One random day, you will have convinced yourself that you are miniscule, unimportant, too much and fake. You will try to shrink yourself into inexistence, and when that doesn’t work, you will take matters into your own hands and delete proof of your existence…slowly. But you will be so slow to do that that you have your life left. You have your life and a small part of you that remembers. That small part tethers you to the before, the unknowing you, and that small part will make you miserable. But the larger part of you will want to move on. So, you do. But the small part will never go away. It remains small, but it remains loud. You will start again, and you will love yourself this time, but you will remember before, and you will be miserable.
Classes have started!!! Well, for one course— JIL.
I just had my first class on Monday, and I was totally unprepared. I also couldn't hear my lecturer clearly even though I was on the second row. Andddd I was totally unprepared. I hadn't read beforehand. I wanted to get a feel of his class.
I would've read yesterday, but I went to get my phone fixed and my laptop is temporarily unavailable. So, I only have tonight or tomorrow morning. I hope I find the will to do it tonight. I have it again tomorrow. 11.
Wish me success!!!
Don't be like me, and go get that degree!!!
Motivation: If you don't walk now, you'll have to run later
There's this horrible smell in my hostel toilet that I can't rid of. It's from the bathroom. I wash it everyday and spray air freshener, but it persists. Please, I beg you, help me. I'm losing it 🙏🏽
Classes have started!!! Well, for one course— JIL.
I just had my first class on Monday, and I was totally unprepared. I also couldn't hear my lecturer clearly even though I was on the second row. Andddd I was totally unprepared. I hadn't read beforehand. I wanted to get a feel of his class.
I would've read yesterday, but I went to get my phone fixed and my laptop is temporarily unavailable. So, I only have tonight or tomorrow morning. I hope I find the will to do it tonight. I have it again tomorrow. 11.
Wish me success!!!
Don't be like me, and go get that degree!!!
Motivation: If you don't walk now, you'll have to run later
There's this horrible smell in my hostel toilet that I can't rid of. It's from the bathroom. I wash it everyday and spray air freshener, but it persists. Please, I beg you, help me. I'm losing it 🙏🏽
My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.
But life had other plans.
War has returned to our home. Again.
And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.
There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.
I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.
Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.
This is my life.
This is my daughter’s life.
And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness.
Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.
Why I’m Reaching Out
Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.
That’s why I keep going.
I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.
How You Can Help:
🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity
🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources
🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war
💛 If you can, please support our journey here:
My name is Saja. I am a wife, a mother to a precious 8-month-old girl, and I am writing this in a moment that I wish I didn’t have to live t
If you can’t give, please consider sharing.
Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.
From My Heart to Yours
Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war.
But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.
I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.
Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you.
Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring.
We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.
My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.
But life had other plans.
War has returned to our home. Again.
And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.
There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.
I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.
Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.
This is my life.
This is my daughter’s life.
And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness.
Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.
Why I’m Reaching Out
Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.
That’s why I keep going.
I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.
How You Can Help:
🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity
🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources
🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war
💛 If you can, please support our journey here:
My name is Saja. I am a wife, a mother to a precious 8-month-old girl, and I am writing this in a moment that I wish I didn’t have to live t
If you can’t give, please consider sharing.
Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.
From My Heart to Yours
Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war.
But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.
I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.
Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you.
Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring.
We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.
turnnoffyourmind
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