Category: Bits & pieces of everything

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I started university today

You know it’s an overthinking kind of night when I’m listening tghayarti by el far3i. And not only because I think this is the most beautiful song ever made, but because I genuinely cannot listen to it without reminiscing.

I’m going through a lot of emotions, and they’re not necessarily bad ones, but they are a lot to fathom and absorb. I started caring again, and even though at times it makes me feel most alive, there are other times where I regret it. Caring for people only makes me vulnerable, and it’s not a color I like on me.

It’s funny how this world works, strange how different we are and how bizarre our lives might be, yet are all linked through eerie pretense of interdependency and social integrations.

I started my second BA today, and even though I could not attend any of my classes, it feels good to be back learning. Even though I would love nothing more than to exist in a university atmosphere and the excitement of still being a learner and observant of the later-on life, I know it is not possible.

Yet, I’m an optimist. I feel a certain ego of knowing so many things and being in so many places yet still learning the basics of social sciences and the methodologies of calculating demographies.

I’m not a study-type of person, I never studied as much as I should, and it’s not something I am proud of, but it’s also not something I was capable of doing. Even though I went through four years of university and 15 years of school, I never had an “overnight”. It’s not that my major didn’t require studying, because I know that most of my friends spent so many nights awake trying to study the hundreds of pages we were asked to memorize. But I never did.

I am not a study-type of person, but I am a learner. I love learning, I love people teaching me new stuff, and I would never skip an opportunity to learn about culture and history and the philosophical theories of being.

I may have a bad habit of wanting to know everything about everything, which is unfortunate as knowing everything leads to knowing little of every topic but never in-depth enough to discuss. Nevertheless, I still aspire to someday know everything about everything.

Even though my classes conflict with my working hours, I hope to attend a few classes. I attended the first 30 minutes of my demography class this morning, which was funny because our professor was a typical red-headed Lebanese University professor with tattooed eyebrows and a flattering red lipstick.

And even though one of the students had themselves unmuted and her baby was heard crying all the way to my supervisor’s office, and the professor freaked out because “why are you holding your baby in the middle of a class!” and a member of the student council introduced her to the gift of “mute all,” it felt like home.

What else?

Well, today, I woke up with morning anxiety, which was a first in three weeks. This morning, I realized that I hadn’t had morning anxiety in three weeks, which was the first time in I don’t know how many years.

What happened that even morning anxiety was gone, and why did it return today? I keep asking myself, and I might know the answer, but I don’t think I’ll tell you. I can tell you that a big reason behind my sudden tranquility is for sure due to the beautiful winter and due to the fact that Christmas is soon.

Also, I just started watching The Queen’s Gambit (thanks to bands for recommending!), and so far, I like it. I haven’t watched a good series since Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and it felt nice to escape reality for a few hours.

What else? I’ve been eating so much unhealthy, and I am very not proud of myself. I have also been drinking coffee a lot, which I know I will regret very soon. I was raised to stand against anything that is unhealthy and unsafe for my body, and the fact that I am eating so much chocolate and sweets every day makes me very wary.

Also, it’s Christmas soon.

I hope you’re doing well yourself.

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Loss

It’s scary how much we can love someone.

Never getting attached to anyone, always keeping a distance between ourselves and everyone around us in case they leave, in case they decide to disappear.

Then comes someone and sneakily breaks all the walls; we love their presence, their laugh, their talk, their silence. We remember them whenever we’re anxious, or whenever we’re sad because their memory is safe, it makes us happy.

It’s scary much loving them makes us feel alive, as if that’s it, that’s all we need from this horrid life, that’s all that is important amid hunger and injustice and destruction, loving them is all that is needed to stay alive.

It’s scary how much they can affect our days, our mood, and the rest of our week. An inane message, a word of kindness, or a smile – that one smile, that’s all we need to go back home at the end of the day and say ” ’twas a good day.”

Their talk, for once you don’t mind not talking, for once you want to hear their story without having to say yours. For once, you want them to talk for hours about everything and nothing in particular, and you listen so tentatively because even the smallest details matter. Because knowing what their favorite tree leaf matters to you, as long as it’s a thing that they said. It’s them talking to you; what can be more important than that?

And that smell, their holy smell. You close your eyes once you smell them nearby, their scented aroma precedes them, and you close your eyes because it’s too warm and it’s too sweet, and it’s too them.

