aizshamaf - Tumblr blog

[aizshamaf]

SELALU ADA

Sampai suatu malam, aku tak sengaja mendengarkan umiku memanjatkan doanya.

Ya Allah.. Berikanlah kebahagiaan ke dalam hati putri hamba. Biarkan senyumnya tetap ada meski sekitarnya tak mengharapkan senyum itu ada.

Jadikanlah ia putri yang kuat putri yang tangguh..Hamba tak kuasa melihatnya terpuruk

Berikanlah ia keyakinan di dalam hatinya bahwa ujian dariMu adalah caraMu memuliakannya.

Yakinkanlah hatinya bahwa mulianya seorang wanita tidak terletak dari seberapa cantik parasnya..seberapa putih kulitnya atau seberapa cerdas dirinya..

Tapi dari seberapa besar ketaatannya kepadamu Ya Allah

Jika ia tak sanggup seorang diri..

Pertemukanlah ia dengan orang-orang yang bisa membuatnya bangkit, tersenyum dan bermimpi kembali

Dan yakinkanlah ia bahwa selalu ada yang mengharapkannya..selalu ada yg menginginkannya meski itu hanya ada satu

Aku, ibunya..

Dan bahkan jika aku tlah tiada

Yakinkanlah ia bahwa Engkau akan tetap ada bersamanya

Aamiin yaa Rabbal 'Alamiin

Jazakillah khoir ya umi😭❤

[aizshamaf]

Iz, nitip yaa..

Jika kita mau menghitung dan berpikir atas banyaknya nikmat yang Allah titipkan kepada kita, bukankah kita seharusnya mengerti bahwa sejatinya titipan harus dikembalikan pada Yang Maha menitipkan

Allah subhanahuwa ta'ala telah menyebutkan keputusanNya yang adil diantara hamba-hambaNya bahwa Dia telah mengumpulkan kita dalam penciptaan, rezeki dan pengaturanNya di padang dunia dan pada akhirnya kita akan berkumpul kembali di padang mahsyar

Lalu akan terus berkumpul bersama siapakah kita nanti?

Karena menurutNya saat berpulang nanti kita tidak akan sendiri, kita akan memasuki rumah sejati bersama-sama

Bersama mereka yang beriman?

Bersama mereka yang ingkar?

Bersama mereka yang taqwa?

Bersama mereka yang maksiat? Atau bersama siapa?

Semoga kita bisa menjaga titipanNya dengan benar ya iz, ya iz ya?

[aizshamaf]

Jika seorang perempuan dijanjikan 2-3 tahun lagi akan dinikahi

Ketika kamu menunggu sesuatu yang tidak pasti, adakah makhluk yang bisa menjamin, dengan menunggunya akan membuat kamu berjodoh dengannya? Bukankah hanya Allah yang memegang kendali atas hatimu dan hatinya? Bagaimana jika Allah tak suka atas terjalinnya komitmen yang tidak pada tempatnya?

Abaikanlah. Sesuka apapun kamu dengan dirinya. Perasaanmu padanya saat itu, barangkali hanya karena kamu haus akan sebuah perhatian yang sedang ingin kamu dapatkan. Padahal lihatlah sekelilingmu, begitu banyak yang mencurahkan kasih sayang dan kepeduliannya padamu.

Daripada membuang waktu, energi dan perasaanmu pada sesuatu yang belum pasti. Lebih baik maksimalkan dirimu dalam ketaatan kepada Allah. Memohon dengan kelembutan hati agar kelak Allah mempertemukanmu dengan sosok lelaki yang sholeh berakhlak baik, yang paham bagaimana ia harus memuliakan dirimu sebagai seorang wanita. Yakinlah bahwa Allah telah merancang skenario terbaik untukmu❤

[aizshamaf]

Depression is funny like that

This week I sat in an auto zone parking lot and cried for ten minutes because I couldn’t change a head light, which sounds like a lead up to a terrible stand-up routine, right? One where the joke is always on me? Like, haha, I ate half a bag of pretzel m&ms at 11:30 in the morning IN BED or, I watched the pilot of Gossip Girl ten times in the past two weeks because I keep falling asleep half way through because being sad is a goddamn joke sometimes.

