february '23
consistency amid chaos
and how are you this lovely march morning?
again, this letter is reaching you much, much later (like, absurdly later) than expected. i’ve been a little scatter-brained lately, which has made organizing my thoughts, and then articulating them, quite the task. in fact, any attempt to do so results in more thoughts, so i’ve now decided to just let my mind run as it pleases. you know well that my thought process takes on a frantic nature rather than fluvial, so together, we’ll see how this unfolds.
deep breaths.
inhale
…
spiritual peace is so difficult to maintain.
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my childhood-borne pinterest obsession has caused me to romanticize every single part of my life—even the foods i want to try.
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do i actually want to do this, or is it just because i hate the feeling of seemingly great opportunities passing me by?
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i literally love fujii kaze.
…
why was one of the first snowfalls of 2023 during spring break? it’s not even the kind of snow that you can build a snowman out of, it’s just sitting sparsely across the landscape in gross lumps, falling victim to the random 40 degree temperatures and blinding sunlight of this tuesday morning??? what.
…
“Are you there, God? / It’s me, Warsan. / Maladaptive daydreaming, / obsessive, dissociative.”1
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coffee sounds good right now.
…
etc
…exhale.
those are the least weird of the bunch. i won’t even bother to elaborate on the existential, depressing, melancholic slash indifferent miscellaneous parts.
all i can muster out of myself in this moment is word vomit after word vomit. every day, for the last two months, i’ve been on go-mode. there has been so much to do and little time to think about any of it—and as a professional thinker, that is literally my worst nightmare. i am someone who counts on still moments, physically quiet and mentally indulgent moments, to endure life’s often-cyclical nature. occasionally, i will forego what i can just to achieve it.
it’s largely a product of my past chronic overworking tendencies. work-life balance is my 2023 “resolution,” if you will.
we are living and growing, even if in the tiniest increments!
trying to throw away meaningless thoughts for the sake of a clearer mind becomes hard when you convince yourself that every thought holds some significance, one way or another. these days, i’ve become so hyper-focused on every single little thing, my brain is utterly fried. i am mentally overstimulated and subsequently unproductive, during a time when my productivity should be on high drive.
as i write this, i look back on my scattered february, in search for a common thread. maybe the idea of something consistent can calm my racing mind.
also as i write this, my mother sits beside me as we each sip our respective dark roasts, like we always do.
wait.
for one of my college application essays, i talked about my mom.
i discussed my split identity in the context of our relationship. growing up in a mix of two very defiant cultures, navigating teenage life with its own distinct set of trials, all while not really seeing eye-to-eye with my mother, for whom i am her first child in a country that isn’t hers.
we would go for days not having real conversations with each other.
and because i’ve always been an ocean vuong enthusiast, i drew a connection between our relationship and the mother-son relationship depicted in vuong’s novel “on earth, we’re briefly gorgeous.” the story’s protagonist, nicknamed little dog, navigates the broken relationship between himself and his mother, who struggles with addiction and ptsd from the vietnam war—all while searching for his own identity in america.
one of my favorite lines from the essay says, “like little dog, i never truly expressed how i felt because i had yet to understand myself nor did i possess the clarity to try to understand her [my mother].”
time and patience healed those wounds. now, i can certainly say this: i cling onto my mom like a leech. and as i look back on this scattered february of mine, the one thread that connected all my days was mama. her presence is single-handedly the only element of consistency in my chaotic life.
she is my best friend through and through. thank God. Alhamdulilah for my mom.
listen, arab culture is largely family-oriented. it’s not uncommon to see children from arab families living with their parents until marriage. these same children attend college, study diligently, work successful jobs, contribute to the home, and live fulfilling young adult lives.
of course, i speak from the perspective of an arab-american living in the west.
it is not always a matter of parents wishing to control their kids. and believe me, i have argued with my own about it time and time again. rather, it is the value that arab culture places on the family as a single unit. we don’t operate as individuals necessarily. our families play a big role in the decisions we make and the attitudes we enter the real world with.
when i was young, i didn’t realize how much my family meant to me. i wanted to take on this independent attitude despite my obvious lack of knowledge, experience, emotional capacity, all of it. again, i was a kid, desperate to feel understood and incapable of understanding others.
nowadays, i latch onto mama like a literal toddler. i wake up every morning and dash straight to her for a hug—and the woman can’t stand hugs (she gives in, though). i come home from uni just to spill every minuscule detail about my day and reiterate my entire thought process to her in two different languages over a pot of coffee.
at this rate, she may just throw me out of the house.
i know mama and i will never escape our differences. but every day, i grow older, and better understand just how funny her jokes are. her words of advice are no longer mean, but forward, as a way to counteract my passiveness. her company is warm in its consistency. even with the toughest of love, and even in our disagreements, she is always beside me.
consistency amid the chaos: mama.
Who I am without her around?
She's the one to tell me who I am in the morning
See me rise now, see me rise now
And when my days are filled with doubt
She shows me the way out
She spin the world round, spin it right round
“She’s My Sunshine” — Celeste
one of my mom’s mottos is “one problem at a time.”
perhaps us over-thinkers should start listening to those words. don’t feel entrapped in your thoughts. it’s okay to throw them away for some time. it’s okay to focus on just one thing, as opposed to the mental multitasking we subject ourselves to.
this messy, overdue letter acts as my nth attempt at untangling my thoughts. i’m not certain it worked, but i am certain that once it is sent, i will go bug my mom. loom over her shoulder as she scrolls through facebook. laugh with her a bit. maybe brew a pot of coffee and make her play with my hair.
don’t forget to be grateful for little slivers of consistency. i can happily say that this space, too, is a consistent part of my life. once again, thank you.
sincerely,
mays
From “Extreme Girlhood,” a poem by Warsan Shire.
Amazing. I teared up reading about your relationship with your mama. Your writing inspires me.