But then what?

But then they leave, and it’s not a shock because the world is mortal and the prettiest flowers die, and everything must end. But it doesn’t make their loss easier. It doesn’t make the void feeling less piercing in a bleak abyss that makes its way through our chest and blackens the place where bliss once rested, because of them, the bliss and the blazes.

And then the feeling of the happy moments gets forgotten, and the aching nostalgia replaces those happy moments, and then comes the era of longing for a time where we were whole, where we were floating, where we were alive.

And we soon go back to closing our eyes every time their names are mentioned, every time we try to remember, every time we see a photo of them or affiliated to them, every time we smell a scent close to theirs. This time, we close our eyes not to preserve the moment, this time, we close our eyes to make it, the memory, go away, we close our eyes as if the loss we feel is before us, and if we close our eyes and don’t see it anymore, it might fade away.

And then one night, it’s 3:00 am, our bed is warm, our pillow is fluffy, and we still can’t sleep. And as we hold ourselves so tight in fear we might break, we wonder what would’ve happened if we never met them at all, because nothing-nothing-really seems worth the loss.

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Somebody else

I think you’ve realized by now that I love writing about music as much as I love listening to music, and as I’m listening right now to Somebody Else by The 1975 at 1:45 pm during a busy Monday, my hand started itching to tell you about it.

So I heard you found somebody else
And at first I thought it was a lie
I took all my things that make sounds
The rest I can do without

Somebody Else – The 1975

This is my second favorite song of all time, after tghayarti. No matter how much I listen to it, or whatever mood I am in, it always hits hard; I can always feel Matt Healy swaggering on stage while singing apathetically to this enchantment.

I don’t want your body
But I hate to think about you with somebody else

He sings this effortlessly; how can he sing this so effortlessly and still makes me feel so much? I didn’t think Matty could sing something more beautiful than Me, Settle Down, or Robbers, but then he released this and four years later I’m still in awe.

Also, am I the only one who thinks that the album title is the most beautiful title anyone can think of? “I Like It When You Sleep, for You Are So Beautiful yet So Unaware of It” (stylized in sentence case). Honestly, how gorgeous?

I think I’ve heard this song throughout so many times, but I think the one time that struck me the most, and that I felt it the most, was a December evening back in 2016.

I used to work at the Beirut book fair every year at my dad’s book stand after college. That day, there was so much wind that I really didn’t make much effort walking as the sea breeze was moving me on my own (the book fair is very close to the sea).

The sun was setting, and I remember looking to my right and seeing a beautiful skyline of the mountains, with a very grey sky. I took a photo of it (featured image), and I listened to Somebody Else.

It was a perfect moment, a perfect sunset; it was a perfect 10 days. I was already feeling so much during that time, and I met so many wonderful people at the book fair, who became a family to me. We would all meet for coffee, and I was invited over for dinner (mainly shawarma) at their book stands every day, and I was always given the leftover chocolate and flowers after book signings. It rained a lot during the 10 days, and we were often stuck inside the bookfair for hours, which made us feel like we are distant from our actual lives.

We spent hours talking about our lives outside the book fair. They would listen to me studying for my “Introduction to Political Science” exam that I didn’t exactly do well in. We would gossip about customers and visit each other during busy hours to tell each other the funny stories of the people who bought the weirdest books.

We were a group of 7, who spent almost ten hours every day with each other for around three weeks, so it kind of got addictive, and I would, of course, get attached and fall into depression after the book fair ends.

That time when I was walking to the bookfair, that sunset, the night before, one of my colleagues at the book fair told me that he likes me, and made me a customized bracelet. I didn’t like him, but I couldn’t tell him that I didn’t; I was too content with where I was, and I liked his attention, so I just let him be.

At that moment, I thought of him, listening to Somebody Else, and it was ironic because I had another person in mind that I liked, but I wouldn’t have told him. It was a very short crush, and I realized later that that was my worst crush ever.

I thought of my bad habits, always leading people even if I don’t like them, for my own pleasure and need of attention. It was my expertise to get close to someone and then leave when I’m bored because I didn’t really want them in the first place.

Fast forward a few months, I learned my lesson quite painfully. But that December night, that sunset, that cold breeze, and that mountain skyline, I was still enjoying the feeling of being loved and not reciprocating anything in return.

