Dropped the Bomb.

I have been told that I should speak to my family about my experience.  I couldn’t see the point or the benefit in doing that. ‘Why should I?’ I asked, and she replied “so that you can know that they are there for you….so that you can finally feel that they are on your side and you are not alone.  This is their chance for them to be there for you”.  And so that’s what I did.  I dropped the bomb.

I spent this summer with my family.

It was two days before Eid, and it was probably past midnight.  My mom came to my room to fold some laundry and I asked something vague…maybe it was “mom, do you think I have any stress?” or “do you ever wonder why I have so much white hair”….something random like that. She got agitated and I just went out with it. Like a vase full with water being tipped.  I started by telling her, “mom, this past year I was seeing a counselor for about 6 months”.  I then told her everything. How young I was when it started. Who it was. How I felt. How my nightmares when I would sleep would be of my mom entering the house when he and I were in the ‘act’ but instead of her noticing he would hide and she would never notice.  “Why didn’t you ever notice?” I cried to my mom?  “I just wanted someone to know and help me in that mess…I had no one to turn to and he kept on using religion to legitimize everything”.  I told her about the time he raised his voice at me. I told her about what he would say about his relationship with his wife to me. What he would say about my mother. I told her as much as I could remember at that moment and cried a lot. It was emotionally exhausting.  My mom tried to look at me and be strong …she didn’t cry much. What she did do was kept on repeating ‘Allah will hold him accountable’.  Allah will hold him accountable.

I also told her that by age 18 when I went to university, I had endured almost 5 years of trying to struggle with him, and that I convinced myself that this was a God-given relationship and that I convinced myself that I loved him. I told her that I would talk to Hope about him, but not with animosity but with stories of our love because that is all I remembered at that time.  I told her about the selective amnesia and how I forgot the stress of when it began and the early years that followed. 

I then told her that it was August 2010 that I started my blog and started remembering how it all started. I told her how with my blog I was able to write things that I forgot even happened…the times of heightened manipulation. I told her how karate was also very important for me in my journey and how I am defensive over it, especially when the people I love don’t support me in it, bc of what it has come to mean to me.  I told her about counseling and who I have spoken to this about. I told her that when I started my blog I really wanted certain people to read it but that they weren’t able to, and how alone I felt during that time.  At that moment when I wanted empathy, I wasn’t able to get it the way I had expected. 

She hugged me and said it is not my fault. She felt very bad that she didn’t notice.  She began to ask me questions … “when this happened, were you two in the ‘relationship’?” …”Yes” I would say. “what about that time?’…Yes.  There were many signs and many instances where she would have been able to know – but she didn’t expect that that was what was happening. I told her “mom, how could you have not asked me about the jewelry, the electronics. Where is a 14 year old going to get money for that?”

My mom didn’t know how to take it and I know it was confusing for her.  The next day she told me “now I know and you don’t have to speak to anyone about it”. My mom told me that she mentioned this in passing to my father and that he said ‘Okay’ and went about with his day. “Your father is in his own world” she said.

I was extremely hurt by that.  “Yesterday is not the same as today,” I thought to myself. “I have just let out a secret which I have been harbouring for the past 15 years.  I don’t expect things to just be normal so fast. I need to see some reaction from my family”. My father’s nonchalance killed me. 

Then a few days later mom came to me to talk about the experience again.  She wanted to let him know that she knows. And right there in front of me she called his cell and he answered.  She said “the next time I hear you say that ____ (she was referring to my brother) is your favorite nephew,  I will break your mouth. If he was your favorite, you would not have done what you did”.  And she hung up.

As she said those words I felt as if cold ice had just flushed over my heart. It was very very emotional for me and it was something I realize I needed and wanted to hear.  She left the room. He texted me immediately asking “Why is your mother so mad at me?” I was faced with a situation. My first inclination was to keep it a secret and respond on my own.  But I called my mom and shared it with her.  “No more secrets,” I thought to myself.