My headlight went out and my first thought was “seems right.” I couldn’t change it myself because I’d have to take off the whole bumper or something and I thought “of course” or “I wish I was dead.”  Being this kind of sad is funny that way, no inconvenience is a minor inconvenience, it’s all the end of the world or might as well be, my brain is dramatic like that.

Depression is a silent film, a monologue shot underwater, depression is sulking because I won’t talk to it anymore, by which I mean ABOUT it. There are some days I am so sad I don’t remember what it’s like not to be, like when you have a bad cold and you forget how to breathe through your nose and you’re so sure you’ll never breathe through your nose again and I’m so sure I’ll never feel joy again.

Except when you have a cold you can call in sick to work, and people tell you to get well soon, and there is a whole soup genre dedicated your well-being.  I can’t call in “sad” to work. I can’t go to the grocery store and go to the “sad aisle” which would have like already stale popcorn and tea which your best friend swears is good for you.

So sometimes all I can do is laugh, if I don’t, there might be nothing left. There’s a crack in my bathtub in the shape of the Platt river, and I know this because I sit on the floor of my shower so often it’s become a permanent imprint in my thigh.

I’m here because I’ve been sad since graduation, not this one the one before that, or maybe I have a bad cold, or maybe it’s both, but the cold makes the most sense for sympathy purposes.

If I get out, I have to be a person again. Have to put on clothes, put lotion on my legs, eat a bowl of cereal at least, take care of this terrible body that refuses to take care of me back.  I’m so tired of talking about my depression as someone else, a ghost that haunts me and I am afraid of the seance, afraid of what it might want from me.

My depression doesn’t ask for much but when it does it is something I cannot give and that’s the joke, it’s just me asking for something I cannot give.  I ask to come back to my body and it’s only me saying no.

When people ask me how I am they might as well be asking me where I’ve gone. I”m driving down a dirt road, no headlights, when it curves I will not know, just drive on into the field my own voice playing on the radio telling me “there is no place for me here.

[aizshamaf]

Explaining my depression to my mom a conversation.

Mom, my depression is a shapeshifter

One day it's as small as a firefly in the palm of a bear

The next it's the bear

On those days I play dead until the bear leaves me alone

I call the bad days "the Dark Days"

Mom says, "try lighting candles"

But when I see a candle, I see the flesh of a church

The flicker of a flame

Sparks of a memory younger than noon

I am standing beside her open casket

It is the moment I learn every person I ever come to know will someday die

Besides Mom, I'm not afraid of the dark, perhaps that's part of the problem

Mom says, "I thought the problem was that you can't get out of bed"

I can't, anxiety holds me a hostage inside of my house, inside of my head

Mom says, "Where did anxiety come from?"

Anxiety is the cousin visiting from out of town that depression felt obligated to invite to the party

Mom, I am the party, only I am a party I don't want to be at

Mom says, "Why don't you try going to actual parties, see your friends"

Sure I make plans, I make plans but I don't want to go

I make plans because I know I should want to go; I know sometimes I would have wanted to go

It's just not that fun having fun when you don't want to have fun, Mom

You see, Mom, each night Insomnia sweeps me up in his arms, dips me in the kitchen in the small glow of the stove-light

Insomnia has this romantic way of making the moon feel like perfect company

Mom says, "Try counting sheep"

But my mind can only count reasons to stay awake

So I go for walks, but my stuttering kneecaps clank like silver spoons held in strong arms with loose wrists

They ring in my ears like clumsy church bells, reminding me I am sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness that I cannot baptize myself in

Mom says, "Happy is a decision"

But my happy is as hollow as a pin pricked egg

My happy is a high fever that will break

Mom says I am so good at making something out of nothing and then flat out asks me if I am afraid of dying

No Mom I am afraid of living

Mom I am lonely

I think I learned that when Dad left how to turn the anger into lonely the lonely into busy

So when I say I've been super busy lately I mean I've been falling asleep watchingSportsCenter on the couch

To avoid confronting the empty side of my bed

But my depression always drags me back to my bed

Until my bones are the forgotten fossils of a skeleton sunken city

My mouth a boneyard of teeth broken from biting down on themselves

The hollow auditorium of my chest swoons with echoes of a heartbeat

But I am just a careless tourist here

I will never truly know everywhere I have been

Mom still doesn't understand

Mom, can't you see

That neither can I

[aizshamaf]

PERFECT

Is there something wrong with you?

