Category: Personal Thoughts

I’m not sure where to start, but I guess I should introduce Joel first since most people don’t know him. Joel was a physics professor who eventually became the chief tech. He was a super passionate physicist; you could hear the excitement and how much he loved his work every time he explained something. Unfortunately, he had a fall in his early 30s that severely injured his back. He had to give up teaching and take on a tech role instead, and he’s been in a wheelchair ever since.

He hated Trump’s guts, lol, and would talk shit about him all the time. He was very vocal about it to everyone’s face, whether anyone else liked it or not. I loved that—he was on the right side of history. He would talk about delicious recipes that he had learned in Haiti and would tell me how they’re made. He loved food. He loved and respected his mom; he was a good son and always made sure his mom was taken care of. He considered me his daughter, and I thought of him as a father. He was extremely intelligent, a feminist, and had a big heart. We would talk about world matters, injustices that are going on, my marriage, the type of husband I want (lol), religion, etc.

He was the type of person who spoke from his heart. Let me start with how we met. I was a freshman in college, and he was looking to hire an assistant. Now, every time anyone saw the physics assistant, all the students would turn the other way, lol. I was one of them. Who would want to work as an assistant in the physics department unless you really wanted to be one? Physics = hard = craziness.

Anyway, I remember I needed to find a department to work in, and physics was definitely not the one. Joel saw me near the cafe and called me over. He asked if I wanted to work with him, but I told him I didn’t think I was smart enough to work in physics. He laughed and told me not to worry and that the work wasn’t hard at all. I just had to make sure the lab had all the equipment for students to do their experiments and clean the boards. I looked at him and thought, “That sounds a little too easy.” No way I’d only have to do that. I asked him, “Are you sure there’s nothing else?” and he said, “I’m sure.” I went along and started working with him. Who would have thought that for the next two or three years, I would be working with him every semester and he would become an important person in my life?

I’d do the work (only setting up the lab and making sure the board was clean before class, which was maybe once the whole time I was there, lol) and use the rest of my hours doing all my schoolwork, watching movies or shows, or just chatting with him. I had so much free time. He’d always tell me to rest and watch my shows.

He’d call me “my daughter” and would always say, “How’s my daughter doing?” I’d chat with him about all sorts of stuff. I remember one time he asked, “My daughter, I’m embarrassed to ask you, but you’re the person I feel comfortable enough to ask. I wear diapers since I’m in a wheelchair, and sometimes it starts dripping. Could you please let me know if you notice or smell urine? That way, I can go and change.”

My heart broke hearing him say that to me, and I thought someone must have commented for him to bring it up with me. His wife was a nurse and would take care of him at home, but he didn’t have that support when he was at York. He’d talk about how it was becoming more difficult every day to deal with this—to be intellectually intact but unable to do anything physically. He was strong. He’d always say “still alive” to everyone, or to me, when asked how he was doing. I told him, “Don’t be embarrassed, and I will tell you if I smell anything.” He said, “Thank you, my daughter.” Since then, I’d tell him if there was any smell and make sure the floor didn’t have any urine.

COVID hit, so I couldn’t go to college, and I got really busy with my life. He had moved back to Pocono, Pennsylvania. I wasn’t a good daughter. Joel called me one day and jokingly said, “Shouldn’t the younger ones be checking on the older ones?” I chuckled and said, “Sorry, Joel. I’ll do it more often.” He prayed for my family, and I did for his. After that, we would speak here and there.

I spoke to him last year, and he was severely sick in a nursing home. He had gotten COVID and wasn’t doing well. I prayed for him. He got better and was receiving physical therapy so his legs could hold his weight. I told him to give me his address so I could visit him, but he never sent it. I thought he did, but I remember so vividly that he recovered, and I was happy for him. Last month, I sent him a group picture we had taken during college. He didn’t message back, which wasn’t unusual because he never did, but I got worried. I called his phone—no response. Then I called him on WhatsApp—no response. I was extremely worried now.

I spoke to the security guard at York, who has been working there for a long time. I asked him if he remembered Joel Gomez, since Joel always needed security whenever he came to York because of his disability. The guard looked at me and said, “Didn’t he pass away?” I looked at him and laughed, “No way!” I told him that I had spoken to Joel at the beginning of this year, and he was fine. It felt like I hadn’t spoken to Joel that long ago.

Now I was truly worried because Joel hadn’t gotten back to me. So I went through all our messages to see if he had ever sent his home address. He hadn’t. I decided to check the York website to see if I could get his address. But the moment I searched for him, the first thing that popped up was, “Joel Gomez, Beloved Science Chief CLT, Passes Away.”