My reply was: Because she knows everything you started when I was 14. It was wrong and shoulnd’t have ever happened. Don’t message me.

He replied saying from this day forth he will not message and he asked for forgiveness and said I hope if I have done any good you and your mom will use that to forgive me. He said that he had no intention to hurt anyone.  He also told me he was in the hospital for a mild heart attack and feels it’s a punishment (I later found out the heart-attack story was not true). 

That was that. In the same sitting I cried as I told my mom how I was so hurt by my dad’s reaction. I told her that dad has only been there for me as a financial resource and financial advisor…that he hasn’t been there for me emotionally to any significant degree in my life.

My mom told my dad that I said this. I was napping in their bedroom. He walked in and closed the door…and started a rant.  ‘Your mom told me what you said’ he explained, ‘but do you know how much I want my children to speak to me…how bad I feel when I see the relationship that other parents have with their children?’.  He went on and on explaining how bad he feels that his children, especially my brother, rarely talk to him. And then, I suddenly blew up. I yelled at the top of my lungs.  “This is not about you dad, it is my turn now. No one has known about this – I just told mom a few days ago.  It’s not about you. It’s my turn”.   I was hysterical and crying a lot. All he could do was grab me and as he held on to me I explained that the man abused me as a young girl.  Innocently he asked me if he had touched me. He cried as I told him of course he did…”he did everything before intercourse”.

That was another emotional emotional episode, but that was the first time I felt close to my dad. And, he let me cry and told me to continue crying. He said “even if you don’t want to talk about it, your reaction alone tells me that it was very serious”.   I hugged him back.

My dad ended up messaging him and telling him that he is aware of the text message that he sent to me (the one about the heart attack), and that he should not contact me ever.  The man ended up writing two messages to my dad asking for forgiveness and saying how he has been regretting things for the past few years.  He wrote that he knows if we do not forgive him, God will not.

Then. It was my brother’s turn.  After we dropped my parent’s to the airport at night he said “dad spoke to me…it seems it was very serious”.  All I did was cry. For 45 minutes he held my hand while driving with the other, and that was it. I couldn’t say much at all. I did ask him if he ever suspected. And he said he would have never thought this was happening and that he is there for me.  I wanted to put my hand over his – but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. 

During Eid, the whole family went to an Islamic festival – extended family included.  Near the end of the event, the man came with his wife and son. When he came, my parents moved to another area, and my brother didn’t go and greet him. 

Although it was important to get all this out, I did feel very exposed and vulnerable and hit a few lows over the course of the past few weeks.  Now he knows my mother and father know…and now my whole family knows.  My sister-in-law also knows - she used my computer and found me logged onto this blog.  Alhamdlillah, Praise be to God, I’m glad it’s out.

My sister-in-law thinks that I should continue counselling now that I have spoken to my family. I'm not sure if I should. 

when the victim becomes the criminal

a must listen.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZG6ibK8mwo.
i wish he hears the part about the abuse within our homes and using religion to justify it.

Fighter.

'The more often people fail to come through for you in life, the quicker you'll learn that you can only truly rely on God'.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxV-OOIamyk&feature=youtube_gdata_player

pain.

...amongst the greatest pains is someone you love being unhappy with your happiness

give a hand...

...and they take the arm?

Just got a text message from him:

I know I have no right to ask but I have always had faith in your prayers and you know that. Please please pray for me for peace of mind

I'm sorry. I can't do that.

his father is dying

If there has ever been a sweet old man, it would be his father. A very very kind soul, a man that everyone loved, and someone who didn't get into anyone's business. He loved his small business, and would spend his days working away, smiling at his customers and trying to communicate with them through the little English that he knows. He loved his grandchildren, especially one of them - a beautiful boy who has developmental challenges.

