was about that long) or outside made me really miss the light and become very pale. He would stand outside on the driveways both behind and in front of our house to check if it was possible to see anything from outside... he'd did this a number of times during our marriage, and many times he'd even close the blinds while the curtains were covering the windows during the day because he'd say the men can see. When I'd turn on the lights to give myself some light (duh!) he'd tell me to turn them off because I was "wasting" electricity. But as soon as he'd leave the house I'd open up the blinds (not the curtains I didn't dare in case someone saw and told him) and turn on the lights in the room I was in. We had so many fights about the blinds/ lights/ men seeing me/ me shaming him because the men could see me (which they couldn't but he was convinced they could - how can anyone see through a sheet?). Sometimes I had to beg him to let me keep the blinds open as I needed some light - sometimes he didn't even notice - sometimes it was the first thing he noticed when he walked through the door and I was in for it.

A friend (female) had processed our wedding photos. He'd chucked out the other film and had said we wouldn't be processing them. "Why not?" I asked. "I don't want anyone accidently finding your pictures of you." He'd kept the photos of the men's section of the wedding - but hey I wasn't allowed to keep the ones of the women's section (it featured only me and of him when he'd come in at the end of the wedding feast). But fortunately for me a friend had processed some and he didn't know about them - she gave them to me and I kept them well hidden from him, I knew he'd destroy them if he found them - hey I wasn't even allowed to have photos of me and the only ones I'd had he'd destroyed already. I still have those photographs and I'm glad I do as I think they are some of the happiest photos I have of myself and I love those photos...for once in my life I'd felt like a princess - beautiful and wanted and loved.

One day he called me, saying he knew I'd let some man inside our house while he was at work. He sounded so serious and angry. I was shocked. Why would he think that? I'd even gone to the extent of asking anyone at the door in a rough voice who it was before opening (only if it was female - never male as that was a big no-no) and I had to wear my hijab and stand behind the door while checking (even if I knew who was going to come and the voice had sounded very feminine ect...) as this was what he'd told me to do. He wanted to know what I'd been doing with this "man"? I told him no, no I would never let anyone in the house without his express permission, and he insisted that I had - I insisted I hadn't that there must be some sort of mistake - I would never ever do something like that - I loved him and didn't think of any other man - this was just a mistake. I started to cry and he was silent. After a couple of minutes he said, "What's wrong with you chick?! I was just joking. I was just joking with you, I was just testing you to see if you really care about me or not." I wasn't impressed but I just laughed-cried sort of thing while I said to him, "Don't you ever say anything like that again!" and some other things but I can't remember what they were...

I wasn't allowed to speak in public and when I did I was expected to whisper - and even this wasn't considered enough as he'd tell me to shut up and he'd look with a very angry demeanor... One time I was in the car (the back) with him and he was taking his friend somewhere. I kept my head down so W... wouldn't get mad at me. (this was before I'd had daughter - I was pregnant with her at the time) I had to try to avoid any looks from the brother as if he even glanced at me by accident I would get in trouble as soon as we got home. He rarely took me out and this was a rare experience and I was enjoying listening into W...'s and the brother's conversation as I rarely got to listen to the sorts of conversations they'd have... sometimes at home when he'd invite all his friends I'd try to listen in but it was really hard to do so as they'd be speaking mostly in Arabic and talking really fast and I had to be careful not to get caught and to make sure I the food ready in time. Anyways, we were all in the car and I was listening in to their conversation which was in Arabic and in English and they were discussing whether or not someone who speaks Arabic who is non-Arabic by birth whether or not he/she can be called an Arab according to Islam. I'd read some stuff on this so was itching to give my input to the conversation. So itching. In fact I was so itching that for a split second I forgot that I wasn't allowed to speak and I accidently started to speak. I can't even remember what it was that I said - but I didn't go very far as I realized to my horror what I'd done and promptly shut my mouth and looked at my black khimar (where my hands at W...'s demand are supposed to have been except that they were gloved and hidden under my khimar). W... shouted at me in front of his friend to shut up and stopped himself from getting really mad at me in front of his friend (he shouted and then glanced over at his friend and stopped himself from saying anymore - he was starting to say more but didn't because he was there) and gave me a dirty look and his friend just looked out the window and they continued talking as though it hadn't happened except that W... kept looking back at me with the horrible looks. I spent the whole time freaking out because of what had happened and just wanted the journey to end and us to back at home so that I could have it over and done with and not worry about what was going to happen any more.

I can't even remember what happened when we got home. I can remember so many times of different things happening when we'd get home because he'd be so angry with me because of the jealousy. The thing that stands out is the fear I had, the churning in my stomache all the way home that I couldn't enjoy anything - the worry that made me stop listening to their conversations so that I wouldn't accidently say anything... the worry about what would happen.

Anyways, will go now. I know these things aren't very bad eh? They just hurt that's all.

Anyways, bye for tonight while I go and watch House.
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:28 pm

Friday, August 01, 2008

Today I am feeling really low. Really really low. I'm not sure what it is, but I'm just feeling at the bottom of the barrel so to speak. I just want to cry and cry and cry. I just want to go home. back to him. and I know I can't.

How many times do you go through it and you can't even bring yourself to look at what has happened? The pain, looking into his eyes and seeing his anger, his disappointment in you, his fury, his looking at you as though you are the problem, as though if you just disappeared everything would be alright in his world, looking at you as though you caused him this anger you can see inside of his eeyes, the confusion you feel as you look at his face trying to work out what is going through his brain. He lifts his hand and you flinch, he comes up behind you suddenly and you spin around, he yells and you jump, the door opens suddenly and you dive for something to be "pretending" to do...

You look at your face trying to work out if anyone will notice the split lip and say that you've had dry lips that's all... you forget about the bite he made on your neck and forget to cover it... you forget the bruise on your arm and wonder if your visitor has noticed it and you quickly excuse yourself to grap a jacket on this sunny summer day...

You love him, or should I say loved him... how can you love someone over and over and over again when they continuously break your heart? They say they love you, they say they care about you - in fact they are the ones that truly care about you as they are making sure you don't do anything that would destroy your honour eh? Ect... and on and on it goes... he yells at you about accidently walking into the kitchen without your hijab on when the curtain had fallen down (you didn't know) and he slams you over and over again with his hands on your shoulders - it's because he loves you - he always has eh? he says that if a man had seen my 'awra (nakedness in arabic - however I was wearing clothes so don't think I wasn't) it would've "destroyed everything" and I am left wondering what that means...What would it destroy? A man accidently seeing my hair if he could even see it that is considering the blinds were only open a little and how many men are there trying desperately to peek inside our house on this "blessed" opportunity to little ol' me!?