That moment, I fell deeply in love with Somebody Else, and I haven’t recovered yet.

I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful – yet so unaware of it.
I like it when you sleep, for I can go outside alone amongst the due and feel at last and one with you.
I like it when you sleep, for it is where the worries meet with all desires complex and small that materialize upon your wall.
I like it when you sleep, for smoking is great, and I do a lot more without you awake.
I like it when you sleep, for the things missed too and to know I’m alive longer than you.
I like it when you sleep, for the infinite sadness of London and losses and a fold-out mattress.
I like it when you sleep, for the reasons I can’t, so I jealously squirm and count moles on your arms.
I like it when you sleep, forgive me, my dear, for all the cocaine has imprisoned me here.
I like it when you sleep, for I’m guilty of work and match of the day and the girls that twerk
I like it when you sleep, for my return after weeks is an incomplete feeling when you are not dreaming.
I like it when you sleep, for, during the day, your breath lacks character.
I like it when you sleep, for I swear I’ll protect her from the wheedling, redolent, saccharine nectar.
I like it when you sleep, for there are cracks in my ceiling that I know like the back of my heart – and to learn of your body in half of that manner was something desired from the start.
I like it when you sleep, forbidden I sit in my chair for a bit.
I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful – yet so unaware of it.

(this is not song lyrics, just some words spit out of Matty’s brain)

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Mr Sandman

I have a hard time juggling between not overworking myself and not procrastinating for 24 hours straight. How can people find common ground? When they’re productive and do something useful because they actually want to, like paint and compose music?

Today was one of the laziest days ever, I almost napped 6 times during noon, and I spent a lot of time on my phone, and I really hate consuming so much screen time, so I’m not so proud of myself.

Is it just me who feels disgusted when I spend more than 4 hours of screen time? I literally feel so ashamed of myself, the same feeling I get when I overeat just because I can not because I’m hungry—the same feeling of shame and disgrace.

I try to convince myself that I also spent a lot of time today reading on my phone, but we all know it’s not an excuse. You could have started your application to Europe, nour, instead of spending an hour searching for furnished apartments rental in Amman.

Nonetheless, it was a good day. I’ve been getting so many sweet comments on this little messy blog this week, including two people who have been inspired to create a blog on their own, and it makes my heart very, very happy, so thank you, my lovelies, my heart sends you hugs and kisses 🙂

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream
Make her the cutest that I’ve ever seen
Give her two lips like roses and clover
And tell her that her lonely nights are over

Mr. Sandman – SYML

Also, did you know that this song exists? Because, wow. I am so absolutely in love with everything about the song, from the lyrics to his voice to the rhythm to the slow piano playing in the background. If you’re feeling a little more cheerful, you can listen to the original song by The Chordettes, but for me, I heart SYML cover.

Also, I don’t know if you noticed, but I just discovered that I can change colors. That’s cool.

What else?

Well, I also discovered that my big sister reads my blog too, and she was shocked when I told her that all the photos I use here (except the el far3i photo and the Audrey Hepburn ones, of course) are taken by me, so for clarification, if anyone else thought that I Google the photos, I do not.

Also, the lockdown has been lifted, starting tomorrow, which means that some of my mental instability will also return, which I find strange because I have noticed that during lockdowns, the voices in my head kind of take a break, and then they return once everything is back to normal.

I think it started tonight, and I don’t want that. I found myself overthinking an absurd text, the person behind it, and whether I’m anticipating something that does not exist, but I’m back to my usual “nour” habits; put more into something that is not even there, and believe it.

I think I will try this time to change my ways. My supervisor won’t work from the office tomorrow and is letting me decide whether I want to work from the office or home. I’m going to choose office tomorrow, because I have so many tasks I need to focus on behind a desk, and because this is not the choice I would have chosen had I not decide to change my ways.

One of the main reasons I am happy that the lockdown is over is because I can return to my coffeeshops, back to drinking coffee as I walk long roads only because it’s cold and I want to enjoy every bit of the frisky wind. For that, I have decided that I will give myself a reason to live every week, starting this week.

The reasons to live aren’t going to be major, like saving a cat or eliminating hunger; they will be minor and simple chores that personally keep me going throughout the week without feeling like drowning myself under the shower.