Today I got a message, from my cousin - the daughter of the man in my story, as well as another cousin, both telling me that his father is in hospital. The father has been sick for a while, but was admitted into hospital late last night for collapsing lungs. At this moment, his lungs are at 10% capacity and the family has asked that he not be put on a ventilator. They say that the hardest moments of a person's life are those last few moments where their soul is pulled away. I pray for an easy transition for this beautiful kindred spirit, and for strength to his entire family.

I was asked to call him - the one whose actions I write about in this blog. My heart eased its way into the bottom of my stomach and although I was hesitant, I knew I had to get in touch with the family somehow. I first called his wife - hoping that perhaps she would answer the phone so I may avoid speaking to him. She didn't answer. I proceeded to make a prayer, and called him. I asked God in my prayer to expand my chest and ease my actions, and to remove the knot in my tongue so that I may pass the message - this was the prayer of Prophet Moses.

When he answered, he said "assalamu alykum aiyni" - peace be with you my eyes. I told him I heard about his father, and he proceeded to tell me what happened. He thanked me for calling. He said he wanted to tell me something. Apparently yesterday the entire family was gathered in the old man's home, and due to the lack of oxygen he would sometimes get delusional and speak of things incoherently. Yesterday, this old man remembered my grandmother for some reason (she passed away last year). The old man then said..."and that girl, what's her name that girl?". The man said my name. His father replied "yes her, I really really like her".

He told me this happened last night and he just wanted to pass the message. I thanked him and he said he would inform everyone if anything happens. I prayed for the strength of the entire family, and told him "Allah Maauk", may God be with you.

Nothing puts the transitory nature of this life into perspective like the ending of another's life. As I dialled the number before I spoke to him, I knew what I was doing was an act that the Prophet Mohamed, peace be upon him, taught us to do. In sickness, we must act with goodness towards one another. God loves good.

Without faith, it is impossible to put aside anger, swallow one's 'pride' and brush away hatred under the rug.

No next-appointment

I don’t know where to start.

I suppose a natural start will be how I started the counseling session. I told Ashley (my counselor) that there are three things that I’ve been thinking about. The first is that when I do think about him it’s because I’m reminding myself that I am not thinking of him. The second is that part of me feels sad that I no longer think about it…that I am moving away from the experience. I told her that it makes me sad because it is as if I am losing part of myself – something that was part of me for almost 11 years of my life. And last, I told her that I’m tired of being angry. I don’t want to be mean anymore. I don’t want to be angry.
The discussion that followed was enlightening and motivating.

To my first concern she said that this is a normal part of healing. She said there is a psychologist that conducted a study which asked participants to imagine there is a button that they can press…and if they press it all of their anxiety will disappear. She said most people say they do not want to press it. Moving past a journey is never easy and no one can quite explain why people experience this – it is different for different people….but what is known is that the majority of people experience this feeling.

It felt good to know this – felt good to know that many people hesitate about actually being able to ‘move on’.

I told her for me it’s as if I do not want to admit that I am moving away because then I feel it is as if I am losing part of me. That the experience is something that defined me – especially the changes that I have made this past year (and I see them as positive changes Alhamdulillah), and I don’t want to see myself let all of that go. I told her it was wanting to move away from this experience which has gotten me so passionate about karate, has changed my outlook on life, has made me feel more confident about myself because of the realizations I have made about what I experience and how Allah SWT has made me move past them…I told her I don’t want to lose this. As I reflect back, the experience was my launching pad for so much good Subhanallah.

I also told her it is scary because it was him that filled my mind with a particular image about me. I said that it is him that would tell me when I was 14, 16, 20, 23…all impressionable years and impressionable words…. that I was ‘different’. That I would grow to be a leader one day. That I would be an advocate for woman’s rights. That I would be something "special".

While I am far far from this picture perfect image of a person he created…I told her through this journey, especially this past year and a half, I can see that some of what he would say to me has actually come to be…in some ways I have filled parts of that positive image he engrained in me. I admitted that I am afraid that it will go away. He is the one who built the ‘dream’ way before seeds of its actualization were ever apparent to me...does letting him go mean it will slowly die?