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I am willing to fulfil his needs today. After all, if I don't he'll make me do it anyways. I settle daughter in front of the tv and breastfeed son to sleep and put him in the guest-room and tie the bathroom door to the guest-room door so daughter can't get to him... I knock on the bedroom door to see if W... is ready or not, and he tells me "just a minute"... I go into the kitchen and take a drink of water and brush my teeth again... He calls out to me to come and I go to the bedroom and let myself in. It starts off OK. He wants to kiss so I kiss, although by God I wish he'd brush his teeth as this is truly disgusting but I smile anyway and try to get it over with. He gets me to do the oral stuff - he almost always does - while he starts biting me. It hurts when he bites - it really really hurts but he doesn't care if it hurts me. He bites so hard - and he seems to enjoy biting my spine the best even though I try to run away when he does that. He grabs me so I can't go anywhere and bites, bites, bites... I cry with tears pouring down my face and bite my lips to try to not cry out lest he hit me for the infraction. Noise escapes my mouth as I can't contain the pain any more and my clenched fists struggle to remove him from my body. He grabs my upper arms with his hands and lifts me and throws me back against the wall, he jumps on me and hits me over and over, he grabs my hands and holds them above my head while he forces me as I cry in pain while trying to relax my pelvic muscles so it won't hurt so much this time. My muscles sieze up and he is unable to make any progress - so he uses his fingers to try to make it work. I try to get them to relax but they won't, and he forces his way in anyway, even though I am crying from the pain. He is finished and he smiles at me. He looks at me as though he loves me. He asks me if I enjoyed it and when i don't answer he laughs and says he knows I enjoyed it because he could see it on my face. He kisses me. He lays down and sleeps. I get up and go to the bathroom. I look after my kids. I am numb. Always. So very numb. I go into the kitchen and take out the knife, the one with the serrated edge. And I cut up my arm. A long thin cut. I am so angry at myself and numb...it's weird...I just cut, and cut and cut line after line. And then I feel better. And I wash the cuts. And I put on lunch. And on life goes...

And on life goes...



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Sometimes we had great times together, it was weird... like how there were times when everything sucked big time and then everything was wonderful... We went to the beach one time. Me in my black khimar and abayah and socks ect... pregnant (heavily) with son and darling daughter dressed with long sleeved shirt and long trousers and socks and shoes ect... W... was wearing his trousers and a nice shirt... it was a hot day, but sunny and beautiful and W... wanted to go to the beach with us - so we all went for a lovely outing. It was great. I got to sit on the grass under a tree while he and daughter went down to the water and walked along. I wanted to walk along too but wasn't allowed as there were too many men down there. Daughter loved the beach but was scared of the water and she kept on running up to me saying, "Look mama! Look!" He looked so happy. He went and made wudhu somewhere and came back and prayed in the grass. Then I also prayed in the grass. He made some comments about the women walking along wearing little and asked me yet again why they do that - how the hell am I supposed to answer that question? I've tried answering a million times for him and yet he has to ask me yet again! Daughter ran too close to the road and I got up and ran (as fast as you can when you're pregnant!) to catche her and W... started yelling at me to stop that he's got it all under control (even though I'd said to him W... she's going near the road, habibi, we better stop her now!)... He yells at her to stop, she doesn't listen, I don't know what to do - whether to keep running for her or to not in case I am just being overprotective and he really does have it under control. She runs onto the road and he jumps up and bounds after her and catches her. He comes back with her under his arm and he is frowning at me. He is angry with me and tells me not to do that again, that I showing everyone my body when I run. I say OK, but am worried, he doesn't care what happens to her, he wants to prove a point to me, he doesn't care if she runs onto the road... I am supposed to do nothing when my daughter is in danger...I am supposed to just stay sitting. I sit back down. I drink my bottle of water. Daughter is hungry. He says he wants to have walk some more. I sit there waiting. I try to enjoy the sun and the air and the beautiful scenery. After all when will we do this again? I have to just make sure I don't do anything that will upset him that's all. And there we go, I thought everything about this event that had happened was wonderful - but hey everything seems to always be painted with black colours... and I am being stupid for even thinking about all this stupid stuff.

Anyways, got to go, daughter wants some attention,
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:30 pm

Thursday, August 07, 2008

I don't know if they really believe me or not - maybe they think I'm exagerrating or trying to get revenge... what does it matter anyway I know what I've been saying is the truth to the best of my knowledge and that's all that's needed in life is to tell the truth and to believe in yourself...I think anyways, who knows, I am after all only one girl in a million lol...

Kids are much better, not sick any more and I'm feeling much better too. Got my medication increased as I think at the moment I need something to help me just a little more at this super-stressful time.

Husband wants access to the kids. I found out this evening. I cried after I spoke with the worker who told me. I felt like I'd been punched in the stomache. I can't imagine what I'm going to do now. Why? He never spent time with them before, why now? Why? I just don't understand why someone who doesn't spend time with his children all of a sudden wants to see his kids. I doubt he'll agree to supervised access - but I can't let him spend time with them unsupervised. He would most likely take them back to his country as soon as he had the chance. Oh God What am I going to do? I hope I don't have to go through much more of this...

Anyways, got to go put daughter to bed,

Lots of love from me
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:32 pm

Friday, August 08, 2008
Self CareAt dv group we were learning about self-care, so I thought I'd come on here and write some thoughts about it...

Self-care:

If I care about myself I will...

Make sure I get enough sleep

Eat enough & drink enough water & take my medication on time every day

Get some me time to recharge my batteries

Respect my routines so that everything gets done in an orderly fasion

Not accept abuse from anyone

and that's all I can think of for now...

So, this weekend I will...

Attempt to sleep enough

Eat three times a day whether I feel like it or not & drink up my water & take my meds

at an appropriate time

Give myself some me time

Follow my daily routines

Not speak with old friends who encourage me to go back


lLast night was a really tough night. I thought I was going mad... and I was thinking "I'll never be able to escape him will I?"

Today has been alot better. Went to the dv group, started out wanting to cry but by the end of it I was feeling much better.

Am going to see someone today whom I've known for the last three years. She has helped me so much over the last three years mostly just by listening when I was feeling down and also by telling me that she thinks I might be depressed... she is a professional - I won't say who just for safety's sake, but she truly is an inspiring person. I look forward to seeing her... maybe this will be the last time...

The children are asleep. I am tired but ok. Just spoke with a police officer again on the phone about the situation and now my stomache is in knots. I'm feeling really naseaus about it all...I don't want to do this but I know I have to in order to get through it all.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Just saw the above lady (professional) and she was great to talk with although the childcare worker sat in on our whole conversation which wasn't great as although the childcare worker is a lovely person - I did want to just spend time with this lady to talk with her one on one like we've been able to do in the past... I didn't really feel comfortable saying what I really wanted to with the childcare worker there.