This week, after finishing work, I will be visiting one coffeeshop and getting my favorite coffee from theirs to go. The coffeeshops in mind:

  • Concierge
  • Backburner
  • Starbucks (because Christmas cups and I’m very mainstream)
  • B Hive
  • The Daily Roast, or a random espresso place
  • 3ammo Abou Mohammad’s coffee, if I had anything to do near FoodBlessed office.
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I’m only writing this because I’m listening to a new song

And I like writing when I’m listening to new nice songs.

Hi there,

I’ve missed writing here. The more I hear that people I know are reading my blog, the more I get happy-you can keep the feedback coming; I love those! And at the same, it gets harder for me to write because I think to myself, what if I’m not good enough for them? What if they knew who I might be writing about sometimes?

I wish I can be as apathetic and not care, but sadly I do. I do care about your opinion of me; even if I have developed a certain ego for writing, I still get happy if you tell me that you like my blog.

Anyway.

I love rain; I love the cold. It’s too beautiful, and it feeds my soul with so much peace and happiness I cannot describe it; I’m so relieved summer is over, my mental health absolutely could not fathom another day of humidity and sun.

I find thunder and lightning and darkness extremely soul-nourishing. I keep telling people that the only reason I might consider living in London is because of its weather, and people usually weirdly look at me. “If anything, people leave London for its awful weather,” my British friend keeps telling me.

But with all its messiness, I love everything about this weather, even the parts when I’m soaking wet under the rain, and my feet are freezing because my socks are all wet, and I have a red runny nose because of the sharp breeze, I still choose this over one droplet of sweat any day of the week.

So I’m sorry for all you summer-lovers, but I’ve had enough of my seasonal affective disorder (SAD); I almost died from the pain (I wish I did instead of living through the struggle); it’s okay if you felt a little fussy, let my heart heal.

Also, I realized this week that I had neglected a thing so dear to my heart; poetry. Poetry was an essential part of my life-reading and writing-and I cannot remember the reason why I haven’t been reading or writing for almost a year?

A dear friend reminded me of the beauty and the magic of good poetry, and I decided to return to my Sylvia Plath poetry book and discover the new poets and poems I was introduced to. (Thank you for reminding me; it’s reasons like this that I cherish you in my life)

Also (2), I was awakened today by these sweet messages, and it made me happy (like everything he usually does). I haven’t felt happy reading complimentary messages for years that I thought I don’t care anymore if somebody said anything, but lately, I’m retouched by so many neglected emotions. I am back to appreciating messages like these:

Thank you for the beautiful words, and even though you woke up hours after with an “I was quite intoxicated so more in tune with myself and my feelings” following message, I still value this.

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The story of a teacher caught sexually harassing his daughter during an online class

He just finished the online class he was teaching, feeling satisfied with what he has given to his students. It was a heavy session, he thought to himself, and his students seemed to be focused on the lesson, and it was tiring, yet still, it is much better to teach from home than from school, because at school, it would be much harder to see her.

He said his goodbyes to his students, threw a “see you later” smile, and gave them homework. Then, as he moved from the camera, feeling a certain lust, he knew so well where he could go to satisfy his lust. Ashamed of himself? Maybe, but his grown hunger for his daughter was stronger.

Little did he know that his desires for his daughter distracted him from turning off his camera and that the students were learning much more than he could have taught; they saw what it’s like to be tortured yet remain crippled.

This is not a story made out of fiction; this is a story that happened in Lebanon a few days ago. A teacher was caught sexually harassing his daughter on camera after forgetting to turn off his camera and after his students recorded everything and reported it.

He was arrested and is now away rotting seven stories underground- I hope. Imagine, imagine with me, that he did not forget to turn his camera off, and that no one saw what he does and did, and that he kept on harassing her for years to come.

He could have been my teacher, and I would see him every day and let him teach me whatever subject he teaches, and I would listen and study and ask him questions and wish he thinks I’m smart. I could be a student idolizing a teacher, and he could be at home kissing his daughter.

I’m sick to my guts. It could have been easily hidden, and it has been hidden for so long. Imagine the students were not brave enough to report him, were not mature enough to say anything; imagine the life of this little girl who is being exploited by the man who should protect her the most.

Imagine, try to imagine with me, how many girls, and boys, are suffering from the same indescribable cruelty, and in Lebanon only. Imagine that home is the most unsafe place to be in, yet they remain quiet. Imagine dying in pain every single day and still waking up in the morning.