I couldn’t believe it. I felt dissociated and couldn’t bear the thought that he was no longer here. I felt disappointed in myself for not checking on him every day. How? How could he die? Why????

He passed away in March 2025. I was not there. I did not speak to him. I wanted to say, Joel, I am sorry for not being the best daughter. I am sorry for not being there. I am sorry for checking up on you this late. I am sorry for thinking about you this late. I am sorry for not coming to see you. I am sorry. I love you, and I will keep you in all of my prayers.

If you read all of this, then please make dua (prayer) for him. May Allah (God) forgive all of his sins and bless him with Jannah (heaven).

If you have people in your life that you care about, please let them know every day how much you care, whether it’s with affirmations, hugs, or a call to see how their day was. The worst thing that can happen is having regrets. So hug your parents, siblings, and friends before it’s too late.

I thought I had a writer’s block. I was not being able to write or how to express what I am feeling. Whenever I am on a blank page, no thought runs in my head. It’s just blank. So I kept thinking it was temporary writer’s block and that it will go away and I will be able to write again. But it’s been almost two years and a half and I am still in that mode. No matter how much I am hoping it is temporary and will go away eventually, as time passes by, the more I am losing hope and think maybe something shifted in my mind because of all the stress and emotional trauma. In the past, when I had a blank page I would write so much and my mind used to run like a machine running consistently without a stop. I would have so many ideas, and comparisons, being able to express my real-life experiences on a page but now it feels like a dead end. I am done waiting. I am thankful at times because I am not overthinking or thinking a lot but at the same time, my ability to overthink and express it very clearly is just dead/dry. It feels like my trauma overtook me to the point that it kind of shut it off- as if it cannot handle it. I do not feel the need to explain, to put extra effort into relations or plans but rather focus on myself and prioritize my mental being and self. People no longer are more important than me, myself, and I. I am important. My mental health is important. Building myself is a priority. My family is a priority. My self-work is a priority. Nobody ever put in that extra effort to make me feel otherwise the way I have been doing. So why should I? I will be the best version of myself mentally and physically. I love me. God loves me. It does not matter if people love me or even like me as long as I do and that is enough.

Early in the morning I still get a little bit nervous
Fightin’ my anxiety constantly, I try to control it
Even when I know it’s been forever I can still feel the spin
Hurts when I remember and I never wanna feel it againDon’t know if you get it ’cause I can’t express how thankful I am
That you were always with me when it hurts, I know that you’d understandI don’t wanna lose control
Nothing I can do anymore
Tryin’ every day when I hold my breath
Spinnin’ out in space pressing on my chest
I don’t wanna lose controlSometimes I still think it’s coming but I know it’s not
Tryin’ to breathe in and then out but the air gets caught
‘Cause even though I’m older now and I know how to shake off the past
I wouldn’t have made it if I didn’t have you holding my handI don’t wanna lose control
Nothing I can do anymore
Tryin’ every day when I hold my breath
Spinnin’ out in space pressing on my chest
I don’t wanna lose controlI need you to know, I would never be this strong without you 
You’ve seen how I’ve grown, you took all my doubts, ’cause you were homeI don’t wanna lose control
There’s nothing I can do anymoreI don’t wanna lose control, oh-oh-oh-oh
Nothing I can do anymore (anymore), anymore
Tryin’ every day when I hold my breath
Spinnin’ out in space pressing on my chest
I don’t wanna lose control