Anyways, will be going to the doctor shortly. Had an appointment with the ED clinic at the hospital which I missed accidently as no one had told me when it was on so I'll have to organise another appointment.

Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:35 pm

Monday, August 11, 2008

Tired.

My eyes are sore and heavy.

So tired.

Fight! Fight! Fight! Up you get girl! Go on fight for what you want in life!

Freedom. Freedom to be human.

But. I. Am. Tired.

So tired.

I don't want to fight for my survival any more.

Why?

Why must I fight?

Doesn't make sense any more...

My eyes close. I drift off. And the words of the drum beat on steadyly...

Fight! Fight! Fight!



You get out of bad situations, but they keep on living... like a soul immortal memories live on. They say it's what dwell on... but I disagree - life is sacred. Every part of it. The good. the bad. the ugly. Everything in the world makes you who you are. Everything will give you something else to work with. With your life you can create great masterpieces of beauty or develish portraits of evil proportions. It's all in eyes of the beholder. It's only art afterall.



My life is irrelevant to anyone else. Everyone is responsible for his actions. I am responsible for mine own actions.

So what will I make with the materials I've got? Will I create a masterpiece?

You know, sometimes when you create an art work, you do something on the board that initially you think is a disaster. You hate it. You think you can never make the artwork look OK... but you keep on painting and all of a sudden everything falls into place. The artwork looks amazing afterall.

Life is like that. My life right now is just one part of a masterpiece we put together... it's not finished yet, don't worry - it'll be beautiful when done girl! Really!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My docs worker rang me this morning saying they'd gotten another report... apparently someone told them I'm back with my husband and have been in a mental hospital and self-harm... well hey the last part is true, I have self-harmed in the past but I'm not back with my hubby nor have I ever been in a mental hospital!

Where the hell did they get that shit from? Who the hell is sneaking on me when I haven't even done anything wrong... I haven't spoken with hubby since before the avo was given so why this shit?...

I'm weak. I hate myself. I hate my life. I am going nowhere. Life is crap. My husband is going to win and I'm going to end up losing everything in life. I just want to cry and cry and cry today. I want to scream and yell and shout at everything and everyone. I'm stuck in a place of nowhere and I've got no hope any more. I wish I could run away from the world. I wish I could hide. I just want to cry.

Why does he do this? Why has he tormented me all those years? What does he gain from it that is so worth hurting me for? Why was I even born? Why do I live? Why do I even try?

Shit this life is stupid. I wish I could say something positive about the after life but hey I'm doomed to hell 'cause hubby isn't happy with me and has never been happy with me...

Daughter's birthday is today. I gave her two presents and soon we'll have a party for her... I even sang happy birthday to her which if her father knew about I'd say he'd go bonkers about.

I'm so sad. I just want to escape this world. This is too hard for me. I'm too young to go through. I can't take this any more. I don't think anyone is going to help me and life is so fucking hard.

He'll find me again. He'll make me come back one way or another. Either that or I'll end up allowing myself to believe that what he did was OK. Hey my friend told me last night that it is his right under islam and I must've done something to upset to make him do that to me... so I started to doubt myself. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I'm the one to blame. Because I didn't have sex with him when he told me to. Afterall, like they say Allah doesn't command anything that is beyond your capability to carry out... obey the husband - and you don't because you don't want to expose the kids to something bad - and then you get kicked and punched and dragged into the bedroom and it's all your fault.

I don't think anyone really believes me. Why would they. I don't believe me. It was my fault. My fault. I should've done what he told me to. Why didn't I listen and obey? Why wasn't I more submissive? Then nothing would've happened... but as usual I got in trouble because I was so disobedient to him.

I want to cry. I want someone to cuddle me and tell me it's all OK. But nothing is ok. I'm in a crappy situation because I am stupid. And now I have to fight every day while I am so tired and exhausted and don't want to fight any more. I just want to go back to bed and sleep and cry and sleep and cry and sleep and cry and not ever get up again.

They say life is worth living... how? I want to know, how? How is it worth living when you'll never escape - he'll always catch up with you... he's bigger and stronger than you... he's more intelligent than you... he knows more about practically everything than you... what hope do you have? He has all the friends, the house to stay in, he's a man and can hide his emotion easily... you are a hysterical woman who is worth absolutely nothing to no-one. What's the fucking point? What's the fucking point of even trying any more? They'll find some excuse to take the kids off of me any way, or he'll take the kids back to his country, or I'll end up dead with no one to mourn my deceasement...

Yeah, sorry for the pity party, but hey, I want to have one and I'm going to have one regardless of what anyone thinks about me for being so selfish as to have a pity party... yeah, booooohoooo poor me! Crap!

I don't want to think any more. I just want to feel safe and secure. I want to know that everything is going to be alright even though nothing is. I just want to be safe. I just want to be OK. I just want everything and everyone to leave me alone.

He wants to see the kids. The docs worker said that he is their father so it's natural that he'd want to see them. Yeah, he's their father who the only time he spent with them was watching stupid terrorism videos online and getting his daughter to say fatiha after him... that's the time he spent with them. Yeah he's the father who says muslims who don't support his views ought to die... that's the father he is... what's he going to do if his daughter does something when she grows older like talks to a boy? What if god-forbid she had sex outside of marriage?...

No, no no he'd say, that would never ever ever ever happen in a muslim soceity... and when it does happen it's a big shame on the family... that's why those girls are killed because they've shamed their parents eh?

Am I going to have to live with this crap for the next 10-15 years or so? And what do I do when my kids turn to extremism and turn on me because I am not the muslim they wanted me to be? What happens then? What will they do to me because I don't wear the hijab or pray or do anything that "muslims" do?...

What do you do when your life is crap and you can see no future?

What do you do?

What do you do?

What do you....

Anyways, got to go... wish I could scream right now at whoever made that stupid report on me... stuff them... people are complete idiots and have no empathy whatsoever... I don't fucking well need this at the moment... I've got enough crap to deal with instead of having to deal with more docs reports and having them question me yet again...

fucking life.

stupid life.

I've got to go...
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:37 pm

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Who am I?

I ask that of myself. I see my image in the mirror. But who am I really?

I am human. I have blonde hair. Blue eyes that look blue or green depending on what I wear. But who am I really?

I love lanuages. Or I did. Until I married him. Do I still love them? Do I still love to learn new lanuages. I think so. I want to learn Russian and was studying it...

Who am I?

I can't see myself, who I am... I just see what everyone else tells me... What is it about ourselves that makes us see ourselves the way we do?

Hahaha, it's funny, I just promised you that I'd go to bed and nap, but now I don't want to... I want to write and write and write... I feel, I think, I am, I, I, I...