Let us speak about sexual exploitation and abuse. Let us stand against the society that pushes us to stay quiet on sexual crimes, so we don’t scratch anyone’s “dignity.” Let us speak on their behalf and make sure they know that despite their pain, we can help.

We need to adapt more legislations and decrees that penalize sexual misconduct, whether at home, on the streets, at work, or online. Legislation criminalizing sexual harassment at home needs to be thorough and inclusive of all girls and boys living in Lebanon, including marginalized groups and LGBTI individuals.

Our courts need to adapt a PSEA policy that sides with survivors and protects them from abusers; even if/when the abusers are judges and lawyers themselves, the system needs to enforce prevention, protection, and penalization of legislators and society members in case of any breach.

Only when the system adopts women and girls’ rights to feel safe can we normalize ending SEA and gender-based violence within our communities and homes. Women and girls are the center of socio-economic growth in all societies; it is crucial to give them the safety needed to thrive and believe in equity and gender parity among all the sectors of their lives.

As a girl who was raised hearing that women’s image, reputation, and dignity can easily be demolished by a word or sexual innuendo or anything that has to do with sexual behavior and that a man is faultless and is raised to be a sinner, I believe that these critical injustices need to end now.

Raise your voice for women and girls to be seen as a vital part of our nations’ social development and not as sex objects. Raise your voice for thriving women and girls who can walk into any house, office, grocery shop, cafe, school, university, street, city, etc., and proudly say: “I feel safe here.”

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Things from my notes

I find things sometimes in my notes. This is one of the things:

Maybe if we stayed here for a little while

Nights upon us, and there is not one star in the hollow bleak sky

Yet you can’t seem to focus on anything but it, the sky, whether it shows signs of rain

Maybe if you looked at me the way you looked at the sky and pinpointed the constellations

Maybe if you looked me

And noticed

Maybe then I can say I am happy

Maybe if it weren’t you that made me laugh for two hours at nothing in particular

If it weren’t you who listened to the story of my life and smiled at the details

If it weren’t you who got me yogurt and told me it tastes like all the bad things in the world

Maybe then that I can I finally tell you that I’m happy

Maybe then that I can tell you you’re mine

But how can I when you’re not?

How can I talk about you to my friends and let them share you with me?

Is it not sharing you with the sky you so dearly, not enough?

How can I simply tell them;

“Here he is, the almighty, smiling at me and making me happy”

They might want you to smile at them the way you smile at me

And that would kill me.

(I wonder how accurate this might still be)

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I’ve been skipping therapy.

I know I shouldn’t. I know that therapy isn’t for sad days and it’s the road to treatment, but I’ve been preferring the delusions of normality than having to revisit melancholy and feel sad and lonely again. I’m doing okay, let me stay okay for a while.

I tried something today. I did exactly what I usually do, or did before last week; I woke up with the same mentality, dressed up with the same mentality, took a taxi to work, renewed my work ID, sat at the same desk I’ve been sitting on for the past 6 months. I drank the same coffee and spoke out in the PSEA training and did the usual tasks and saw and jokes with the usual people, and it felt different.

Because the thing is, they are the same events, but I have a different mentality. I don’t see them behind the darkness; I didn’t feel like I’ve been carrying blazing coals on my chest all day, I didn’t feel the tremendous relief of freedom as I left work. Today, it was a typical day with a different feeling, a feeling of tranquil bliss.

I don’t know the reason behind the sudden change, or maybe I do, and I don’t want to admit it, but I know there’s something different; I know I’m different. And I’ve been skipping therapy.

I love my therapist and therapy, but they remind me of awful-and very recent times; they remind me of my weakness and my lowest moments and things I wouldn’t have confessed had I was as mentally stable as I am right now. And I’ve been skipping.

I’m going back next Monday, I promise. I know better than to neglect my mental health. I also have the exercises my counselor gave me, so I also need to go back to those, but for now, I actually don’t feel like an abomination; for now, let me be.

I keep wondering if it’s because of the many rests I’ve been taking lately that I am what I am now, that nothing-and no one-changed except that I’ve been acting like a normal human being and slacking.

