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So it begins, I share whatever goes into my head as it is the only relief I have. I have come to you to lay down all my woes, all my troubles, my despair. Such tragedy I must say within a sentence. Much drama within an introduction. I do not understand why you continue to read on. This is not some form of reverse psychology. On a serious note, why are you interested in the perverse life of an Arab girl, or do I say lady, woman? Female.
Welcome to the troubled life of a young Arab. What can I say, I'm all for the dramatic entrance. That's not true but I am rather sarcastic, you'll get to see more of that as the days go on, quite the genius when it comes to sarcastic comments and comebacks. I'll take credit for that, I think thats as far as it goes, not much to take credit for.
So where do I begin? I was born. Sarcasm comes out again. Anyway, I was born in the 90's not much to go on there, should be enough information. I grew up in a modest household with siblings all around, sometimes in need of my space and vice versa. We can get on each others nerves but that is what we love about each other, it just works. Two parents that tried to take care of me as much as they could until I was about five or six. They were a good five to six years of my childhood, then I was no longer a child. And so begin my woes, my sad sob story.
At the age of five we had a family member living in our house. He used to finish his studies which is why he lived with us, it was just more convenient. He was very self-absorbed and very disturbed, otherwise what happened to me could not be explained. So how do I put this to you. I was raped and molested by the beast my family trusted. That is when my childhood was stripped from me, I was forced to live with a secret at a young age and to never speak of it ever. Why? You may ask. Imagine the repercussions of it coming out. "Mum, Dad, the male being that is living in our house, the one you trust raped me." Yeah that wouldn't go down so well. My dad, would've killed him and he deserved to die, but I still wanted my dad in my life. Mum, would've hated herself and it wasn't her fault. So the martyr that I am, I keep it to myself and my two siblings who saved me from the monster.
The memory of the day I was saved lingers till today, well parts of it. I remember being yelled at by my brother to never go to him again, to stay away. Then I heard my brother yell at him saying that if a thought of me ever crossed his mind he would destroy him. So I didn't see much of him after, he left us after that for a while. He came back a few years later, I was older then. I repressed the memory until I was 13. I used to get the recurring nightmares of the night that it happened, which is why the memory lingers till today. Then my recurring nightmares changed. At 13 I found out that my nightmare was indeed true. I only found that out from my sister who told my brother I needed saving. She decided to bring it up to see if I remembered. I cried the entire night that night. I couldn't sleep because of how ruined I felt. At some point I did fall asleep only because of the massive headache and exhaustion I put myself through.
From 13 to 16 I would always think it was my fault and I was stupid for letting it happen to me. By the time I was 16 I went into full-fledged depression. I wouldn't sleep, I could barely eat and I was contemplating suicide. I felt disgusting, as if there was some disgusting large scaly, slimy animal slithering inside of me, like a snake. I would take scolding showers to attempt to wash out the feeling from within me. I would claw at my heart to attempt to pull it out. I didn't want to live with myself anymore. I remember the nights I would sob into my pillow getting ready for the next day where I had to pretend I didn't feel this way. It was slowly getting harder and harder to live this way until one day I just burst out crying to my sister. When that happened my dad saw and was worried. The last time he saw me cry that way was when I was a child. He sat with me and tried to understand what was wrong. I couldn't tell him. All I could say was that my life was not in my hands, which was the truth. I felt helpless in that moment. I couldn't tell him why though.
My depression gradually changed into anxiety and I was diagnosed with general anxiety disorder. This was post 16 though. I was 18 when I was diagnosed. I was supposed to go on a bunch of pills, didn't see that doctor again. Besides the point. I slowly came to terms with what happened to me. I understood that it wasn't ever my fault and that I shouldn't feel the way I felt all those years.
I still get my waves of depression which is why I am currently telling you all of this. I am currently going through and influx of emotions in which I cannot comprehend and thus I have resorted to you, my kind reader. I currently feel disgusting and violated and so have burdened you with my tragic story of how I was a troubled child.