I still feel like that fifthteen year old who converted to Islam in her desperation for hope... I still feel like that fourteen year old who used to drive in the tractor with Oupa up and down those fields... who Oupa put his hand up your shorts-skirt and you were confused... why? he loved you, why would he do that? but he didn't do that again. You had frozen. You didn't know what to do. You thought right then, that's it, he's going to rape me now and there is nothing I can do to stop him... but he didn't. Ouma was waiting in ute with his lunch and he shoved you off of his lap quickly before she could see, and his face was stoney and red... You got out of the tractor as quickly as possible and blubbered words you can't remember so you could go home with Ouma and not drive with Oupa again that day.

I still feel like that thirteen year old who rode her bike up and down the dirt road with her brother. I still feel like the twelve year old who was frightened over Y2K and thought the world was going to end.

I still feel like that eleven year old who was kept in the room by him while he hurt you and you tried not to cry... while you tried to get through it all. while you tried to survive. I hated him. I hated him so much. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. Instead I retreated. Inside of myself. I pretended I was elsewhere. I saw myself from above. I couldn't feel anything. I wasn't really there. I was in the air watching myself while he hurt me.

I still feel like the little girl who held her dead brother Aaron in her arms. Beloved Aaron. I love you my Aaron. I will never forget you my little darling Aaron. His body so tiny. Red. His penis so small. A little boy. I cried for you Aaron. You were my brother. My little darling brother...

I kept that diary and you were on the first page... I drew a picture of you on the first cover... You my darling little boy whom I had hoped for so long.

I am still that little girl who played Aboriginies in the grass. I'd taken my clothes off, all of them and replaced them with the vine of the native passionfruit around my loin. I was 6 or 7 and I played in the grass, spying on my mother and her friend while I imagined that I was a real bonna fide Aboriginal.

I am still that little girl who cried because she missed her mummy... I am still that little girl.

The soul is ancient. It lives through every experience growing and learning but still ancient. What do I mean by this? I am still the person I was at the age of three... I haven't changed, not really, I've done things I don't like, I've lived through things I wouldn't want to live through again, I've made choices that were really horrible... but I am still me. I am still that little girl, and I think that when I am eighty I will still be her.

You don't change... you just gain attachments... personality traits you dislike or like... character atributes you hate or love... memories that grow on you like berries or like rotten branches standing on a part of you limbs... but it isn't you, it's just something that grows on you and you can change it if you want. It might take alot of work, it might be painful to cut off parts you have grown accostomed to but they're still only just that - parts you have grown accostomed to... not you.

You are a soul, immortal, and whether or not what happens after we die, the soul was there and maybe continues on in the minds of people... in the existence of the world... we existed and that's enough for me, whether the hereafter is good or bad or nothing at all... the fact is we existed and every moment we live on earth can be used to the best of our ability to be the people we really want to be... and maybe do something on earth that will bless those around us.

I always wanted to do something. Ever since I was a little girl. I wanted to help the world, make it a better place. I wanted to be a missionary and help people, and then I wanted to be like mother Teresa and then I wanted to be the best muslim I could possibly be. I wanted to be a ballet dancer who would make beauty every step across the stadge that she made. I wanted to own a chicken farm and grow those chicks up to be adults... I wanted to be a police officer and rid the world of evil and help people who were hurting out there. I wanted to be a nurse and care for people. I wanted to help. I didn't want to just sit back and do nothing.

Now I am being helped and am helping my children to grow up into the role of being resposible adults who have the skills to be the people they want to be - not the people I want them to be... People who are happy with the decisions they make and when they aren't happy with those decisions to work with it to make masterpieces they will be content with...

I can't really help anyone else at the moment although I do want to. Oh God I do want to. But I can't.

What that little girl wanted wasn't something bad. It was good. It was beautiful. But you were young and inexperienced... you were impatient for life to start and wanted to help NOW! You couldn't understand why it took so long for everything to happen in life and you've learned the hard way. Life takes time, you're not about to run out of time darling... time goes on and whenever you die is time to die. It's not to be feared or worried about. This is life and when you die that is the end of the painting... that's it. Death is something that isn't to be feared - it's just something that happens and happens to everyone.

Look at the mujahideen. They choose their own endings... they have finished their paintings. But how pretty is it? They die as those who are curses to mankind. They die murdering children and those who are innocent of bloodshed... they die in a state of pure conviction that this is the way they wish to die, but it is sad and desperate attempts at making sure they will gain some reward in the hereafter... how sad is the fate of the mujahideen... they die with a painting that will give the world little joy...

My darling, death happens, and will happen to you when your painting is finished and not before. Don't fret about the outcome. Paintings are beautiful in the eyes of the beholder and it is just the way it is... you can change whatever you dislike about your painting... but take it one step at a time and it will happen...

You converted to islam, you married a muslim, you are in a refuge with two children, you feel like no one cares what happens to you, you are worried about your future... don't be. Life is governed by time and time just happens day by day, hour by hour. Some die before they are even born and that is their masterpiece... the kicking of a mother's tummy... the movement of life... others don't die until they are past their 100th birthdays and that's OK too. Time goes on. Life goes on. It is like a game. You move, life moves, you move life moves and so on and so forth.

Life is beautiful just because it is. Life will work itself out. And in the end everything will turn out OK. That's the way life is.

Be the person you want to be and life will take care of the rest. Be strong for you are worth it. Don't let others run your life - your life is your masterpiece and no one elses. W... has his own masterpiece to work on and it is his decesion what he will do with it. If he wants to blow up his masterpiece then that's his responsibility - but don't give your painting to anyone else to complete... it has been given to you afterall just because you survived... and you continue to survive.
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:42 pm

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

So, will be going shopping today! Wooooooooootttt!!!

Oh, will be buying me a skirt and perhaps some trousers that don't make me look like I'm like ten times bigger than what I actually am... Damn arab harem pants!hehehehe I think I'm becoming hysterical due to lack of sleep hahahahah! talk about getting the giggles!

Didn't eat dinner last night, and haven't eaten breaky this morning, don't want to eat to be honest with you... I just feel naseaous. But I'm going to find a coffee shop this morning and will get myself a cappuchino! and eh mum, will get myself something to eat don't worry!

Would like to buy a decent pair of girly shoes this morning... we'll see...

Anyways, Did not get much sleep last night due to darling son waking me up every two hours so he could drink... Really don't know what to do with him at the moment... I'm so tired every morning he does this and I'm getting really fed up. Will have to plan a way to deal with this late-night-breastfeeding...

Bashed my head last night lol! Was bending down to pick up son and bashed my head really hard into the mantle above the fire-place! Man, talk about hearing a crack! It hurt so much and got a real egg on my head from that one! Now I have a bruise on the top of my head at the hairline and the skin is broken where the impact had been.