~ZOE WEES

Sometimes I see things, and I hear them, my brain can’t comprehend and my heart is disturbed; it breaks apart, and I wish I could do something about it, but I know that the only thing I can do is be patient and make dua (pray) that for it to get better and for God to guide them to the right path. The misogyny, patriarchy, negativity, and lack of women empowerment in certain societies and cultures, encouraged by women themselves, surprises me every time I see it and hear it. I wish I did not live in this world, there are people in this world who believe this is their heaven and that this world is beautiful, but I believe that the world was beautiful, but it has become ugly and cruel. Humans are complex creatures with very cunning and shrewd brains. Destroying things that we do not understand, not similar to us, different, unique, at different pace levels, exploiting the innocent and naive, manipulating, blackmailing, abusing their superiority, abusing animals, abusing nature, murdering, raping… Yet, some people want to live in this world and believe this is their paradise. It only takes one fear to destroy multiples lives. To me, this is hell made by humans. An Illusion. Some humans beings lack understanding, empathy, sympathy, humanity, respect, and love. Hearing my own mother calling me an animal, someone with no brain, an idiot, a donkey, and other things because I said what our religion teaches and that she follows people rather than her lord. That she fears what people are going to say and the importance of reputation; while being ignorant to the teaching of Islam and claiming to be a Muslim when she does not follow what she claims to be. If our God can forgive us for every mistake or sin we commit, then why is it so hard for us to forgive other people? We are so far blinded by our cultural beliefs that we do not see our own mistakes, the things we say to others, our behaviors, actions, etc. Why do we claim to love someone, but if they were to make one mistake, we throw them out from our lives as if they do not matter at all? If we can do that, then do we really care about them, or is it just to show off? Why have we become so strong in our beliefs and biases that we do not see the crying sounds of children? The anger and hate running through our veins, heart, and mind glaring through our eyes. The thirst for more power, authority, and superiority. The smell of burning bodies, the realm of abused victims, hungry eyes, the homeless, starved and exploited minority groups, echos of crying in empty alleys, cry for help, for mercy, for humanity, the voice in our head clawing for to be understood, listened and not judged. How ignorant and inhumane have we become? We are so blinded by rage, self-interest, and beliefs that we have forgotten how to be just human beings. There is an abundance of toxicity in Desi culture. We disregard people’s feelings, belittle indirect insults, taunting, not acknowledging marital rape, gender inequalities referring to females’ cerebral abilities rather than their physical strength. Is it too much to ask? To be treated like a human being, not like a female, and not belittled. For our virginity or purity to be not the only things deciding our character, self-respect, self-dignity, to be treated with respect, and not called whore or a slut. To be given the same opportunity as any other gender. Men are not the only ones preventing or inhibiting women from being perceived as equal in the sense of cerebral abilities, but women themselves are the biggest bullies of themselves and others. This is very common in desi cultures, from a personal point of view. Although it might not be for everyone, it is for some whether you disagree or agree. I am that some. “Using reputation, and what other people might say” as an excuse, has led to a lot of haram things to take place. Like forced marriage, abusive marriage, abusive household, marital rape, feeling obligated to please the man sexually, feeling dirty, that pleasure is only for men and not women, sexual abuse, domestic abuse, and verbal abuse. People who defend these avoid confrontations and support this; they are just like the abuser. If someone makes you uncomfortable, then return the favor; we are making it too comfortable for others. Make them uncomfortable and encourage confrontation regarding these matters.

It’s been a while since I wrote anything or posted something of my own. I am hoping to start writing again, the way I used to but I am having trouble doing that recently or more like for a year now. Hopefully, I am able to overcome that and start writing again. I am thankful to the Lord for everything and hoping to restore my faith and be better. Taking this time to work on myself, my career, and build a stronger connection with my god. This year has not been a good one, and we all are going through things. Be good to others and yourself. We all make mistakes and it’s okay, but what is important is to learn from it, and not repeat.

She has a chaos in her mind. She is not thinking straight. She wishes to disappear, lonely and no one to depend on or to calm her down. That chaos has it’s own rhythm, and it’s her. Can she take it? She is being deteriorated, commotion in her thoughts and feelings, and madness in her eyes. She has a hard time staying hopeful, but she is good at keeping her invisible veil on. Her hatred is growing, rationality is out of her reach, & the line has blurred between who she is and what she is supposed to be. She used to start and never stop, but now she stares because it seems she doesn’t know her own turmoil.

She does not have much to say. Words don’t come, and if they do then there is no sanity to it. She is alone and she is aware of it. She is hated and she knows it. No one seems to pay attention to her, yet she pays attention to her surroundings. She is tired of that too, so she decided that she doesn’t want to be bothered by it. Her own existent feels like a burden.

~Chatty

Did you ever guess why I am titling my post in different languages? I guess not, well let me tell you why. The reason I do that because I want the person who will be reading this post to try to guess what’s the title by just reading it. Or maybe because it looks nice or I find the title pathetic due to its association with her emotions. She came out of the shower, heard her mother speaking to her niece. They were talking about money and how someone said something about how to spend money etc. They did not understand what the person was saying so she decided to explain to her mother because she understood the meaning. She was talking normal, her tone was normal. She was not trying to be rude or say something to hurt her feelings but the moment she opened her mouth to explain to her mother the meaning of it. The mother raised her voice and shouted at her, cursing and looking at her in a disgusting way. She flinched, did not understand why she was getting mad and cursing at her. In her mind, she was just trying to explain the meaning. Her breathing stopped for a few seconds, scared and terrified of her because this one is blunter to previous ones. She felt like crying but she held her emotions and masked it well. The mother turned away from her, so nonchalant as if her saying disgusting things about her daughter did not even stop her for a few minutes to realize the terrible things she said. No regret or guilt, just disgusted expressions. She had at least four dreams or more like nightmares where her own mother tries to kill her, scratch her face, or try to take her eyeballs out and pull her hair. Her mind constantly is in fear, suffocated, angered, and madness in her eyes and thoughts.

