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The Jewish people have a custom known as Sitting Shiva. It’s when someone dies and you stay indoors even after they are buried. You mourn the deceased. You talk of their memories. Your neighbors and family bring you food and tell you they are sorry. And they sit Shiva with you for a while. Then they go, and someone else comes.
At the end of sitting Shiva, you have mourned the person all you possibly could. Plus you have cabin fever. And cannot wait to leave the house and resume life.
I feel like that’s what I’m doing. Sitting Shiva for an ended relationship. Mourning the death of a dream. Of hopes and aspirations. Which just like with death, is through no fault of mine. Going through the stages of grief. Shock. Denial. Anger. Negotiation. Acceptance.
My friends sit Shiva with me although it’s not their loss. While I have some wonderful memories, that now seem foolish as they could ALL have been based on lies, my friends now feel free to say just how much they hated the guy. How they mistrusted him from the start, but kept mum to keep peace. How better now than later. And how I’m obviously better off without that prick. (Their words, not mine.)
They also have funny stories that make me laugh through my tears.
But all through, I sit in pain. Unbelievable, heart wrenching pain. It never seems to go away. Even when I get reprieve it hovers, waiting to come back and occupy my heart.
Unlike mourning for the dead which has a proscribed number of days, I don’t know when I will be finished Sitting Shiva. But deep down, waaay deep I might add, I know I will. And I can’t wait for that moment, where I will be so weary of mourning, I will get up without a word to anyone. Jump into the shower. Make myself all pretty again. And go out to resume life.
Wounded, scarred, yet unbowed.
I hope it will be soon.
Tue, 6th August 2013
#DearLord How are you? I hope the task of managing all of us is not driving you crazy.
#DearLord I keep asking you for a sign. I suspect you keep sending me signs but I keep ignoring them.
#DearLord I hear Your voice. *whispers* Is my voice louder than yours? Why am I so conflicted?
#DearLord How about a really clear sign? Like a note, signed by you? Or even a tweet?
#DearLord Am all for listening to my Spirit. But what if my Spirit says one thing today and another tomorrow? In that case did my Spirit change it’s mind? Why?
#DearLord I’m all for growth and stuff, but would you ensure that I DON’T lose my mind in the process?
#DearLord I hate being wrong. It’s not my fault, You made me like this.
#DearLord If you move me past one thing, you are taking me towards something better, right? Even if I can’t see it?
#DearLord Thank you. I love you. You rock! :-*
“The Lord moves, the earth is shaken”
So I finally went ahead and decided to tweet God these questions that I’ve been longing to ask. – at the risk of not being considered a good Christian 😉
As per the suggestion of one my followers, let’s call these the
#DearGod how are you?
#DearGod Allow me 1/365 1/4 days to go “Why Lord Why?”
#DearGod Had you made me a good liar, my life would be way easier. #WhyLordwhy, am I so sincere? I thought I was abnormal till the other day!
#DearGod Why do I still trust people? Haven’t all the events showing me NOT to, been to make me learn that? Lord, I don’t think age will cure this condition.
#DearGod some people I know just keep doing nasty things to people Day in and Day out. They never seem to get punished, but people who try to do good (this includes me Lord) they seem to get hurt alot #WhyLordWhy?
#DearGod and why is it every time I try to do something bad I get busted? Others been doing it forever, not a single bust! #WhyLordWhy?
#DearGod why did you make me so impatient? Was that not supposed to correct itself automatically when I went to church or read the bible?
#DearGod now that we’re talking, am really hoping you’re OK with short prayers. Some people say “I went deep into prayer” that confuses me. I mean I have never woken up at 3 and prayed till dawn. Some people swear by that formula. Should I be doing that?
#DearGod would you do me a favor and mark out the nasty men with a pair of horns and a tail? Maybe make them carry a pitchfork for good measure?
#DearGod sometimes I say curse words – when it seems like no other word could express what I feel. Do you mind? What if I do it in church?
#DearGod kicking, pinching, hitting and punching is allowed once in a while, right? How often?
🙂 #DearGod thanks for this great convo we just had. You’re the only one who can hear me when I don’t actually say anything. #Love
#DearGod am really sorry for the times I didn’t hear you when you were speaking to me. Am sorry too for all the times when I’ve tried to assist you in doing your job. I’m I’ll try my best not to assist you again. Lol!
#DearGod Thanks for listening to me. Shall we do this again in a year’s time? During which time I’ll try not to ask #WhyLordWhy?
#DearGod Do have a wonderful night.
Love always, your beloved Miss Mugethi. xoxo
I can’t date my platonic friend
the one who calls me
and we talk for hours
The one I vent with
when we’ve had a bad day
The one guy whose
face lights up
every time he sees me.
We can’t date,
He gives me sage advice
when I have a big decision
He dares tell me don’t
when no one else will
He tells me
of his girlscapades
and listens to
I think dating
might ruin our friendship
I love him
but I can’t date him.
It’s a bad idea.
10 things I’ve noticed from watching @citizentv’s #Naswa
1. Kenyans are basically very helpful. Unless of course you have been bitten on your nose by a green snake. And it’s still dangling!
2. Most people did not attend the class where they were taught to use a wooden object to save someone who’s getting electrocuted.
3. People will still run from an ugly ass face even though they know youre wearing a mask and trying to scare them.
4. Kenyans generally don’t expect a glue sniffing chokora to land a dance with a beautiful lady in the middle of the street.
