I just lost my mother 7 days ago. She passed away during her sleep. Everyone goes through this ordeal, right? No big deal. Let me tell you why it is very complicated for me. My mother was not by far the best person in the world. My brother had molested me for several years starting from when I was just 9 years old. He told me that “he was trying to make me free with him and siblings from other countries undress and touch their sisters all the time. And, I was overreacting.” All those years I blamed myself thinking that I was overreacting to things. I still remember how disgusted I felt when he touched my breasts and my vagina. My mother, she knew all about it. She threatened me that if I tell someone, the family would be destroyed and it would be the end of the world. So, it went on for the next 8 years. I had tried suicide so many times. Last year when I had told my sister and the rest of the family, my mom denied everything. And, not to mention, supporting the culprit. Both of my parents did. Their logic was “IT’S A MALE THING AND THERE WAS NO RAPE” I felt the pain of losing them both that time. I got to know that grief causes physical pain. Now that my mother has literally gone, I don’t know how to feel anymore. There’s a crushing pain and underneath it lies an ocean full of hatred. I feel numb. Am I being a bad daughter for speaking against my criminals? They outcasted me emotionally because I had dared to accuse their son. My life has become a nightmare I cannot wake up from. And, despite everything I loved my mother; underneath the ocean full of hatred. I tried my best to make her happy but, in the end, I failed. I failed because I stood up against the molestation. We read about child molestation all the time. However, very few of us know how it kills a part of you; the best part. I am so damaged that I don’t know I can ever be happy again. I have traveled through madness to find me. And, I don’t know if I can lose myself again for the death of someone to whom my life did not matter. Sorry ma, I can’t forgive you; not this time.
Boundaries have always seemed absurd to me. Why do we focus so much of our energy on dividing and making things small? The boundary of races; the boundary of religion; the boundary of preferences. I don’t know why it makes sense to other people. It never to me. Life is a beautiful piece of art: Fluid but also somewhat structured.
Have you ever stood in front of the mirror wondering if you look better than other girls or not? I bet you have. In fact, most of us have. There’s no shame in it. It is worse in teen years. We spend most of our time wondering if that certain girl from class or work look better than us. Speaking of which, I have noticed a strange behavioral pattern in South Asian people in YouTube. Most of them really care about what the rest of the world thinks of them. I know their culture is the shame culture, but this is not it.
Be that as it may, I used to care about my appearance so much that it would take me an hour to get ready before going out to buy some onions. People would keep staring and stuff. I won’t lie by saying that I didn’t enjoy it for a while. Then a phone company took my photo as a part of their advertisement. There were giant billboards all over the city with my face on. People gave hundred kinds of reactions. But I? I didn’t feel any different. I didn’t get that feeling of achievement and I realized how I was wasting my energies on all the wrong things. I was like, “Ok people it has been established that I am not bad looking. I’m not wasting any more of my time in this silly race.”
I am a person with thousands of possibilities ahead
A few days later, I was watching a travel channel and I realized how much I didn’t know nor seen. From there, my thirst for knowledge began. I read everything I could get my hands on. I learned Morse code just for the sake of it. After finishing something, I get this feeling which I cannot quite express. It is like a breath of fresh air. It is quite liberating.
The more I faced obstacles as a girl, the more I studied. The more I was seen as a silly person by my male friends, the more I worked hard without being a showoff about it. The funny thing is, those male friends are not as close anymore as they used to be. They preferred being around silly girls which made them feel intelligent. It is silly, I know. But it also told me that I should change the crowd.
The curiosity of knowledge can be very addictive. Now when I talk about moving out of the city or even country alone, some people tell me, “It’s a big scary world for one girl.” And, I smile at them saying, “Girl? I left that contest a long ago. I am a person with thousands of possibilities ahead.”
I am the youngest in the family. There’s a decade of an age gap between my siblings and I. My brother and sister born two years apart. Basically they are friends by birth. I had always been trying to fit between them, but every time I fell flat on my face. Hallelujah, birth of self-esteem issues. And, I am from a family where no one bothers unless you are physically ill.
Like my other two siblings, my parents got me admitted into the most posh school in the city at that time. I found the girls funny always talking about dolls and dresses and the boys fighting over nothing. They used to have cliques at the age of 5 which seems hilarious now. As you can guess, I obviously couldn’t make any friends. I used to walk around alone during tiffin break and get bullied by a senior. I still have no idea what her problem was with me. Clearly we had never met before but she used to stand in my way and abuse me without any logical reason.
