Back to Basics: Stay true to yourself

Back to Basics: Stay true to yourself

Gaza, I decided to go back to basics, not only in writing, but also in many aspects of my life. Since school days, I dreamt of being a journalist who gives the world compelling human stories and I pursued it immediately. I started this blog as a little cozy place where I can be me and write to myself and to a few others who would be interested in seeing how I unfold with time. I used writing as my therapy.

Then the world forces you to evolve and mature, if I may say. You lose your breath trying to catch up, sidetracked by people who want to mold you in whatever shape they see fit. I was pushed to obsess over viewership, I was told my writing wasn’t "professional enough", some said my style is too simple pushing me to become a little pretentious and some others wanted to just break me down saying they had my best interest in mind. Yeah right.

I caved in. I started writing for an American news agency. I started using complicated words found on a simple Google search of "Complex writing glossary". I started checking the views every two minutes. Everybody around me succeeded in influencing me, and I was eager to please. I started feeling fancy.

I got high on the hype of being published on prestigious websites. I started abandoning my aesthetic and slowly lost my voice to please others and fight less with editors.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t happy even though my dream came true. I was making money out of writing compelling human stories to have them manipulated by editor, but at least I was attending to everyone's image of who\how I should be.

Soon enough, after draining battles of discussing my writing rates and vicious fights with editors who could find no mistakes in my writing yet broke my style and voice down until it was irrelevant and what they published sounded like nothing I would have written.

I detached myself from writing in what felt like a painful slow progression, I decided not to write for money and I just lost the passion for it. What was once my remedy and joy ride turned out to be my misery and nightmare. I tried going back to writing after a while, but every time I did, my hands froze and my mind went into a complete shutdown mode. After I failed my talent, it decided to fail me. "Fair enough", I thought to myself.

My last blog post was nearly two years ago, yet people still emailed me and told me –Both in person and online- that they read my blog. I felt constantly embarrassed and flabbergasted, why would people still be interested?

I started reminiscing on the old days when I only wanted to write to fulfill my passion and perhaps inspire one person at least. I remembered how writing was a joyful experience of artistic release and a breath of fresh air. The days when viewership didn’t matter and all I cared about was writing and nothing else. It brought a smile to my face and reignited a spark inside me.

The last three years have been rough. Too many changes, drastic ups and downs and I lost myself in the process of what I thought was "The natural progression". I only started recently to slowly gain my old self back and it feels good. I closed a chapter and started a fresh one. Here I am, back to writing to myself and to whoever is willing to read, even if it was only one person in any part of the world, I am writing for you and me.

I am back to offer the same narrative of rawness and realness I once was known for, and my dorky  humor. I am back to share what is happening on ground but also to reflect a positive tone. I am back to my beginning days when I wrote for the sake of writing not caring how personal it gets or how crazy I sound. I am back because nobody has the right to own my voice or shut me up or control me. I am back because many people miss the human and relatable feel in my writings. I am back to prove that nothing is worth giving up on your talent for. I am back to tell you to keep believing, keep being you and always listen to your gut and I promise you it will pay off when you least expect it.

Consider this as a wakeup call to go against submitting to the norm, or what people expect from you or want you to be. Think of it as a plea for you not to give up, not from a preacher but from a person who went through it and knows how it feels. Take it as invitation for me and you to embark on a new journey where we stay true to ourselves and to everyone around us.

The happiness you waste your life looking for exists within, which makes external affirmation useless so never sacrifice who you are for someone else. Every person in your life might leave you for any reason, all you have is yourself so own it and work on it. Be your own person.

Together in good and bad,

Omar Ghraieb 

Mom: How I lost my universe

Homage to Mom: How I lost my universe

Gaza, January, “What took me so long?”, a question that tantalized me since the early morning because today marks the 18th anniversary of my mom’s death, or passing, as I like to call it. I never dared to blog about it before because its too emotional and too personal. Who knows what I will end up sharing. But since I am becoming more real and shedding my ego, I guess it’s time I open up about that life-changing state.

