Hi out there,

I created this blog maybe as a therapy for myself..and of course there are a few other aims. Perhaps in this huge virtual reality I can meet some soulmate, muslims, non-muslims...people who can advise and help. God knows...Blogs are quite fashionables in these days. I never really liekd them, though I owned some in the past. One was quite enthusiastic, part of my fundamentalist self: I wrote about the ebauty of Islam, the ultimate truth that lies in it - and of course about the eternal punishment for those who refuse it.
It was a nice blog. I learnt html through it and created wonderful layers, that girlish style...Made a lot of sister-friends. I wonder whats up with them now. Of course I was the moderator in some yahoo groups where we copypasted enormous lenghted articles about the beauty of the life of a muslimah (muslim woman), the wonders of hijab (covering), etc. I was a happy person. I spent nights working on my site...actually my English got better too, because I translated booklets and pahmplets. Of course it still shown im not a native speaker, but 90% of my knowledge comes from my Islamic activities (so-called dawah)...and those late night chats with muslim sisters via yahoo and msn messenger.
Yes, I was happy.
We talked about hijab, dreamed about marrying committed pious muslim brothers, exchanged recipes, advised each other about hostile non-muslim family-members. "Kafirs", as we said. Unebeleivers. Those who are destined to Hell.
Yes, I was happy.
I had all the answers in my head, I knew the answers for those Big Questions of Life and always felt a bit amusement when it came to philosophers, thinkers, etc, who spent an entire life thinking about the "where did we come from", "what is our goal in this life", "Why we are here" questions. I knew all and felt myself lucky and blessed for discovering the truth. My life was smooth and happy.
Yes, I was happy.
When sadness striked back, and it happened quite a lot of times, as I was born a malencholic person, my nature is like this, I just bowed to pray. I prayed hours, and read the Quran, and cried. Weeped. But I KNEW that my words are not going into vain, that Allah is out there and hears every whispers of mine.
Let me try to remember...fa 3asaa an tu7ibbo shayan fahuwwa sharrun lakum - says the Quran. Maybe you like something but in the truth, it is bad for you. These were my mantras. Allah knwos better. In my world, everything happened for a reason. Even in the darkest depression, I knew, that Allah sees me and takes care of me and the hardships are for my own good.
Fa'innama al3usra yusra. After hardship there is ease, says also the Quran.
So i might had been depressed, might cried, but never felt despair.

As you can see Im an ex-muslim. I guess. I must be one, because I dont beleive, that Mohammad was a prophet or Quran is actually from God. Still I have sometimes this fear in my heart when I write this down. I guess its part of being brainwashed. Ex-muslims must be killed, you know...Of course, there are distinctions: for a convert, like me, there is a chance to "think it over", and then he will be forgiven. For a born muslim, no mercy. For women, its even much lighter. Mohammad said, women are ..hmm..naaqisat 3aql wa deen..how to say it in English...Mohammad thought basically, that women have some defects, they are too emotionals, and not rationals. So if a woman (as me) leaves Islam, her punishment is only seclusion for a lifetimes. A life sentence in prison. So my neck is somehow safe. And also, they dont really act upon this capital punishment anymore, except maybe in Saudia or Iran...But still, its somehow like a mafia. Once a muslim, always a muslim - or die.
Funny, that many people who convert to Islam -which is very easy- don't know about this.
So of course I dont advertise. Actually most of my friends dont even know I was a muslim once. Once? Heck, for more than 10 years. And trust me, I was an ardent one. I read books in Arabic too. I was an an ehtusiastic muslim.
Most of my friends have no idea about this. They just think, sometimes I can be a weirdo. And they dont understand, why. Even those, who know, well, they just KNOW. They dont feel.

I remember, in these days I came across an article about Natasha Kampusch. Remember? The Austrian girl who was held captive by a freak in his basement for arounf 10 years. Now she said to the press, she feels like she is still a child - lost and helpless. People use her and somestimes she just wishes to go back to that awfu cellar, "where life was much easier". I could relate to her. Islam is a cellar, a comfy basement, especially for women. No, its not a hell for women. Everybody can go and buy "not without my daughter" and other horror stories, but in reality, most of muslim women have a normal, everday life, like any of the nonbeleivers.
Except...well, except that they are all like Natasha Kampusch.
Now I am out of my cellar, im in the real world, alone and scared. But at least I am out. Most of the time I still feel lucky and liberated. And sometimes...well, sometimes I have those bad moments when I just wish I were still down there, happy with all answers in life, always told what to do, etc.

This blog is about my journey. No hatred towards Islam. If you hate something, it becomes a part of you. I wanna be myself. I dont wanna hate and dont wanna mourn.
Just trying to understand myself...find myself..after 10 years being someone else.
Hope this will help a little.