A lose screw or two that ruin you’re ability to function? 

Why…are you always so tired.

You’re life is uninspired and small. All you do is sprawl on the couch with outstretch limbs like a sloth in slow motion.

Where is your devotion to succeed Shasa?

Did it drift out your window with a smoke from your weed? Do I have to force feed you discipline til you finally concede I cook and I clean and I don’t stop til the soles of my feet bleed

But I’m fine…

I’m perfect.

Be perfect Shasa. Be perfect like me.

Stop wearing those god-awful ripped pants and that lipstick like a whore with double D implants.

You only get one chance. Stop acting like a cat with 9 lives left. Stop committing youself to songs and stories and spoken slam bullshit in a world where degrees and PhDs impede the need for poetry. 

And stop chewing on your nails. 

No wonder you never attracted any males.

Why do you do that? Do you like the taste?

Are they sweet? 

You can’t eat sweets Shasa. You’re ruining your teeth like you’re ruining your life.

My teeth are perfect.

Clean and pristine. They glean like a golden halo above my perfectly conditioned head.

I don’t need sugar Shasa. I am above sugar.

Why are you down here Shasa? Why are down here when you need to be up here. Up here with the ones with promising career, who listen when information goes in one ear and doesn’t come out the other.

You’ll never be up here Shasa. You act as if the act of listening is a crime or you would have hear me, the six hundred and sixty sixth time I told you to stop chewing on your nails. stop chewing on your nails like a goddamn piece of trash. You can’t be trash Shasa. 

You have to be perfect. Be perfect like me.

I get up at 5 in the morning everyday. I start my day the same way, worried that I’ll collapse as my bones start to decay from cleaning up your scraps. Why is your room such a mess? The clothes go in the hamper Shasa. Not displayed on your bed like your lack of morals. Not littered on the floor collecting more dust than my withered expectations. You disregard my rules in a stubborn contempt in a substandard attempt at teenage rebellion. But you can’t be a rebel Shasa. You can’t be interesting enough. you need to obey and say yes and okay. you need to do it with a smile on your less than average face. You need to try harder Shasa. Make it wider Shasa. Why don”t you know how to smile?

You disappoint me Shasa. You never appreciate what I do for you. You never try to be a winner and you never eat your dinner. You never eat the dinner I consistently provide for you as I constantly remind you of the life I set aside for you. That meal doesnt pay for itself. I don’t care if it’s ideal. Stop telling me how you feel. You need to eat it. Eat it all. Eat it at a reasonable time with a glass of milk. You need milk Shasa. You need calcium like you need a catalyst for growth. You’ll never grow to be tall. Be tall like me, I drink my milk Shasa, drink your fucking milk.

Be tall. Be perfect. Be perfect like me.

You need to pay more attention Shasa. Stop the daydreaming Shasa. Stop staring at the ceiling as if you’re one redeeming quality lies hidden in the plaster. You need to organize your life, your life is a disaster just like your room. Just like your teeth. Just like your future which will soon come to an end if you don’t put down that pen. You need to stop writing Shasa. Your life is not a book.

Don’t give me that look Shasa. I’m just trying to help you. I’m just trying to love you. I’m just trying to love you. You have to let me love you so you can be perfect. Be perfect like me.

[aizshamaf]

WHY AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH?

Great, you woke up. Well;

1. Take a shower, you don’t want to smell.

2. Pick out an outfit that will fit in with the latest trends and won’t make you the laughing stock of the school more than you already are.

3. Put on some makeup so you actually look pretty and you can show your face in public.

You can’t even recognize yourself, and your face tingles with an itch you can’t relieve, otherwise you will have ruined the meticulous painting you applied to your hideous face.

4. Don’t forget to style your hair in elegant curls; you can’t let the people at school see how your hair frizzes up naturally like an electrocuted monkey.

5. Shove your fat feet into your toe-pinching, blood-blistering Converse shoes, because everyone at school is wearing them and you CAN’T be the odd one out.

As you gaze into your bathroom mirror, you see a stranger, that somehow stole your reflection, and replaced it with a completely different girl.

Every part of your outfit is uncomfortable. But even though you spent hours trying to look pretty, you’ll never be as good as those other girls at school.

You are really holding back a few tears, but you feel like you are holding back a tsunami of emotions that you can’t let anyone know that you feel because they may not respect you the same way–or did they ever?

