As a child and young adult I had not known that I possessed any agency over the trajectory of my life. It seemed pre-determined. In the place of connection and purpose, I felt helpless and hopeless shame & guilt– for things over which I had no control – and – which burdened and agitated others(which also apparently justified unkindness):
- My extreme sensitivity (to emotional and sensory stimulus) with no guidance or support in times of overwhelm
- My skin color and shape of my nose
- Our non-Christian-ness
- My name, my sister’s name, my parents’ names: Magda, Jilan, Nabil, Judith
- My mother’s and father’s- overall appearance and everything about them
- The constant rage and fighting in our home
- My height, foot size, awkward skinniness
- My clothing
- My clear lack of belonging and direction
- The food, music, aesthetic, and smells of our house
- The effects of my older sister’s relentless unpunished mocking and gaslighting—I was literally hysterical from having my reality denied- by the person whom I needed most.
- The way my family spoke to and of me
I am certain that my life experience would have differed greatly, if I’d felt even the slightest sense positive regard for myself. From a very early age, I was informed to believe: I am a bad person and therefore what I say and do is bad. ALL People are either good or bad. What is a child even supposed to do with that??? My family insisted I could have improved my station if I had wanted to. If only I would just smile more, lighten up, grow thicker skin, and have a better attitude–oh while liking, wanting, and feeling the correct things as they did. Oh, Okay.
Here is the upside. Without extreme self hatred, I would have not married the man (I literally married my sister) I did and therefore not have the exact children whom I have. I would not trade them for the world. But I am tired AF from it all. Not tired like I need sleep, but deperate for some internal peace. I look forward to going off the grid for a few hours this week for a surgical procedure.