My class was very competitive and I wasn’t a bad student. I used to secure my place within the top 10. However, that ever going contest started to seem funny to me after a while. And, I gave up after a few years. You can ask how an 8 year old thinks of all these? Truth is I don’t know the answer yet but I clearly remember how I felt or how the weather was. With having no friends, there was only little I could do. I struggled to make new friends and eventually, I had become the class clown. Everyone used to make fun of me and my curly hair. After 5th grade, it became mostly about how rich you were. Money never had the pull on me even though I come from a middle class family. My parents didn’t spend on anything else except for studies. In their words, we three siblings were their wealth for which they got rewards; my other two siblings are in very good stages in their careers. And me? I don’t know where life takes me. After all, I am still 21. As I was saying, I used to face bullying every day. I cried when no one watched while praying it to be over. You have no clue how much words can hurt. That unbearable pain in chest because you cannot share your pain with anyone.
Two years before high school, I had to change school. I just couldn’t take it anymore. In the new school, people seemed to welcome me with open arms. It was a breath of fresh air. There was little competition, but the “how rich are you?” contest were nowhere to be seen. I learned how to connect to people; understand their words if not spoken out loud. I had my first relationship. Everything seemed just perfect. I became one of those popular people; everyone chanted my name everywhere. I seemed to enjoy that for a while. Then I realized that I was an introvert person and all those popularity hurt my privacy. So, I didn’t stay there to complete my high school. After finishing high school, I faced the first breakup. I couldn’t breathe. My whole world started shaking beneath me. I learned how anxiety could be a bitch. Either it was nagging anxiety or not feeling anything at all. In order to go on, I let the pain motivate me. The more pain I’d get, the more I’d get motivated. What I didn’t realize was, I was drowning myself slowly. I had tried to kill myself twice. It’s safe to say I’m struggling with depression and bullying for the most of my life. And, I didn’t get help when I needed it the most.
Finally, I had this eureka moment after 20 years. I decided to change the way my life was going. I started writing. I know I’m no J.K. Rowling, but I found it rather refreshing and therapeutic. I also started meditating which helped a great deal. I learned to let go of the bad things and finally allowed myself to be happy. I had this great self esteem issue. I used to shy away from meeting new people in fear of rejection. Now, I’m not afraid of rejections. All I’m saying is, those celebrity books about depression won’t help you unless you allow yourself to change; to be happy. Depression is a curse. It doesn’t completely go away. But it’s your demon; it’s up to you if you give it the power to ruin your life.
It was a typical day of summer. I was sitting on my computer daydreaming. My mother was snoring softly. Suddenly the ground beneath me started shaking. Thought I was probably feeling dizzy for over-stress or something. But no. It was an earthquake; rather a mild one. Mom came running into my room urging to go outside. But I thought I would rather wait it out. The truth is, I was too lazy to get up from my chair. I thought my mother likes to panic over absolutely nothing. After a while, I turned on the TV hoping to catch up previous day’s game and all I saw was what remained of a once beautiful country Nepal. It was very painful to watch and imagine what they must be going through. Frankly, I do not intend to experience that to myself. But what would anyone think in that position? I don’t know for whom my heart aches the most – those who have lost their lives or those who have their loved ones disappear under rubbles before their eyes and could do nothing. I can relate to the pain they’re feeling deep inside of their chests. The pain caused by loss and helplessness; what you could have done to save the one you never imagined you’d live without. Some nuts said, “It’s God’s will.” How can the loss of eight thousand people be God’s will? I almost punched a senior for saying that. Now I feel crippled just by watching the news. I feel the loss of those souls and also feel helpless thinking if there was anything I could do to save every one of them. I know the fact that, I am only human who cannot fight a natural disaster. And, I live thousands of miles away. But the heart doesn’t have a mind to reason with facts. Even though I am not really what you call religious, I do pray for them – for those who have lived and bear the loss of their loved ones with them.