Why am I not good enough?

Beauty is pain.

6. Get off the bus.

7. Find a group of people you can walk with to class, because heaven knows you can’t just walk alone.

But you don’t even like these people. They make dirty jokes and cuss a lot. They laugh and joke about you.

You know you shouldn’t hang out with them, but hey, they are popular, and you just want people to like you like they like them.

You are in the stocks, as people throw judging tomatoes and hating heads of lettuce at your insecure little head.

You cannot stand up for yourself, because you are alone, trapped, and defenseless. And you cannot stand up for yourself, because these popular kids are the royalty of the school, and what they say and do goes.

You take each comment, each judgement, each assumption, each opinion, each strange look, each remark, each criticism, each review, each report, each assessment, and with it your self-esteem plummets like a sinking ship–down, down, down, to the dark and dreary depths below.

You look at all of the other girls; your mind racing a mile a minute. I wish I had her hair. I wish I had her eyes. I wish I had her perfect teeth. I wish I was as skinny as her. I wish I had her social confidence. I wish that as many boys that like her liked me.

Why am I not good enough?

Well, life isn’t fair.

8. Get your work done.

The only part of your life that seems to be solvable is actual school work.

You take pride in your work, because it is possibly the only thing special about you.

You do it to see the radiant smiles on your teacher’s faces as they applaud your work. Their joyful praise is the gentle rain that brings a magnificent rainbow, the sunshine that brings forth fields of sweet daisies, and one of the only things that brings you happiness.

But, it is not popular to be smart. In fact, you are seen as a nerd, too smart, human calculator, brainiac, robot, geek, computer girl, know-it-all, teacher’s pet, suck up, and any other wonderful names you can think of.

Your peers’ jealousy is the pollution that prevents a rainbow, and the bulldozer that plows through the once golden fields of daisies, the intangible object that crushes your happiness like a bug.

A’s are getting you nothing but torment.

Why am I not good enough?

Just get over it.

9. It’s the end of the day, get ready for bed.

10. Undress, get your pajamas on. “Wow, did I get fatter today?”

11. Undo your hairdo. “Man, my hair looks like a mop.”

12. Wash off all of your makeup. “I can’t even look at myself.”

This is my life everyday. I can’t help it.

I’ve been told you can’t compare apples and oranges.

I’ve been told that I am distorted.

I’ve been told that I need to be grateful for who I am.

But going through your middle school years, you are in charge of your own journey to find yourself on a small jet, and sometimes you can’t control what happens to you–the turbulence will throw you off-course.

But, popular isn’t always a good thing.

You tell yourself, “I just want people to like me; I just want to be accepted.”

But skipping meals and marking up your wrist isn’t going to fix that.

You look at other girls and wish you could be like them, but other girls are looking at you and wishing they were you.

Society infers that girls have to have skinny waists, tan skin, long silky hair, perfectly straight and white teeth, big butts, and etc.

Society claims that girls have to wear lots of makeup to be pretty.

Society claims that girls have to wear skanky clothing and do inappropriate things to be happy as well as “cool.”

But society is wrong. You are loved. You are precious. You are beautiful. You are talented. You are capable. You are deserving of respect. You can eat that meal. You are 1 in 7 billion.

And most of all, you are good enough.

[aizshamaf]

Are you okay?

I'm usually pretty good at putting on a mask, I mean I do it all the time, if anyone ever suspects something's wrong, I shut them off with 'i'm fine'

but today I was really struggling and I couldn't find it within myself to force another smile. It's exhausting to keep up with this persona and I don't want to live in denial.

But knowing that wasn't an option I braced myself for another day. Feeling myself getting agitated, hoping. It'd go away. Everything was going wrong, I could feel myself about to burst. emostions rushing to the surface, preparing myself for the worst.

But then I saw someone staring, like they could see right through me. Sensing something was wrong they walked right to me. After a long pause they said, "are you okay?"

[aizshamaf]

Seiring sejalan

Tiap sosok yg Allah hadirkan di hidup kita, tidak pernah hadir tanpa arti. Ada arti yg Allah sisipkan atas kehadirannya, ini hanya ttg bagaimana kita pandai² menangkapnya.

Adalah mereka si teman 'terbaik' yg paling mudah kita menangkap arti di balik kehadirannya.