I wonder if this is what I am now, or if all of this is just a temporary bliss, and I’ll be back to weeping in no time. But for now, I’m not even anxious about tomorrow! I’m living in ignorance, with my demons sleeping aside, and I’m still awake.

I’ve been skipping therapy, for my own sake, for my own state of stability and ignorance. I need to not be, just for now, just for a little more.

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I’m changing

The past week, I think I was floating. I’m not sure I can describe exactly what happened or what I’m feeling, which is why I couldn’t write all week, but it seems so odd that I need to put it out here somewhere.

I’m not sure if it’s because I took a week off the week before for the first time in forever, and it let me breathe and recharge and give the chemicals in my brain a chance to rest, or if I’m finally taking that step forward and getting closer to healing.

Everything and everyone’s still in their place; they’re still the same; I’m just seeing them differently. I am noticing people more than before, I’m seeing a certain somebody in a different light, and even though I absolutely do not want this, it’s still a nice feeling.

I’m slowly returning to preferring being alone with people, which means the voices aren’t as loud anymore, and I can now go back again to spending time alone without being scared of suffocating. I’m going back to relying less on people for comfort and relying more on my safe alone time.

I’m trying so hard to stay calm and not get agitated as easily, and I’m failing badly so many times, but I’m also succeeding a lot, and it makes me happy. Little progress, one at a time. I’m reappreciating the smalls things. I’m feeling a nice little shade of white, clarity, purity.

I mean, it’s about time, right? I’ve been in therapy for six months, with the first three months in extensive therapy, and I had my first psychological counseling session last week at work; I’m writing this blog and sharing it, spending more time with family and friends, working out my issues, reorganizing my life. I am trying so hard. So. Hard.

I’ve even regained weight, and a lot are complimenting me for it, that now I look much prettier than before. But this might also have to do with the fact that it’s colder and that my summer seasonal depression is slowly fading; I’m always more glowing during winter.

*me to me* see? I don’t only post sadness. I can appreciate the nice times too. *smiles awkwardly to myself*

For now, pray with me that our week turns out to be wonderful. After today’s major anxieties, please, please please let it be a peaceful and happy week for all of us.

Also, I just discovered this little peaceful song. It’s a cover for a famous cultural Algerian song, so you can listen to both, if you want. 🙂

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This time last year

This time last year, I was working at a shelter for kids from abused and traumatic backgrounds. This time last year, I was living through so much uncertainty that I cried in front of my supervisor. This time last year, I was still the happiest I could ever be.

But we’ll get to that later.

The kids at the Home, my kids, they are the most wonderful creatures in the world. They are God’s gift to the world, to me. There are no words I can use to describe how much I love them; I wouldn’t love my own children as much as I love them.

I was visiting today, and I saw one of the girls (we’ll call her Grapes) upset and angry. She wasn’t breaking anything or hitting other girls, the way she used to do whenever she was upset; she just stood near the door.

I sat next to her on the floor and asked her to sit next to me. After a few attempts, she sat next to me, and that’s when she started crying. She cried her eyes out, desperately pleading, desperately trying to ease the pain away.

Grapes did nothing wrong but be a child in a world so cruel. She has the eyes of an angel and the smile of a goddess, yet she was used and abused by her father in the most vicious way possible. She was left neglected, unattended, uncared for, for so many years inside and outside the Home. And she did nothing wrong but exist.

I’m not sure how many years she’s been living at the Home, but Grapes lives in a shelter all alone. She does not have many visitors, and she can’t get out and live outside the Home because she’s 12, and life outside is so scary for her with real monsters and terrifying family.

How awful is that? My heart breaks for her, for all of my beautiful kids stuck at the Home because all they did wrong is be children.

I’m not sure I’m ready to open up about the Home, my time there, my people, and the children who shaped the person I am today. I have endless stories, beautiful and sad ones, but I guess it’s still too heavy for me to reminisce, to share.

I guess I’m still trying to recover from all of it, from the fact that I left my kids, who I promised myself never to leave, like everything and everybody else in their lives. I guess I’m still not ready to talk about the life and soul that I was forced to leave behind.

But I’m here for you, my little Grapes, I always am. I may not always be able to hug you while you cry like today, but I’m always thinking of you, and I love you because you’re so lovable, and you deserve to be loved. God, you are so loved. I wish our kids can realize how loved they are by so many people who worked for them, including myself.

You are so loved. You so are.