Life in Pause

 

Hi there,

It’s been a while since I last updated my blog—so long, in fact, that I almost forgot it existed. That was until two nights ago when I had a dream where I struggled to articulate my thoughts. It struck me how much blogging had once helped me become a better storyteller and writer. But life, as a parent and a corporate worker, has kept me so busy that I’ve neglected something I truly enjoy: writing and expressing my feelings.

Part of my hesitation has also been fear—fear of criticism. When I first started blogging back in 2009, I could never have imagined a world dominated by platforms like TikTok, Twitter, and Threads, where criticism is so casually thrown around. In Malay, we’d say terpaling kenal—as though everyone assumes they know best.

I despise that culture of snap judgments, where people read clickbait headlines and make countless assumptions. Criticism is one thing, but spreading hateful comments is another level entirely. Yet, I don’t have the energy to engage with such negativity or explain why those comments shouldn’t exist. After all, I have my own flaws, and the least I can do is ensure I don’t fall into the same trap of harshness and unwarranted criticism.

These days, I’m more of a silent reader, steering clear of comment sections that only serve to cloud my mind with toxicity.

I’ve also distanced myself from TikTok; it feels like a time sink. Instead, I’ve gravitated toward Instagram, where I follow pages shedding light on the atrocities in Gaza and the Middle East—places like Syria and Lebanon. Watching the news unfold, I often find myself wondering: beyond spreading awareness, boycotting, and donating, what more can I do to help?

It’s been over a year since October 7, 2023, the day the genocide escalated. The emotional toll has been immense. While Palestinians endure unimaginable calamities, I can’t help but feel a sense of guilt when I think about updating my own life on social media.

My Instagram stories now center more on Palestine and far less on me. There’s a deliberate choice in this. I feel more at ease not showcasing my personal life online. There’s no longer a need to impress or seek validation. My struggles feel trivial compared to the suffering of the children, women, and men of Gaza.

Instead, I’ve spent more time reading Aida Azlin’s Tuesday Love Letters, reflecting on The Clear Quran, and contemplating how to become a better person. Life on this earth is fleeting, and I often ask myself: how can I improve as a person, a wife, a daughter, and a mother?

Last December, I was blessed to perform Hajj. It’s been a year since that life-changing journey, and I still haven’t published the blog post I wrote about it—it sits quietly in my drafts.

One memory stands out vividly. I met a Palestinian woman during Hajj who wept as she asked me to pray for her family in Gaza. Her pain felt so raw, so immediate.

Another poignant moment was at Raudhah and during our visit to Uhud Mountain. I cried deeply, thinking about the sacrifices of the Prophet Muhammad SAW and his companions. Their struggles made it possible for us to embrace Islam today, and I couldn’t help but reflect: have I truly been grateful for this blessing?

I’ll leave this post with that thought.

It’s just 14 days until 2025, and there are so many updates I wish to share—not on social media, but here in this safe space. Maybe I’ll write more. Maybe I won’t. For now, it feels like enough to put these thoughts into words, even if no one is reading this but my husband.

Till then,

Lots of love.