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How I wasted my 20’s

| AllWomenUnite

I sat before my birthday cake, ready to blow out the candles. I couldn’t believe I was 30. I had been contemplating all the decisions I have made in my life up until this moment. The lit number of candles were burning my soul. Taunting me. The same questions kept popping up in my head: have I wasted my 20s? “Is it possible that I could have made better career decisions?”

My daughter’s clapping her hands felt like a clock ticking. 

Yes, I graduated H.S., went to college, and got a degree. I chose an easier major and something other than what I wanted to do. I have always preferred the easier path. Now, at 30, I regret not taking the risk.  

What I wanted was to become part of the fashion industry. I chose a major in Psychology instead. And it wasn’t even criminal Psychology to keep me amused. God, I hated every minute of it especially the research papers. 

On the other hand, my friends picked the career they desired and succeeded. They all “made it” as we call it in simple millennial term. They were all so involved and passionate about their future. They were going to companies’ events, making connections….and money. While I waited for the next episode of Revenge to drop on Hulu after I finished an 8-hr. shift at a psych ward not as a psychiatrist but as a case worker. It was draining me. But of course, I couldn’t tell my friends this. It was a job and bills needed to be paid.

After moving to another state, I wanted to try something different. I wanted to use my degree to change someone’s life positively. I worked as a special needs PreK teacher and then as an RBT. Even though it was challenging It was rewarding to watch children learn and thrive. After the pandemic hit, I volunteered to assist in a domestic violence course online. As I blew the candles It dawned on me that I wasn’t actually wasting my 20s, I was gaining experience. I am exactly where I am supposed to be in life. I have a loving family, a job, and a roof over my head that many unfortunately don’t. I decided to use the sewing skills I had to make my toddlers ethnic clothing. I don’t know if I would be making a career out of a hobby yet. But I am willing to try.

Psychology tells us that we can change our lives by changing our mindsets.

Falasteen

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Agar deewareen baatien karsakti na
Toh woh sunati tumhai Falasteen ki dastan

Wo ghar jo Dada dadi nai itni mehnaat sai banaya sabko salamat rakhne ke liye, Wo ajj kaise sabki qabar bangaya

Agar zeetoon ke darakht baat karsakte
Toh woh bolte tumhai Jo haaton ne usai ugaya, Un hatoon ne apne kitne bachone ke janaze uthai

Agar Zameen baat karsakti toh woh dikathi tumhai
jis miti pe falasteen ke bachon ne phele kadam rakhe, Ajj un bachoon ke paas kyun peer nahi ke woh unki zameen pe khel sakhe

Agar samundar baat karsakte toh woh kehte
Toofan mein pani ke lehar badal sakti hai Bure waqt mein Falasteenion ka imaan nahi

Agar Asmaan bol sakta
Woh cheekhen sunata tumhe un saheedon ke pyaron ki, jo falak tak ponch gai afsoos kitne sheikh ke kaan tak nahi

Mayus na ho. Yeh woh qoum hai jo har azmaeesh pe kethi hai
حسبنا الله ونعم الوكيل

Insaaf zaroor hoga. Akhari Faisley ke din pe Har Patta bolega Falasteen ke liye aur sab soonge.
– Mubina C



The American dream is a Facade. It’s a food stamp cart with a gucci BELT WRAPPED around it. – Godiva Goddess

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By- Afreen C

Picture this: my family and I waltzed into America in the late 90s — oh yes, the golden era! Back when talking to each other was our main source of entertainment (sorry Wi-Fi, we didn’t know you then), and we saved all that therapist money for nachos instead. My dad supposedly arrived with just $20 in his pocket… Okay, let’s not write a fairy tale here, not all immigrants show up with just lint in their pockets. We came with a decent amount of cash and a sparkling hope called the AMERICAN DREAM.

We left our palatial three-story mansion back in India for a one-bedroom shoebox in Queens, NY. My dad had a fashionable clothing store in India before becoming a store employee. Me? I graduated from kindergarten in a Catholic private school (I was the most loved student!) to a public school in the big city — a transition tougher than trying to do algebra with a spoon. Friends were as rare as unicorns, and bullying came at me like it was one-on-one training time. The plan was to give my sibling and me a better life, but the first few years had me wishing for a magic wand. Dad and my older brother were juggling the finances for seven people on minimum wage. And back in the early 2000s, that meant $8 an hour. Then came 9/11 and the Iraq war, and suddenly we were living the ‘fun’ life of being Muslim in Amreeka. Financial stability was a few years away — by that, I mean finally being able to rent a nice place and buy groceries without breaking into a sob.