The fear is so strong that at some point she started having these terrible dreams. At night, she stares at her mother’s face and imagines her smiling at her in a creepy way and how much she hates her and wants her dead. She was just trying to explain the meaning. However, before she went to shower she was telling a story to her cousins in English about her little brother’s naughty behaviors when he was little. Nothing regarding the mother, but the mother got mad out of nowhere and started shouting at her saying something along the lines “how she spreading shit about her” “she is a donkey” “she does not have a brain or dignity” “she is stupid and does not know how to talk” and curses that I can not translate for her but they are terrible. She goes what are you talking about, I am just telling them a story and it’s not about you. She was very upset, her mood was off. She was embarrassed in front of her little cousins who had to hear her mother curses and say nasty stuff about her like a crazy person. She decided to take a shower hoping for her to calm down. Then, this whole explaining the meaning thing happened. She felt like crying while she was showering but she pushed it at the back of her head. Trying to be strong, once she shouted again after the shower. Tears dropped from her eyes when she was away from everyone. She felt like she was dying from inside like she could not breathing or get enough air. She wanted to disappear or yell at her and tell her that she is wrong and to stop accusing her. However, she knows it’s not going to work so she tries her best to stay quiet. She is tired of everything. Everything is, even more, harder to deal with and manage it. Life became more of a burden to her, its exhausting. I wish I could describe her story in more depth but certain things I can not translate so I tried as much as I can.

I know I know, she is always talking about her depressing life but what do you expect. How can she talk about good things when she barley experiences it. Well whatever that she barely experiences, she will talk about it today. Let’s see, she felt slightly content when she was discussing it with a person about how she is and the type of person she is. She realizes or more like thinks, maybe she is alright and everyone is messed up. Maybe certain people will never understand her, constantly call her names, or she is messed up. You never know. She wonders at what age do you find out if something is wrong with you or it’s just someone else. So many questions and confusion on an unknown journey. Pretty scary to be on a path without knowing the final destination but maybe it’s good to not know in case it’s just as bad as the journey you are experiencing to reach the final destination. Finding out that your final destination is even worse, it’s just even more depressing. It’s not easy. She wrote a bunch of stupid things. Ohh well, that’s what overthinking does to you. Ruins everything, present and future. The hardest part is controlling it.

I am in agony, afflicted by my emotions and constant struggles that I can not even feel the throbbing pain that continues to take its place in my existence. A torture path with so many thorns. I am tormented by my reality, a hidden reality that continues to be hidden. I live in two. One where I wish to be and one where I wish I could integrate it into the other. Every time I hear it, I inhale. I stop breathing for a few seconds because I am afraid I am going to hear the same thing again. I am afraid of entering it, because it has become a pattern. I feel suffocated, I can not breathe, and discomfort by my surrounding. I try to not let the wave drown me but it becomes harder as time passes by. My emotions, my reality, my thoughts, almost everything seems like a burden. It’s burdensome talking about it, burdensome to keep a hope that somebody would want to deal with it. I find myself ridiculous and stupid. Hope just seems exhausting, and an overbearing term for everything. I want to smack her, make her see how pathetic she looks, how she has let them take control over her life and soul, I hate the sound of her pathetic cries, weak, whimpering like a pathetic human being who has nothing more to do than whine about how this set of unit treated her bad. I hate her sound of cries, I wish she would smile and be how she used to be. How hard is it going to be for you to just smile and see you have something to take care of? I am sick of it. I am tired of praying and hoping that one day she will be how she used to be. My heart is aching from so much pain. It’s like it’s going to explode. Tears dropping from my eyes as I write this. How much I wish I don’t ever wake up. I wonder if anyone would care. I wonder if I don’t wake-up, would she be happy that I am finally gone? Probably, will be happy. She already hates my guts. A disease in this household that’s spreading consistently throughout. I wonder how far will it spread before everyone gives up or has it enough.