I don’t know why, but the pattern always seems to be the same.
Both of them keep placing expectations on me, as if living a simple, peaceful life is never enough. It’s almost like they’re not allowed to slow down for a moment and just breathe.
The pressure often sounds like this: “You have to perform Hajj while you’re still young. The sooner, the better. If possible, go right now.” Sometimes it feels as though the message is, “Until you’ve gone on Hajj, you haven’t truly earned your place in the family.” Family gatherings, respect, recognition, it can all seem tied to whether you’ve checked that box.
Then there are the expectations. The children must excel. They must achieve something. In every opportunity, in every field, they are expected to stand out. Being part of the crowd isn’t enough; they have to be the ones on stage, the ones holding the trophy, the ones everyone talks about.
And honestly, those hopes aren’t necessarily bad. Deep down, they come from wanting the best for the children. The intentions may be good.
But the journey toward those expectations is exhausting.
There are days when you’ve worked as hard as you possibly can, prayed with all your heart, sacrificed comfort, sleep, and peace of mind, only to find yourself still standing in the same place. Still part of the middle class. Still struggling. Still wondering when things will finally get easier.
It can feel incredibly discouraging.
Because the truth is, people are different. Not everyone is born with the same talents, opportunities, or circumstances. Not everyone is destined to become extraordinary, famous, or spectacular.
And maybe that’s okay.
Maybe a meaningful life isn’t measured by impressive titles, remarkable achievements, or the ability to meet everyone else’s expectations. Maybe having enough sustenance, a roof over your head, people you love, and good health is already a blessing beyond measure.
Isn’t that enough?
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