Spoiler alert: our neighbors did not greet us with any fancy welcome baskets. That must be for the ballers.

What’s more challenging than being lower or middle class in America? Being lower/middle class alongside a delightful chronic illness. In 2008, I received the ‘exciting’ news that I had type 1 diabetes. Sure, Medicaid helped with the supplies, but when the insulin pump costs $5000, that’s when the real fun begins! Once married and moved to Texas, I crossed into the 50/50 zone — my health insurance covering half of my expenses, while I prayed my wallet didn’t spontaneously combust. In just 2022, I forked over $8,200 for my insulin and pump accessories! This stark disparity in healthcare costs is a glaring injustice.

Before you type ‘hey, be grateful you’re in a first-world country,’ just know — I am! I totally get that others don’t share my privileges. But come on, we’ve thrown away over $8 trillion on the post-9/11 war! Just in 2023, $14.3 billion went to Israel, and $46.6 billion to Ukraine. Meanwhile, the Supreme Court blocked the student loan relief, while teachers are overwhelmed with work and face no raises in sight. Millennials with a sizzling $100k salary still can’t afford a place to crash, while everything else becomes priceless (and still, not in a good way). Since 2020, approximately 2 million people have moved from the United States due to rising living costs and political instability. Cancelling my American Dream plans — now that’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming, time for some serious questioning on how political follies shape our daily lives.

Your Soulmate Is Not Someone Else’s Husband. Part 1

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“Zainab, can you pass the sauce, please,” Sana asked as she reached out her hand to grab the bottle at the end of the table. I couldn’t believe how calm Sana was. Did she not realize she was breaking up a marriage? How could a woman sit relaxed and eat without a care knowing she is tearing apart a family? This was not how mom raised us to be.

Zayn our friend from H.S gave me a side eye with his head down in embarrassment fidgeting his fingers.I didn’t know if he was embarrassed by being caught red-handed or cheating on his wife.

My dad was so focused on the news he had no clue about what was happening around him. I didn’t plan on telling him either. It was only a few months since mom passed away and telling him about Sana and Zayn would cause him more pain.

“I should leave Noor must be waiting for my call.” Zayn said as he got up to wash his hands.

“YES! Right now your WIFE must be waiting.” I demanded. I had never felt this type of anger before. Sana ignored me as she shoved a whole meatball down her throat.

Boy if you don’t LEAVE

Was she going to act like nothing happened in the kitchen before dinner? How could my baby sister become so shameless?

Zayn left in a hurry closing the door behind him. Saying a quick good bye to my dad.

I grabbed Sana by the arm and dragged her up to my bedroom. Dropping my plate of food in the dining area.

“You are hurting me Zainab!”

I faced Sana towards me “You are doing the same to others but differently. Why were you kissing Zayn? Stop playing stupid I know what I saw.

Sana rolled her eyes. “I like him since H.S. I love him and he is my soul mate. Just because he is married doesn’t mean he loves his wife.”

“Someone else’s husband cannot be your soulmate, Sana. How could you be so dumb to believe that? Zayn ignored you throughout H.S. and now that he is bored with his wife you are suddenly his soulmate. It’s absurd!”

“He told me he will leave her. Their marriage has become toxic.”

Sana’s words felt like thorns pricked in my ear.

Did she fall on her head and lose all sense. How gullible could my sister be.

Men have been giving the same excuses yet we never learn.

“Sana, Noor is pregnant. Please tell me You don’t believe that he loves you. I caught you two red-handed and Zayn didn’t even take a minute to run out that door. He didn’t even turn around to say bye to you. He is using you. And what you both are doing to Noor is wrong.”

“Noor is pregnant?” Sana seated down on the bed as tears rolled down her eyes.

“Yes, 3 months. She and Zayn have been trying for 2 years now. Noor is at her mom’s place because she is sick and needs someone to care for her while Zayn is at work. Zayn’s mom told Nani a week ago. How long has this been going on between you two?”

“A few weeks. He told me Noor is staying over at her mom’s place for her cousin’s wedding.He lied to me this whole time.He told me they will divorce soon. I am going to call Noor and tell her everything.”

I snatched the phone out of her hand.