I tell myself that I am a big girl in this big world and I can face any curve ball that life throws in my way. But here I am.. Sitting with my notebook and pen. One of my acquaintances took her life a couple of days ago. Well, I won’t lie, a part of me understands her reason. For once, she thought only about herself. Though I wish she had taken help for her depression. You don’t need it in writing to know if someone’s is suffering from depression. I suffer from it too from time to time. It got severe a few times. But as I don’t believe in the afterlife, I thought I would never get another shot in life. This is not a game where you get several lives. So I decided to help myself. That’s a story for another time. As I was saying a part of me understood her reason; the other part of me was completely heartbroken. We weren’t close but it took a few days to process. I know we live in a big bad world and to some this is all nothing but a complete nonsense. But I get completely shattered every time I hear a news like this. It’s like part of me has died with the deceased. A few days ago, I was sitting in the emergency ward in a hospital. People were dying like fleas and I didn’t even flinch. My friend commented that I was dead from the inside. But only I knew what was going inside of me. I was completely shattered. It’s hard to express my feelings. Or I just don’t want people to see what’s going inside of me. I even crack jokes when I’m tensed. When I was 10, I almost lost my brother. The whole ground was shaking beneath me. I would give anything not to feel like that again. But since then it has been easier to connect with the pain of others. It feels like a curse. I don’t even know why my heart does its crushing drama when I hear about something like that. I know in order to survive in this world, I should always put my strong face on and choke out my emotions. But emotions.. Would I be a human without them?
I knew I wanted to be a writer since I was 16. No one knows this or didn’t know this. Where I am since I would have been called delusional because it is not considered as a “real job”. I figured that I couldn’t do what I love so why pursue it? I chose business instead. I hated it the least than other subjects. I am one of those people who is not very good at verbally expressing what is eating them. Last year, I was feeling so restless. I didn’t know what’s there left for me to live anymore and I am only 20. I downloaded a writing app because it looked pretty cool. I started writing my first book. I have been thinking about the plot for some years now. Now it’s only half done like 50 pages. Truth to be told, the first few chapters came out pretty bad which I’m going to rewrite. Sometimes I even wait more than a month to write a chapter; sometimes I write two in two days. I don’t know if I’ll be able to complete it. And if I do, I don’t know if it will ever be published. My story is based in New York city which seemed fitting and I don’t even live in the USA. And as I have mentioned again and again that my native language isn’t English. As they say, the mind has no boundaries. Truth is I don’t even think about getting it published it right now or completing the whole book. I just focus on the next chapter. I don’t what lies in the future for me. But that is the beautiful nature of the future. It’s like I’ve got a thirst for it now and it probably stopped me from turning into a nutjob.
I am the youngest child of the family. To some, it might seem like a dream came true. But trust me, it’s the farthest thing from that. Do you know why some parents pamper their youngest kid more? Because they already have planned the kid’s whole life. The older ones decide a certain career standard, which the younger ones have to follow blindly. If your older siblings earn a high salary doing a desk job in a big corporation, it is a sin if you want to be an artist or something else. In today’s world money is considered everything. I agree money is very important. But so is our souls. It might sound a bit weird but my biggest fear is getting old behind a desk or worse die in one. The society is insane. Posting those “live your dreams” posts on social networking sites doesn’t really change anything, does it? We have become machines which are easily replaceable.
Have you ever sat in the exam hall and trying to find the answer of a particular question? I bet you did. Life is just like an exam hall isn’t it? We don’t know the answers to the questions we’d like to have answers to.
What is the purpose of our existence? Are we just supposed to live it out and see our end? Are we all supposed to change the world? If yes, then who will get to live it? Who gets to decide who gets what? How does God decide where to send us or in which country? Why are some of us poor and some of us rich if God is just? Why am I being called an atheist if I question everything written in the scripture? Why am I getting bullied or being called gay if I support gay rights? Then I don’t support racism either.. So am I black? Why can’t I think of the people of Ghana if we’re not from the same country? Why am I to hate Jews if I’m a Muslim? How does the world work? Why are these so many nations instead of one? Why do we spend half our lives in school to prove our worth? Is it worth it? Does bad grade mean a worthless person or a creative one? Why does entertainment related people earn millions where teachers and doctors earn less? Which job is more important? Should I buy a new pair of shoes or feed an unfed? Which would be more peaceful? Why do we kill people, whereas we can’t imagine the loss of our own loved ones? Are politics more valuable than human lives? Can’t I love everyone except for my family? Why do we have to do what parents want from us? What do we want for ourselves? Are we okay with how our lives are going on or do we want to change it? If yes, why can’t we? Why feminism is being confused with being sex symbols? Why can’t we all be wrong and all be right? How does everyone define life? Why do have to pretend to be happy? Why can’t we take happiness as a mood instead of a destination? Why some us end our lives after a setback or heartache? What is a life worth? When do we do something just for our own?