Anyways, will go now, got to go get ready to go shopping!!!

Lots of love from me!
Have you ever had to face the hardest descisions in life and made them regardless of how scared you are to doing them?

Have you ever had to live with the fear that you could pay for this with your life?

Have you ever wondered if maybe you are truly insane for worrying about all of this?

Have you ever had a panic attack because you just realized you've well and truly stepped over the line into that of becoming a traitor well and truly?



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


My heart is racing, my mind is speeding through with thoughts. I am wanting to cry yet again. Why must I always feel like crying? Why do I cry so little? Why is everything so hard to go through?

He will never understand why I've done this. No, I'll be the murtad to him. The kafir. The faasiq. The munafiq.

Helping the kufaar is an evil never to be commited. It is on-par with shirk. Traitorship is deserveable of death. By any muslim who finds the one who's betrayed the muslims. They are not slack with their beliefs. They do not say things for nothing. They mean business.

Every Iraqi police officer, soldier, politician and supporter of democracy is deserving of death. They kill any they find over there unless they are being used to infiltrate the enemy. Every westerner is seen as the enemy and will be used. How many men and women were beheaded just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time?

What do you do when you are married to someone who supports these actions? What do you do when the man you married watched beheadings online... the ones where they saw the head off? The ones were they have no shame in taking it slowly with killing an innocent person?

What do you do?



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I am so lonely. This morning I missed him so much. I couldn't understand why I missed him so much but I did. I wondered if I'd done the right thing by leaving... maybe I should've stayed... maybe things would be different... maybe he'd change and maybe life would be ok.

But here I am. I've made some really tough descisions. I'm so scared you know. What's going to happen? How will they protect me? Will the protect me & my kids? Or do they think I'm just some hysterical woman who's paranoid?

I miss being able to look after him... I know that sounds weird, but I do. I'm grieving for my marriage. I'm grieving for the man who cried in my lap when he was upset that he wasn't doing the things he really wanted to do in life... I'm grieving for the man who held my hands and kissed me sometimes like he truly loved me... I miss the man who cuddled me and held me in his arms sometimes. I miss the man who's laugh was beautiful and funny at the same time. I miss him. I'm grieving. I can't help it. I'm grieving. I'm homesick. He was like a little boy sometimes and I'd try to look after him and make everything better and at other times he was like a raging bull. And I miss that little boy, I miss him.

But I cannot put myself and my kids through that again. I can't allow myself to forget it all.

Is there any future for me and my children? Is there any hope out there for myself?

Will I ever be safe from them finding me? If he gets access to the kids, what's going to happen to our safety?

No one seems to understand or care. We are just numbers in their books. Numbers in the government's computer system. When will this all be over?

When will I be free?
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:45 pm

Thursday, August 14, 2008

You know when you feel like you are on the last of your battery supply? Like you're going to conk out at any moment? That's the way I feel at the moment. I feel like I'm ready to conk out. I'm so tired. So very, very tired and I don't want to get up to do anything today. But hey, I've got to get myself some new batteries eh? Or recharge the ones I've got.

I'll be talking with a legal person today. I've got to write down some questions I've got to ask that person and I'm not looking forward to trying to put my words into order... I feel rather groggy and horrible and hung-over even though I haven't touched a drop of alcohol!

Man, I'm so tired! Saw some pictures of my family last night, I can't believe how much they've all changed - except mum and dad of course! Dad just looks a little grayer, and mum doesn't look different at all! My sister - I didn't even recognize her at first and was shocked at how beautiful she has become. And with my youngest brother - I wouldn't have recognized him in a million years if he'd walked down the street and introduced himself to me.

Man! I think daughter is waking up. I sure hope not. I need some me time. Just me. No crying baby, no toddler asking for food while I'm cooking it, no one to ask anything of me, just me time! I'm feeling rather selfish just now, I know, but how on earth am I going to recharge these batteries of mine when all I feel like I do is give, give, give...



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


There are 16 men coming to our house today. 16, yes you heard me right, 16! He invites them over, all his friends, they all come for dinner and there is little warning for me. I'm usually told in the morning and am expected to have an extravvagant dinner ready by maghrib in the evening. We have two small children yes, but that doesn't faze him in the least. There must be maftoul and dolmahs, cake and custard, stuffed quail and salad all for these men. And there must be lots and lots and lots of it. He wants to be the hospitible man you see, like Hatim from the time of Jahiliyah, who killed his own horse to feed his guests. So I cook and cook and cook and cook.

He walks around the kitchen, checking on my progress, tasting the food, yelling at me, hitting me, chucking the food, getting upset. I didn't cook the chicken just right did I? No, I was meant to boil the water before putting it in, not the other way around - although last time I did this it was exactly the opposite that he was mad at me for. The yelling goes on and on and on. The children cry for attention. I put on a dvd for daughter, I try to breast-feed son while cleaning ready for the guests who will sit in the guest room. Husband walks around fretting, will everything be ready in time? Will the house be clean enough? Will they like the food? round and round he walks. He doesn't help. He just walks around the house and checks on my cooking to see if it is good enough for his guests.

I don't pray the duhr, or the 'asr or the maghrib for that fact. How can you pray when you know that you've got xyz things to do before he comes home from the mosque and you have to get it done or else you'll be in for it? If you are praying when he walks through that door and the things aren't done he'll get upset and he'll hit you for it and you'll have to endure his wrath until his guests arrive.

They arrive. you have spent all day cooking. You are tired. Your heels are so sore from standing up. You feel like the bone in your heel is trying to go through the skin. The kitchen's a mess. The kids are tetchy from lack of attention. You're wearing your hijab and abayah as although the men are shut in the guest room, husband still demands that you wear this outfit just in case. You still have to put the kids to bed and get the desert served up just the right way onto the trays. You still have to make chai. You still have to wash all the dishes and mop the kitchen floor and clean the kitchen benches.

There is no food left for you to eat of course. Only enough for the men. It doesn't seem to matter how much I make, there is never enough for those men is there? I get the left-overs. Whatever my husband leaves me on the trays when they go out for 'isha salaat. I clean up the guest room to prepare it for the next round of food and I cry. There are bones on the carpet, spilled food in-ground into the carpet. A spilled cup of juice or chai. And I've got half-an-hour to get this room spotless again before they come back. I'm so disgusted as I pick up the bones off of the carpet, Why can't they put the bones of the lamb into a plate instead of depositing them onto the floor? Why do I have to pick them up... It is so disgusting.

I serve them their desert onto the trays, and then go and knock on the door and wait for husband to answer the door. I make sure I stand well to the side so that no men will see me from inside and when he opens the door I pass the trays to him, trying to keep my hands covered with my khimar.