‘He said those things…but you did it. You did all on your own. It as all you.’ These were her words.

She said that just because he said those things it doesn’t mean it is the reason I am who I am now.

And it is true. It is Allah’s will - Allah’s facilitation - that has brought me to where I am. Alhamdulillah.

I told her I’m afraid that maybe the reason why I don’t think about is because I don’t have much time to think. I told her how I’ve kept quite busy – so much so that I don’t have many moments just to think.

Her response – ‘stop over analyzing’. She admitted that some people do that – they fill their lives with things because they do not want to think anymore, but she said that she doesn’t feel it is the case for me. It is true. I am enjoying the ‘busy-ness’. She told me the energy that I had when I conducted the karate class (I've started classes at the club for women) last Sunday was all positive.

She is right. Sometimes we just need to tell ourselves to stop over analyzing.

About not wanting to be angry I told her that when I speak to people about the experience people often get so angry on my behalf – some even swear. While I understand why, I told her I don’t want to be angry anymore. I just want to – and I shrugged my shoulders – I guess I want to just let it fall – like it no longer bothers me. I remember once I wrote a tweet about uncurling my shoulders. That’s what I want…for it just to fall off my shoulders. I don’t to be consumed by it anymore.

I explained that while this is what I want, my brain doesn’t understand why I want that. Why don’t I want to be mad anymore – isn’t that weird? Sometimes I feel I should be angry…that I MUST be angry. Does me not wanting to be angry actually mean that I’m okay with the wrong that happened? This is perhaps a worry that I have.

Ashley snapped me out of it in the way I liked to be snapped out of things. She said if you move away from it, it doesn’t mean that you are okay with the negative. She said it is just your way of healing. As if I was a young child unsure, I asked her if she was sure….if she was sure it is okay for me to not want to be angry anymore.

And again she made me realize. ‘Why not? Who said you have to be angry?’

Ashley said if it is my way that I don’t want to be angry, then let it be. It is my way of healing - there is no manual on how one MUST heal. ‘Let it be’ she said. And it is true. It is okay if I do not want to be angry anymore. I told her it is tiring to be angry. Exhausting to be mad. Painful to carry negative emotions all the time…I just want to…and as I type this too – I shrug my shoulders. It is something that happened, something that has shaped who I am…like other experiences have shaped me…but I don’t want to constantly revisit it.

I explained how when I prepared the speech that I thought I would give at the karate event, especially a section I wrote where I explained I wish I started karate when I was in high school because of the internal strength I feel it gives – the section where I explained that it was during those years that I felt most dependent and most helpless – I explained to Ashley that as I wrote that section I never once replayed the incidents I went through. I knew what I was referring to but I didn’t really think about anything in particular when I wrote those words. As if my body knows it is part of me but that I don’t need to relive it to realize it. This is good I feel.

It was a special day. After almost 6 months of seeing Ashley, she asked me ‘Where does this leave us?’ In the bottom of stomach I hoped she wouldn’t want to schedule another appointment. And this is what happened. She told me that her fear is that my counseling sessions are becoming the trigger of why I think about him. And come to think about it – this last time it was the case. I was fine until I realized I was seeing Ashley and that’s when all the thoughts came rushing in.

I told her I am scared though. I told her I feel like I am on a bicycle and have taken the training wheels out. She gave me another analogy. She said through this you have been taught to swim and now you are on your own…but she is not worried. Why? Because she said I know how to swim. She said since I have been coming, she has served only as a sounding board because I come each time with so many of my own reflections and thoughts. Almost as if the healing happens before I enter her room. She told me to just trust myself. She told me to stop relying on other people to have to validate what feels right to me.

And it’s not like I can’t go back – I can go back if I need to. I hope I don't need too.

Thank you for being my invisible readers through my journey.