My mom was a typical mother in a sense of being a hard working woman who gave birth to five children and doing her best to raise them all well. But she was no typical woman. She was a Palestinian who was born in Palestine but had to become a refugee with her family due to occupation and Nakba. They ended up swinging between the Arab countries, especially Lebanon and Syria.

She married a Palestinian, a revolutionary, which left her playing the role of a single mom of five in a foreign country (Cyprus) as her husband travels and works. It wasn’t easy but she made us feel like she was invincible and could handle anything. She was a human of feelings, her heart embraced everyone and she treated everyone with love, care and tenderness.

We moved to Gaza in the late 1990s, it was hard on us but for her she was used to this shredded life. She was worried about us but also was happy that we will return to a part of occupied Palestine and reunite with my dad. Four months later, she passed away, after securely getting us to “Safety”.

I was 9, but I remember that day like it was yesterday. I swear, the last few days before that day felt so weird. Her conversations with me were different, the look in her eyes was different and she had this air of worrisome surrounding her all the time. I woke up to head to school with my sister like any other day. But the weather was so gloomy, dark and rainy. The sky was trying to tell me something but I didn’t get it right away.

My older brother came to “confiscate” us from school. Yes, he literally confiscated us, we were put in a car and told we were heading home in the middle of a school day. I kept looking at the sky, it was trying to protect me but couldn’t prepare me for what I will see. The rain never stopped, if anything, the weather got worse.

My body was alerted, my instincts kept telling me that something was wrong but not in a million years did I imagine that loss. My mom was my everything. My compass, my universe and the center of everything.

There were so many people everywhere, especially in our house. I saw my mom laying there without moving. I didn’t need anyone to tell me anything. I felt a chill take over my spine and heart. I felt like the house was empty without her, even though the house was packed with people all around. I felt alone. And I have been feeling alone since then even when I am surrounded with family and friends.

Losing a parent, a mom especially, changes your whole life. It’s like walking through a dessert without a compass, or going on a pilgrimage without a destination in mind, or going through a maze in complete blindness. You lose the sense of security. You go through life always feeling like there is something missing. A permanent void opens in your heart and you just learn to live with it.

I don’t look like my mom but my soul looks like hers. I had the privilege, blessing and honor of living with her for only 9 years but she gave me love and she taught me so much that it could last for a lifetime. I feel like I was an extension of her heart and soul. She is a part of me and I am a part of her. She left earth 18 years ago, but she never left me or my heart.

They say time heals and helps you forgot. Its very true and accurate. But not when it comes to the loss of your mom. I find myself missing her more and more every year, I find myself also needing her more and more. I try to always remind myself of her face, her scent, her smile, her voice and the look of love she used to look at me with. I don’t always remember everything, it used to make me angry and make me feel like I am losing her all over again. But now I realized, I might forget some things and remember others but I will never forget how she made me feel.

I believe that I am a feminist because of her. I am also proud to be the fruit of interracial love. Everything helps make the person you become. But what I am most proud of is the authenticity she passed onto me and setting an example of how to keep your soul and heart connected in influential harmony and how to keep them in sync. She touched everyone with her love. She wasn’t my compass only, she was the compass to many of her friends and family as well.

Some people leave us but they leave so much presence behind that they are more present than people who are still alive. I hope I am making sense.

Mama, my love to you is something that resembles you. It’s a never ending spring. May you rest in peace and never leave my heart. May you keep inspiring me and may your words keep ringing in my mind. May you be proud of me a fraction of how much I am proud of being your son. If I had the choice of being your son for 9 years or being somebody else’s son for a lifetime, I will choose you because love and presence transcend beyond time. You remain my compass and my pillar of security. I always yearn for you.

I kindly ask you to please honor and love your mom, don’t take her for granted and don’t think that there is all the time in the world. You never know what might happen so show your mom all the love, respect and care she deserves. Treat her like your queen, don’t wait any occasion to make her feel special. And please, hug her and kiss her from me.



From Gaza with yearning and nostalgia,

Omar Ghraieb.