Loss

It has finally sunk in. Despite the reflections of the day past, I still cannot get over much of the sorrow I held deep in my chest. I tried to maintain a smiling countenance and composure, but this was quickly overshadowed by the barrage of put-downs I continued to face. Sometimes I wonder how even trivial words can have such a monumental impact on a person's aura. And when you feel being deliberately discriminated against and ignored, while someone else you respect gets all the praises and attention, it makes life weightier and harder.

Last night, a thought constantly entered my mind. "What is the meaning of being ALIVE?" If being alive means being disappointed, unfulfilled, unaccomplished, attacked, ignored, deprived, then what is it that keeps a person holding onto this thing called "life"? And then I realised most of the actions I had taken for the past 5 years, including the decisions to study at Oxford and travel abroad, were meant to address this lingering question. But these were not, by any means, solutions to the problem. Rather than face them, I merely put off the troubles so that they have intensified to such an extent that I can no longer cope with.

The countless people I met during my travel were on my mind, too. Sayeh, the beautiful and generous Persian woman, who had given me more than I could offer. Yet in her true life, she faces numerous obstacles, perhaps worsened by the fact that many young people in Iran have to constantly fight for basic freedoms. And then Said, the man who looks too mature for his age, who can be a kind brother and a realist at the same time, being forced by circumstances to become independent. Or Mohammad, the hospitable engineer and shop owner who has accomplished many things on his own, including a stunningly spacious and atmospheric home. And yet he has a void in his heart as well. Despite being totally marriageable and financially independent, he finds it hard to seek a woman he loves...Or Miss Inour, 21, a bright, philosophical Iraqi woman refuged in Damascus who aspires to study at Beirut. She has lost so much at a tender age, having to work hard as a career woman unlike many of her counterparts. And though religion and the headscarf have empowered her, Inour continues to face battles like many Iraqi refugees who have survived the devastation of their homeland.

I, myself, have not had to face such harsh realities. And yet it is still hard to get over the emotional battles within. Dignity, perhaps considered by some as an abstraction that can be easily given away for more practical matters, is what I have wanted. And yet the quest for dignity can often be in conflict with your other aspirations. This is precisely what I have felt recently. I had to face a trade-off between my job and my dignity. In the end, I lost both and was physically and mentally exhausted. I stayed in my bed for two full days and in a hospital bed for 3 days.

And then the events of the past two days forced me into a dilemma. Should I defend myself, with the possible trade-off of losing two friendships? The end result turned out to be much the same as the events of the previous month. I lost both.