It don't break even

I've wanted an excuse to use The Script lyrics since 2011

Ramadan Mubarak to all those who observe. We’re already two weeks in, Alhamdulillah! I’ve been enjoying fasting in Istanbul — it’s the first time I’ve ever been in a Muslim majority country for Ramadan and, honestly, it’s making my heart very full. I think I’m going to try and come back next year for the entire month. Anyone want to join me!?

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A month since my last post yet I’ve got amazing interviews in my drafts that I’m yet to share.

Why?

I’ve not really wanted to write about love and sex whilst going through heartbreak. I mean, who wants to write about what you’re not getting!?

But then I remembered I started this space to share stories, learnings and anecdotes about love and sex, so why should heartbreak be the line? Isn’t that an important part of the entire experience? Isn’t that low what makes the high so worth it? Isn’t the fear of destruction the reason we try and build such tenderness? I realised that not writing about it feels like another layer of shame I’ve imposed on myself. So here I am, hoping not to bore or depress you to death. I swear Brown Bodies isn’t going to become my dating diaries though!!

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On grief

Heartbreak shows me the kind of grief I’ve only ever read about in books and seen in films. Remember that One Day grief? Or those overly dramatic Bollywood moments that had us all balling? Kal Ho Na Ho or Devdas, anyone? Well yeah, that. It’s different to the grief I felt when I lost my grandad or the grief of seeing family go through health situations or the grief I feel for Palestine. It’s not better or worse, it’s different.

It’s a grief that has me heaving and ugly crying on my parents’ kitchen floor because I can’t hold myself upright. It makes my appetite disappear and has everyone commenting on how great I look because I’ve lost weight. It’s the sort of grief that has me begging sleep to take me away for a few hours from the anxiety that’s taken over my body (and makes me realise why Taylor Swift has hit single after hit single because, omg, I didn’t know I had these levels of dramatics in me).

Then, there’s the grief for a life shared, the stories entrusted in another, the in jokes that can’t be explained, the dreams for a life that we’d hoped to play out. There’s also a grief for the digital footprint. Messages, photos, notes…where does all of that go? It’s not like I can shove it in a box in the attic (maybe I should channel this energy into building a solution for this. The founder in me never dies!)

There’s grief for the physical too. I miss being held. It’s funny that the person I feel heartbreak about is the person I want to comfort me. I can’t even begin to contemplate the idea of building safety and trust around my body with someone new. Brown Bodies exists for a reason. This stuff is a BIG DEAL™ for me and I have been on a journey. I am on a journey.

It’s not just the ‘we’ that is lost. There’s mourning for the me only he knows. An identity lost.

And YET…there’s so much good. 

I’m glad to have chosen and invested in a relationship wholeheartedly so that when it ends it breaks my heart. A woman I know shared words with me I’ll never forget: “Let this break your heart wide open so you know how deeply you’re capable of loving the next time.”

I’m proud that I still believe ‘love is the only rational act.’ Thank you Tuesdays with Morrie for those gorgeous words.

I’m proud I never listened to an ounce of popular advice on being aloof because it brought me joy to not do anything by halves. It brought me freedom — away from fear or shame — to believe in how I felt and what I wanted.

Then there’s my parents. I had asked them to accept my relationship before being married. Being Muslim, this isn’t really a done thing. But they did. They accepted my choices without question. So telling them it was over and they’d probably (hopefully) have to do this all over again with someone else feels…ugh. Yet, they’ve cared for me, sent me on holiday, cooked for me, and allowed me to spend hours wallowing or watching comedies with them. My relationship with them is forever altered. I needed reminding of the blessing they are. 

My friends also remind me of the importance of deep meaningful platonic love and the need for community. I have it and I’d forgotten its power, joy and downright hilarity. They’ve held me. Cooked for me. Cried with me. Holidayed with me. Advised me. Listened to me. Shared their love with me. Prayed with me. Had fun with me. They’ve reminded me of everything I had before and everything I have after. I’ve also been taught that growing up means friendships can flourish even when the relationship that originally brought you together ends, and that is beautiful.

I’ve been honest at work, with friends and family about where I am and what I’m feeling, and and it’s sparked conversations I never expected. People I barely know tell me stories of heartbreak that brought their worlds crashing down. Of divorce, of cheating, of their partners not being ready, of religious differences. People tell me their stories of grieving for love they thought would be forever, and wasn’t. People share their grief of a loved one dying and thinking they’d never love again, only to find home in another heart down the line. I find solace in the stories of strangers. I find faith in the openness, connectedness and vulnerability heartbreak has inspired in us.

And I am affirmed. In my capacity to love and to accept love. In my understanding that I am loving and am loveable.

Somehow, I end up turning all of this into a goddamn research project.

Like I said, the founder in me really never dies. So I thought I’d share some of the things I’ve read.

Attached by Amir Levine and Rachel S. F. Heller. A lot of the Reels I was being served by the algorithm (which knows way too much!) talked about attachment styles. So I ordered it and it explained so much! I do think there’s place for further research on the intersection of culture and attachment styles because I definitely think there’s nuance in there that is missing.

Transitions by William Bridges. My friend suggested this as a must read. It’s about closing chapters before opening new ones and navigating that no mans land in between them. I can’t recommend this enough if you’re going through life changes, whether it’s work or personal; good or bad.

The body keeps the score by Bessel van der Kolk. One of my favourite reads in ages. It looks at what trauma is, where trauma comes from, how it plays out, the role of therapy and politics, and so much more. It’s excellent. Please have a conversation with me if you’ve read it! I listened to this as an audiobook but I definitely plan to read a physical copy, highlighter in hand.

The Qu’ran. Turning to my faith has kept me centred. It’s true when the Qu’ran says, ‘Verily, in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest.’ As well as, ‘Verily, with (this) hardship (too) there is ease.’ (We Muslims like the word ‘verily’)

Part of our faith is to believe in Qadr (fate). One of the most often quoted bits of the Qu’ran is, ‘What is meant for you will reach you even if it is beneath two mountains. What isn't meant for you won't reach you even if it is between your two lips.’ and I’ll always keep returning to this.

Hey from the thermal baths in Pamukkale, Turkey

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