Finally I am able to relax. It is ten o'clock at night, his guests are still talking and shouting and laughing. The kitchen is clean, they've been served the last of the chai and deserts and fruit. I open the bedroom door and go in to lay down on the bed. I can't take off my hijab or abayah because of the rule he's made regarding when his guests are here. I sleep. He comes in, I didn't even hear the knocking on the door, he comes in happy because his guests are happy and he's enjoyed himself. He comes in and wants to talk to me. I can barely hear him, I'm like a mummy who can't move and can barely talk. He leaves me to sleep. I sleep.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Anyways, got to go, daughter has just woken up and is in my bed now trying to lay in front of my computer and she is already asking for breakfast.
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Za Aug 16, 2008 2:46 pm

Friday, August 15, 2008

The EpiphanyIt's

5am in the morning and I've just woken up with an epiphany!

Just by leaving I have chosen my destiny. I have chosen where I want to go in life, who I want to be, where I want to be. I have, just by leaving him, I have said no to being hurt any more and yes to freedom. I have already proven to myself that I am capable of being strong. That I do not deserve to be hit or controlled by anyone regardless of their "reasons" for doing so. I have in effect said that it is not OK and that there are no excuses.

I am strong.

I am powerful.

I have taken back some control of my life.

So, where am I going to go with my newfound freedom? What can I do now that I've realised that I am actually capable of choosing? Who am I going to be?

It's amazing this feeling I have, I can be who I want to be and if someone tries to control me again and hurt me then they will have to face the consequences by the authorities. Someone is on my side! The Australian government does care what will happen to me and my children and you are stronger than you've believed up until now. You aren't just a survivor, you are a warrior woman who has said no to the man who assaulted her!

Look me in the eyes darling! You can be that nurse you always wanted to be! You can move to the country if you want to... you can leave the curtains open all night and all day long if you wish! You can pray or not pray according to how you feel. You can play music and dance to it. It's your choice. It's always been your choice, and you are strong and have already proven to yourself that you are capable of standing up for yourself and your children.

I am proud of you. Who do you know of who is capable of going through what you've gone through and actually managed to stand up to the one person who has demeaned them almost every day for four and half years? Who? You my love are a strong determined woman, and you should be proud of what you've done so far...

At the dv group they'd been talking last week about how self-care is the only thing that will help you when you've got PTSD. They're right you know. I never realised it, but my session with the legal person yesterday made me realise, I'm stronger than I ever thought, and I do have people out there who will help me if I need it, and I won't have to spend every day of the rest of my life fearing for my life because there are ways that I can protect myself and my children. He may be strong, and big, and intelligent - but hey - I've forgotten something very important here! I'm intelligent too man! I'm a smart girl too you know?! I got out when I needed to get out, I put on my best ya habibi act for him so he'd think nothing was up while I packed after our fight, I did what I'd needed to do in order to protect myself and my children and in his own self-conceit he just assusmed that you'd be coming back to him. That he'd win. That you'd come back to being kicked up the butt and punched in the face and yelled at and on and on and on. He just assusmed that because he's so used to being important and obeyed and having his own way. Well, who said I can't do as I want? He did?! Well, he's not in control any more is he? You my darling have taken back the reigns of your life and you can live your life as beautifully or uglyly as you wish.

It is your choice.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Ok, so I know, the above is so obvious it's just not funny, but it really was an epiphany to me! I woke up and just felt so amazing, like for the first time I've realized that I am free, that I have taken a big step towards freedom and that I am stronger than I've thought all this time I just didn't know it.

Watched Mr Brooks last night, and loaned the Saw triology to one of the other people here at the refuge. Hope they like it lol, hope they didn't pee their pants with all the horror in those classic horror films. :D

I'm still tired but will survive it again I suppose, remembered this morning that I'd forgotten to take my medication yesterday which is really a big no-no... I just hope I don't experience too many side-effects because I'd forgotten yesterday's dose.

Anyways, will leave you all to enjoy your wonderful days and I will go and enjoy mine,

lots of love,

me
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Ma Aug 18, 2008 10:30 pm

Saturday, August 16, 2008



Hahahahahahha, I'm feeling like crying yet again!

Wonderful isn't it?

Man, I'm tired yet again, but I think son is learning to sleep all-by-himself yet again, we hope anyway. He kept me up most of last night and I got out of bed every ten minutes to pat him and tell him, "It's sleep time sweetie-pie, no I'm not going to pick you up, you have to sleep..." ect... He eventually fell asleep in his own cot and this morning the same thing yet again. I hate it when he cries, I feel like my heart is about to break and I have to muster up all my self-control not to go and pick him up and carry him around. But it just can't keep on going on like this, I'm getting less and less sleep because of his night-time feedings and during the day I can't get anything done because he wants to be held... so I have to get him to sleep on his own like he did when he was younger.

I'm feeling desperately lonely this weekend. Fun isn't it? I mean, what's the difference between me feeling lonely here and me feeling lonely when I was back with him? At least here I'm safe. At least here I can do things with the kids without worrying about him getting upset. At least here I won't be hit or kicked or anything. At least he can't hurt me. But I feel lonely. I want to call my friends. But I know there is no point in calling them, they only make my resolve weaker through their many comments and islamic advice. I shouldn't doubt myself, I've made the right decision and need to stick with it. I don't know what to do to stop feeling so alone, maybe I'll go and watch a movie once daughter is asleep for her day time nap. That always helps, or maybe I'll go on runescape and talk to some other role-playing geeks like myself - the only drawback is they're mostly 13 year olds who talk in that weird cyber lanuage I can never quite get. Either that or you get those pedophiles coming up to you and asking you how old you are and giving you heaps of cyber goods and hoping on hope that you'll give them your email or something.

Daughter is playing with her playdough, it's so cute, she just gave me some playdough "medicine" lol! She has been through so much and she is such a strong little girl. I think she takes after me sometimes, you know that stubborn streak where no matter what happens you keep on fighting whether actively or passively for survival. Oh, now she's making playdough "drinks" for us all. Sometimes it scares me to think of her getting older cause I wonder, how am I going to care for her, I don't know anything about caring for a 6 year old or a 10 year old or a teenager, but I guess that's just part of being a parent, learning along the way. And maybe I'll get some good friends who have been through the teenage years with their kids and can give me advice regarding how to deal with situations. Now she's making up a song and dancing to it in typical three-year old fasion! And now she's having a tantrum about sitting on my chair, got to go, will be back shortly when things have calmed down!