With tears streaming down my face, I bid you farewell.
Till next time.
Welcome to the troubled life of a young Arab. What can I say, I'm all for the dramatic entrance. That's not true but I am rather sarcastic, you'll get to see more of that as the days go on, quite the genius when it comes to sarcastic comments and comebacks. I'll take credit for that, I think thats as far as it goes, not much to take credit for.
So where do I begin? I was born. Sarcasm comes out again. Anyway, I was born in the 90's not much to go on there, should be enough information. I grew up in a modest household with siblings all around, sometimes in need of my space and vice versa. We can get on each others nerves but that is what we love about each other, it just works. Two parents that tried to take care of me as much as they could until I was about five or six. They were a good five to six years of my childhood, then I was no longer a child. And so begin my woes, my sad sob story.
At the age of five we had a family member living in our house. He used to finish his studies which is why he lived with us, it was just more convenient. He was very self-absorbed and very disturbed, otherwise what happened to me could not be explained. So how do I put this to you. I was raped and molested by the beast my family trusted. That is when my childhood was stripped from me, I was forced to live with a secret at a young age and to never speak of it ever. Why? You may ask. Imagine the repercussions of it coming out. "Mum, Dad, the male being that is living in our house, the one you trust raped me." Yeah that wouldn't go down so well. My dad, would've killed him and he deserved to die, but I still wanted my dad in my life. Mum, would've hated herself and it wasn't her fault. So the martyr that I am, I keep it to myself and my two siblings who saved me from the monster.
The memory of the day I was saved lingers till today, well parts of it. I remember being yelled at by my brother to never go to him again, to stay away. Then I heard my brother yell at him saying that if a thought of me ever crossed his mind he would destroy him. So I didn't see much of him after, he left us after that for a while. He came back a few years later, I was older then. I repressed the memory until I was 13. I used to get the recurring nightmares of the night that it happened, which is why the memory lingers till today. Then my recurring nightmares changed. At 13 I found out that my nightmare was indeed true. I only found that out from my sister who told my brother I needed saving. She decided to bring it up to see if I remembered. I cried the entire night that night. I couldn't sleep because of how ruined I felt. At some point I did fall asleep only because of the massive headache and exhaustion I put myself through.
From 13 to 16 I would always think it was my fault and I was stupid for letting it happen to me. By the time I was 16 I went into full-fledged depression. I wouldn't sleep, I could barely eat and I was contemplating suicide. I felt disgusting, as if there was some disgusting large scaly, slimy animal slithering inside of me, like a snake. I would take scolding showers to attempt to wash out the feeling from within me. I would claw at my heart to attempt to pull it out. I didn't want to live with myself anymore. I remember the nights I would sob into my pillow getting ready for the next day where I had to pretend I didn't feel this way. It was slowly getting harder and harder to live this way until one day I just burst out crying to my sister. When that happened my dad saw and was worried. The last time he saw me cry that way was when I was a child. He sat with me and tried to understand what was wrong. I couldn't tell him. All I could say was that my life was not in my hands, which was the truth. I felt helpless in that moment. I couldn't tell him why though.
My depression gradually changed into anxiety and I was diagnosed with general anxiety disorder. This was post 16 though. I was 18 when I was diagnosed. I was supposed to go on a bunch of pills, didn't see that doctor again. Besides the point. I slowly came to terms with what happened to me. I understood that it wasn't ever my fault and that I shouldn't feel the way I felt all those years.
I still get my waves of depression which is why I am currently telling you all of this. I am currently going through and influx of emotions in which I cannot comprehend and thus I have resorted to you, my kind reader. I currently feel disgusting and violated and so have burdened you with my tragic story of how I was a troubled child.
With tears streaming down my face, I bid you farewell.
Till next time.
let the words and thoughts flow infinitely
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