Your Everyday Girl

It’s me again. I ebb and I flow with life and it has sorted out my priorities for me. My blog just ended up being last on the list.

I won’t apologize for my absence. Honestly, that felt strange to say out loud…digitally. I’m a bit of a people-pleaser. Instead, I want to say this to you, dear reader: your patience is a quality I truly admire, and I thank you for being here with me still. I also want to take a moment to acknowledge my efforts for doing the best I can in these last few months, considering the state of the world and the challenges of starting a new job amidst it.

Hold on for a moment with me, things are about to get a bit heavy.

As an Iranian, these last few months have been highly turbulent. I’ve been scrolling on my phone endlessly every day before and after work. Well, I may try to keep myself up to date during work breaks too. So I’ll be working on marketing material and then I think of how lucky I am to be at a regular job leading a regular life. My fellow Iranians don’t have that escape right now. They are stuck underneath bombs while dealing with constant oppression by the regime in power.

Clearly, I don’t live in Iran, so I do not experience the same hardships a country of 90 million people have been and are still going through, but I can feel. It breaks my heart, to see a nation with 2500+ years of history and culture go through the last five decades of pain and suffering.

I’ve been doing my part. I post, I share, I write to local government, I attend protests, I talk with friends, and I try to share as much insight and detail as I can with others around me so that they remain fully informed.

You may or may not have read one of my previous posts about Iran. I shared my experience of a time when my family and I visited around 20 years ago, but it really feels like I was there in another lifetime. The post is called, Iran, through my eyes. I haven’t been able to go back ever since.

I find myself constantly searching for pieces of myself, but those pieces are nowhere near me. If I could feel that breeze I did back in Dorood (a city in Lorestan, Iran not too far from Tehran) or run with my cousins to grab fresh sangak style bread baked early in the morning, or my grandmother’s embrace once again, maybe then I wouldn’t keep searching.

My dream to go back to Iran is not as important as the need for a free Iran—a secular democracy where the people decide their future. A free Iran has been the hope of the Iranian people for decades, and it’s not like they haven’t tried to claim it. Every time they stood up against this regime they were met with brutal violence. Tell me, how do people reclaim their basic human rights when the state does not believe their voice matters?

So, while the conflict in Iran has been constantly running through my mind, I have to try to somehow compartmentalize the entirety of it while I work a full-time office job. Adjusting to this lifestyle has been challenging, but I won’t lie, it’s been good for me. My last job—which was remote—gave me the flexibility to lead my life however I wanted, yet, my in-office job has given me something that was missing from my life: human connection. Working, collarborating, and enjoying everyday conversation with coworkers in person has made me feel less lonely. My last job had turned me into a master overthinker.

I’m asking you, as a reader and as a human, to never forget the positive difference you can make through connection. While Iranians are facing censorship and an internet shutdown, the importance of speaking up for them has never been greater. They experience loneliness, heartbreak, and fear every day. When they regain access to the internet, they are often overwhelmed with hope once again—your solidarity does this.

This is where I find myself, caught between work and my phone. Lately, it’s been hard to hold space for anything else. I don’t know how much longer this conflict and the regime will last, and that’s the most terrifying part. I don’t want to lose more lives. Many lives have been cut short—children, women, men—and I can’t stop thinking of what they could have become.

Until Iran is free and the people can live how they choose, I will continue to amplify the struggles of my Iranian brothers and sisters. It’s the one thing I can do to ensure their voices remain heard.

Human suffering of any kind is not okay. We need to remember that as humans we are all stronger together.

I’ll be back again soon.

Your everyday girl,

Sara

P.S If you have questions about Iran, I’m happy to have an open and respectful conversation about it. Some comments online have been so unkind whereas others have been very kind.