She's happy now as she's sitting on a chair next to me! Positive parenting really takes the sting out of most situations... just got to work on being more consistent and eating more as I'm finding I haven't got much energy these days and I know I'm losing weight as it hurts to sit and lay down and do just about anything like it did last time I got to this weight.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


How do you miss someone when he hurts you so frequently? How? Why? When will these feelings go away? I miss him you know, I miss seeing his smile, feeling him cuddle me, hearing him tell me something nice... These are the things I think I miss, but how long has it really been since he did those things for me anyway? The day before our last fight he'd hugged me, it was wonderful, it was just a sincere hug with no strings attatched. A hug that was so soothing as I hadn't gotten hugged by anyone for weeks before that... but I can remember how scared I was too, I knew it wouldn't last even though I was hoping against hope that it would last. I was wondering to myself, when, when will the penny drop? When will he explode? So I wasn't suprised when the next day he did that to me. I will never find anyone again will I? I know, I know, selfish thoughts eh? I shouldn't even think about that. We're safe and that is all that should concern me, not about spending my old age alone with no one to love me.

Like the times he hurt me weren't that bad you know, they were mostly a slap here, a kick there, and him forcing me. It hurt but it wasn't like he had tried to kill me or anything. The times he hit me and kicked me over and over again were just when I'd been disobedient and had made him angry. Mostly to do with sex or disagreeing with his doctrinal lecturing late at night.

You know, I don't see myself as having been a victim or being subjugated. You just do what you have to do in order to keep the peace and when something is worth fighting for (like daughter going to daycare which he didn't want) you fight for it, it's as simple as that. I think he realized that there were some things I wouldn't give ground on although so many times I did come close to giving up on because you doubt yourself so much and wonder how much more you can take. With daughter going to daycare, I fought so much to keep her in although almost every day he gave me grief on it. He hadn't hit me about the daycare issue, and I'd told him that if he made me take her out that I'd leave him because I needed the break, but he'd go on and on and on about it. every fucking day. The daycare was teaching her to become immoral, it was teaching her christianity, it was teaching her to play with boys, it was teaching her blah blah blah... She'd grow up to become a lesbian or a non-muslim because I sent his daughter to daycare. Sometimes he'd hit me after an argument which was mostly one sided with him telling me to take her out and me standing strong on the issue that no, I wouldn't take her out no matter what. I'd try to bring in all of the forces I could by mentioning muslim women I'd known who put their kids into daycare and would mention them to try to make my position stronger, usually I'd end up being close to tears, but I'd made up my mind that if he made me take her out of daycare I'd leave because I knew that that would be the just the begining of me losing the rights I'd managed to obtain while I'd been at the other refuge. It's weird, like sometimes he'd hit me during an argument or him trying to get me to do something that wasn't possible, or I was being disobedient on or that he thought I was being disobedient on or I was having a bad attitude or had been apparently flirting with some man or something or other - and then at other times he'd hit me after we'd had an argument or fight whatever kind of like he was punishing me...

I was always safe in the bathroom though, he never came in when I was in there, and I wasn't allowed to go in there when he was in there. It was like a no-go-zone for him. I would go in sometimes just to try to escape his rantings, but he'd yell at me until I'd come out, and the problem was that I wasn't allowed to take the kids in there unless I was bathing them or toilet training daughter. He'd say that I shouldn't spend much time in there as the jin would go inside me, and he'd lecture me on it over and over again. But it was a safe place for me. They say in the domestic violence websites - don't go inside the bathroom or kitchen when the man is becoming aggressive (because of the hard surfaces) but that was one place I knew I was safe as he wouldn't come in when I was in there... he had some sort of paranoia towards the toilet and was always worried about the najas contaminating him (or myself).

After we'd been in the refuge and had come back to him, the first time he hit me again, he did it in front of daughter, and because it had been so long since he'd been like that towards me she screamed and grabbed onto my legs while he was on top of me hitting my face while I was sitting on the couch while I was pregnant with son. I was worried about the weight of his body on my big tummy, worried that he might hurt the baby, so I wasn't really all that worried about him hitting my head or grabbing my hair and banging my head with his hands, all I could think about was about the baby and getting daughter out of the way so she wouldn't get hurt by husband because of her screams. He didn't like her screams although it was perfectly normal for a toddler to scream when her mummy is being hurt and she is scared you know.

Sometimes when he'd hurt me in front of daughter I'd try to laugh and say to her it's alright sweetie, baba's just playing, which would infuriate him even more, but she'd just look at me confused I know I'm a bad mother for having stayed, but I did try to protect her. I know I should've left sooner and no excuse I ever give will be good enough. I'm so sorry sweetie that I stayed, I'm so sorry darling daughter that I made you put up with that sort of behaviour from him. I wish I could change the past but I can't, I can only try to make your future better eh darling?

Although they say pushing and shoving is also domestic violence, I didn't see it as being all that bad, I mean it's just a shove isn't it? I mean, I didn't get hurt or break any bones and there was no blood from being pushed so why complain? You just make a big deal out of nothing I'd tell myself.

It's good to talk about this stuff, as I realize I don't really miss him, I don't miss the fights or being hit or having my children subjugated to watching it happen. I don't really miss all that, and my life now is much better, and I will enjoy today and will do something that I enjoy later on... maybe I'll do some crochet like I'd planned!

Anyways, lots of love,

me
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Ma Aug 18, 2008 10:39 pm

Sunday, August 17, 2008

So today has been a great day for the kids! We went to a playland where daughter jumped and ran and climbed ect... for the whole morning. Fortunately for her I am small so was able to go on the slide with her when she was too scared to do so and also to climb up the big climbing thingamajigy when she was crying because she was too scared to get down all by herself. Son also had a little fun, although he was pretty tired because he spent alot of last night crying again.

Ate a non-halal sandwich today, which is rather weird... Felt rather naked with no hijab on and even though others have said I'd get used to it - it is taking quite awhile.

Hmmm... what else can I say? I haven't really got much to talk about at the moment. I'm just tired and can't be bothered to write much or think much or do much. Did all my cleaning early this morning, and now just want to have a nap. Hopefully son will sleep now and won't cry like he did last night. Anyways, will go now, hope my life turns out ok,

me
11:37 PM
The trees in the forrest surround you thickly and you know you won't be able to come out easily. You look around and all you can see are leaves, dark bark and more leaves and little droplets of golden rays falling through the canopy. It is timeless here, and not a sound can be heard except the occasional call of a bird in the distance and the rustle of the leaves in the wind. Of course you are here in this space that occupies earth and you exist in the place called no-where. How to get through you wonder. How will I push through that brush? You take a step towards the growth and then another until your clothes are being scratched by the twigs. Your hands reach into the foliage and pull back the growth as far apart as you can. You squint you eyes and venture through... This is the start of your journey, this is the start of your life.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Man weekends suck! They're kind of good in that I get a break from all of the things I have to do during the week... but still, there's no one to talk to, nowhere to go, and nothing to do apart from come on here, play with the kids, cook, eat and watch movies.