Mereka bukan yg berjalan paling dpan, pun bukan yg tertinggal di blkang. Tapi mereka adalah yg sedia beriringan berjalan, meski tau bisa lebih jauh berada di dpan. Mereka adalah yg sedia mengusahakan lebih keras agar mampu menyelaraskan langkah pd jln yg sama.

Meski bukan kisah Zubair dan Thalhah apalagi Rasul Muhammad dan Abu Bakar, tapi pertemanan ini sama² melangitkan asa tertinggi, berharap dpt berakhir di SyurgaNya kelak❤

Terikat bukan hnya krna hobi serupa ato sekedar nyaman bersama, tapi krna ada iman dan islam melekat disana, mengikat erat tiap prtemanan yg tidak biasa. Krna pada sesuatu yg tersentuh oleh Iman dan islam, tidak prnah mnjadi biasa² saja.

Ya, prtemanan ini luar biasa!

Mereka bergerak beriringan mewujudkan prtemanan yg Allah ridhai❤ AAMIIN

[aizshamaf]

Dalam dekapan ukhuwah, tentu saja ada jaminan manis untuk ikhtiar berat meneguhkan diri sebagai pencari sahabat untuk diberi itu.

Inilah penegasanNya dalam sebuah hadist qudsi yang diriwayatkan Imam Malik dan Imam Ahmad. Allah berfirman, "CintaKu mesti bagi orang² yg saling mencintai karena Aku. CintaKu mesti bagi orang² yg saling bersilaturahmi karena Aku. CintaKu mesti bagi orang² yg saling menasehati karena Aku. CintaKu mesti bagi orang² yg saling memberi karena Aku."

Dalam dekapan ukhuwah yg ada ialah cinta, cinta, dan cinta ❤

Dikutip dari buku "Dalam Dekapan Ukhuwah"

[aizshamaf]

JEDA ANTARA BADAI TANYA

Masih pagi ketika kutengok jendela

Dgn embun penuh tanda tanya

Apakah hari ini aku bisa kembali?

Ini mungkin mnjdi kesekian ratus kali aku bertanya

Lagi dan lagi

Langit tak menajwab

Purnama tak bersahabat

Jingga senja pun tak meilirik walau sesaat

Jika puisi ini ttg putus asa

Maka, inilah puisi penuh dgn tanda kecewa

Bukan, bukan pada semesta

Tapi pada si debu ini yg mudah sekali terjatuh berkali-kali

Kukira bumi yg mengimpitku

Padahal, rasa takut dan benci memenuhi nadiku

Akhirnya, semua jwaban yg kubutuhkan datang meski terlambat

Yg kutahu

Dibalik badai tanda tanya, selalu ada harap dan jawab yg kita pinta

Kembalilah...

#poem_indonesia #lovepoem #poetry

[aizshamaf]

Ada 8 lelah yang disukai Allah

1. Lelahnya orang yang mencari nafkah untuk keluarganya

(QS 62.10)

2. Lelahnya orang yang berjihad di jalan Allah

(QS 9.111)

3. Lelahnya orang yang berdakwah dan menyeru pada kebaikan

(QS 41.33)

4. Lelahnya orang yang belajar dan menuntut ilmu

(QS 3.79)

5. Lelahnya orang yang mengurus keluarga

(QS 66.6)

6. Lelahnya orang yang beribadah dan beramal shalih

(QS 3.79)

7. Lelahnya orang yang mengandung, melahirkan dan menyusui

(QS 31.14)

8. Lelahnya orang yang dalam kesusahan dan sakit

(QS 02.155)

[aizshamaf]

Mari sebelumnya kita sadari dan yakini sepenuh hati, bahwa kabar baiknya, pada segala sesuatu yg sulit akan selalu ada kemudahan yg membersamai.

Meski baru sepercik dari sekian banyak cerita  mengagumkan yg prnah 'kita' ukir dgn tinta emasnya, nyatanya itu sudah cukup memantik semangat untk terus memperbaiki diri menjadi prempuan sholihah di mata Allah.

Ternyata mereka adalah prempuan² yg meretas makna 'Allah Ghayatunna (Allah tujuan Kami)' dalam setiap aktivitas hidupnya. Hatinya hidup karena dekat dgn Allah dan padanya ada iman yg senantiasa membingkainya. Semangat terus yah 'kita' dan aku sayang kalian💖