5. Kenyans are medical drama addicts! They will try to resuscitate a madafu with just a little encouragement.
6. The fastest way to get yourself beat up is mistreat a baby in public.
7. Kenyans don’t really need to know why everyone is running. Run first, ask later!
8. Coasterians have a lil time to spare – you can get them to watch a dancing cop, get their measurements taken…basically anything. *runs to hide*
9. If you have a physical handicap, you can get away with a lot! Blind guy bathing in public, wandering prosthetic arm.
10. The fastest way to get a bunch of ladies smiling at you is stand in the street issuing them with flowers
As I celebrate my 30th birthday, gotta give it up to my greatest Lover!
Jesus you rock! I love you!
New King James Version (NKJV)
For the Chief Musician. A Psalm of David.
1 O LORD, You have searched me and known me.
2 You know my sitting down and my rising up;
You understand my thought afar off.
3 You comprehend my path and my lying down,
And are acquainted with all my ways.
4 For there is not a word on my tongue,
But behold, O LORD, You know it altogether.
5 You have hedged me behind and before,
And laid Your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
It is high, I cannot attain it.
7 Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence?
8 If I ascend into heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.
9 If I take the wings of the morning,
And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 Even there Your hand shall lead me,
And Your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall fall[a] on me,”
Even the night shall be light about me;
12 Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You,
But the night shines as the day;
The darkness and the light are both alike to You.
13 For You formed my inward parts;
You covered me in my mother’s womb.
14 I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;[b]
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.
17 How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God!
How great is the sum of them!
18 If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand;
When I awake, I am still with You.
23 Search me, O God, and know my heart;
Try me, and know my anxieties;
24 And see if there is any wicked way in me,
And lead me in the way everlasting.
I suspect am going through a midlife crisis, hehehehe
First my pink phase is soo not over.
Am seriously looking for a pink Blackberry (a Pinkberry :)) do those exist?
If a pink flat screen TV existed Id buy one of those. Word!
Then I went ahead and did the dirty dirty 🙂
I trimmed off my lifetime hair to a measly 9 inches!
I did this to get rid of the relaxed thinned hair.
It still hurt like heck! I winced every time my sister snipped with the scissors!
Now am going all natural and am all excited about it!
Ive even been trying protective styling like cornrows. I used to do this all the time in college but now I just feel wierd.
I guess I’ve outgrown them (smh)
A lovely lady directed me to this fabulous blog with cool tips about maintaining natural African hair!
It seems me and my friends are on a roll coz most of my friend are cutting their hair/and or going natural.
So back to the midlife crisis,
Today am dressed in skinny jeans, checked canvas shoes with a turn up (i know there so common but i reaaaly wanted them, lol!)
Arafat scarf, hair held up in a mohawk…. does this sound midlife crisis to anyone?
Lets all keep in mind that am twenty something though (ahem, important point not to be forgotten)
I Have Learnt
The big 30 is looming!
It’s supposed to be a scary time
What with saying goodbye to my 20s
I love saying “I’m 29”
Now I gotta say am 30???
However looking back at my journey
Am so glad
to have come thus far
for I have learnt so much.
I have learnt to live
And not merely be
I have learnt who I am
An amazing self discovery
I have learnt what I am
I have learnt what am not
I have learnt what love is
I have learnt to love
I have learnt to trust
I have learnt to forgive
I have learnt patience
With myself and others
I have learnt that 1981 —à
Is actually my life
I have learnt my passion
I have learnt my values
I am learning
I have learnt my power
And my limitations
I have learnt
Where God begins
where I begin
Where others begin
I have learnt
To shed the baggage
And travel life
With just my luggage
I have learnt
That my box of blessings
And only mine
I have learnt (through loss)
That sorrow and suffering
Are my companions
To the High Places
I have learnt
That the journey matters
Not just the destination
I have learnt
Is secondary to faith,
love, a relationship with God
I have learnt
to let go
and give up
control to God
I have learnt there’s a place
Inside my heart
That can never
I have learnt
Why I exist
Just for love
Yesterday I undid the temporary dreadz that I have been sporting for 6-7 months now.
I put them on coz I felt my hair was thinning (coz of stress), and a bit of a break from tonging, blowdrying, flat ironing, and of course combing.
Two things happened as I was carefully undoing them (I ignored my loctitian’s offer to magically undo them without much combing. My scalp is just too sensitive for that stuff!)
First is that what looked like tons and tons of hair fell off. Not to worry too much about that, seeing as I hadn’t combed it in 6-7 months, just clearing off the backlog 😉
Second thing it that after the process was done I could hold all my hair with a small scrunchy and take it round 3 times!!! That never used to happen! Small scrunchies could only go round once – on a tame hair day, and could never hack on a frizzy day! I miss the frizzy days!
I got tempted, for a moment there, to cover up my hair with scarves and hats for as long as it took for me to feel it has grown sufficiently thick again. Or trim off the thinned parts and remain with unrelaxed growth only.
I feel lost, like I have lost something…
I think my hair could be my identity!
My locks, my jihad
Back to the hair – thinning stress mentioned above. I have noticed I always lock my hair whenever am going through a trying period, or a defining moment, and unlock it when I feel I am past it.
I was watching a video blog by a lady who said “My hijab is my jihad” (my Islamic veil is my struggle). She went through phases of wearing and rebelling against it depending on what she was going through.
I think my hair, and more specifically my dreadlocks are my jihad.
I’ve always known, for instance, that if I suffered a devastating loss I would shave off my hair.