Daughter is telling me she wants some food, so I guess I'd better go and get her something.
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Ma Aug 18, 2008 10:43 pm

Monday, August 18, 2008

You know how frightening it is to come home and have to check to see if the car is in the driveway or not because you need to be ready for any response if he gets home before you? I used to hate sneaking out of the house, and even when he'd given me permission, if I got home after him for whatever reason, sometimes he'd got nuts on me. I'd walk through the door and try to think desperately of some good excuse, any excuse so he wouldn't mind... sometimes if he was in a good mood he wouldn't mind too much and just scold me, but at other times... He'd ask me where I'd been, why I'd taken so long, what had I done? Who had I been with? Why did I spend so much money (on basics like nappies and onions and things like that)? Who did I think I was? I didn't respect him. I didn't fear Allah because I didn't make my husband happy. The woman who went outside was a jin regardless of how she dressed. My abayah was too tight (even though my abayah was larger than most women's abayahs and thicker as well). My bum was sticking out. I had no reason to go out... blah blah blah. He'd punch me in the stomach, or just slap me up the side of the head, or he'd push me against the wall and shake me while telling me off. But I was stubborn... as I always am, I'd call him before going out to see how long I'd have before he'd get home so that I could gauge whether I had enough time to go to the shop to buy nappies, or meat or whatnot. The thing is that if I didn't have a decent meal on the floor (not table he doesn't eat on the table remember - we didn't have a dining table - it isn't "sunnah") I'd get in trouble and if I went shopping I'd be in trouble and sometimes I'd have no nappies and have to survive with a peeing all over floor toddler and then he'd get mad at me for that. So I couldn't win no matter what I'd do. Sometimes I'd go walking in the rain with my daughter in the pram with no umbrella to buy ingredients because I'd finally managed to sneak some money and seeing as I had nothing in the fridge to eat or in the cuboards I had to go and buy from the shop so that he wouldn't get upset that night with me. It was so frustrating trying to make sure that he wouldn't get upset. It was so hard to try to make him happy and it didn't seem to matter what I did, it was never quite good enough.

Rules, rules and more rules, and they are never ending and ever-changeable. They move like oil over a surface and cannot be relied upon to be consistent at all. I tried so hard, so very very very hard to be a good wife. I stayed at home, I obeyed, I cooked nice meals nightly, I tried not to say anything wrong, I apoligeised when he punched me, I washed his feet when he'd come home and take his shoes and socks off the moment he walked through the door. I listened to him as though he was all I ever wanted to listen to, and I tried not to cry when he'd force me to repeat fatiha over and over and over again while hitting me for my incorrect pronunciations even though I didn't hear the incorrect pronunciations myself. He'd get mad at me for crying and hit me again, and would make me say it again and hit me for saying it wrong and when I'd shut up and stop saying fatiha he'd hit me for not saying it. It was so frustrating, I'd just be hoping that the halaqa would end and that tomorrow something would take up his time so he wouldn't make me do the halaqa with him.

I'm so tired, I think I'll go to bed now, I don't know what I'm going to do if I have to go through another sleepless night tonight with beloved son. Anyways, I'm going to get off of here now,

Me.
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Elif
Berichten: 51
Lid geworden op: Do Aug 21, 2008 8:12 pm

Berichtdoor Elif » Vr Aug 22, 2008 6:59 am

daar heb je het weer het kleine groepje slechte moslims zorgen voor de slechte naam voor ons.
en het ergste is europeanen zijn er al te blij mee

Gebruikersavatar
Lodewijk Nasser
Berichten: 5995
Lid geworden op: Ma Aug 14, 2006 1:58 am
Contact:

Berichtdoor Lodewijk Nasser » Vr Aug 22, 2008 7:54 am

Waarom generaliseer je? Je hebt het over Europeanen. Wie zijn dat?

Ik ken weinigen die er plezier aan beleven moslims op hun bek te zien gaan.
Tussen droom en daad staan wetten in de weg en praktische bezwaren.
Willem Elsschot (1882-1960)

Gebruikersavatar
Freya
Berichten: 1257
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 25, 2007 2:57 pm

Berichtdoor Freya » Vr Aug 22, 2008 7:57 am

Integendeel, ik ben er helemaal niet blij mee. En ging het maar om een klein groepje, dan heb je er niet zo veel last van. Trouwens, ik weet nu wel bijna zeker, dat je bekeerd bent door een relatie met een moslim.
En dat is waarschijnlijk iemand van turkse afkomst, je noemt jezelf Elif, en dat is een turkse naam.

Wat ik altijd zo grappig vind, is dat als mensen zich bekeren tot de islam, dan meteen ook hun naam veranderen. Meestal een arabische naam, want blijkbaar spreekt en verstaat God alleen maar arabisch, volgens de arabische moslims. Maar turken gebruiken tenminste nog de turkse voornamen, vaak vertaald uit het arabisch uiteraard.

Gebruikersavatar
Ariel
Berichten: 63580
Lid geworden op: Wo Apr 07, 2004 10:30 pm

Berichtdoor Ariel » Vr Aug 22, 2008 1:04 pm

Elif schreef:daar heb je het weer het kleine groepje slechte moslims zorgen voor de slechte naam voor ons.
en het ergste is europeanen zijn er al te blij mee


Denk jij dat dit jou niet kan overkomen Elif. We hebben op dit forum 2 ex-moslima's die het wel overkomen is. Beide waren bekeerde vrouwen.
Ik heb contact met deze vrouw. ( van deze weblog. Ze is pas 21 ) en ik kan je vertellen dat ze het op dit moment heel moeilijk heeft.
Ze heeft me toestemming gegeven om haar diepste gevoelens op dit forum te plaatsen, omdat ze hoopt dat ze andere bekeerde moslima's kan waarschuwen, en ze een riem onder hun hart kan steken.

Blijf haar strubbelingen volgen Elif, misschien kan je wat van haar leren.
Wim Camp, CDA... 'De islam is onze bondgenoot"
I Stand with Israel

Gebruikersavatar
naar boven
Berichten: 5060
Lid geworden op: Do Nov 16, 2006 10:14 pm
Contact:

Berichtdoor naar boven » Vr Aug 22, 2008 1:50 pm

Elif schreef:daar heb je het weer het kleine groepje slechte moslims zorgen voor de slechte naam voor ons.
en het ergste is europeanen zijn er al te blij mee

Dikke pech.
Dat is nu eenmaal zo.
Slechte moslims zijn exemplarisch voor hun 'religie'.
Slechte christenen daarentegen zijn 'kleingeestige mensen met een gebrek aan relativeringsvermogen'.
RTFM


Terug naar “Een moslim in mijn leven”

Wie is er online

Gebruikers op dit forum: Geen geregistreerde gebruikers en 1 gast