I made a rule for myself that I would not use swear words on my Blog anymore because I wanted to make it user friendly for all ages , but I'm gonna let loose a little just this once , because I do need to release some steam. Or , a lot of it. I'm not even bloody sure at this point.
Around the age of 13 , my mum finally told me that I was adopted. Of course, before then I already had the idea of me being a little bit "different" from both my mum and my dad. I mean , after hearing:
" You don't look like your mum and your dad. You look a little Muslim"
for at least 50 times per year for 10 years ( now would be about 11 - 12 ) , you kinda already have the mindset that you're "different".
Hearing the sentence " Son , you're adopted " didn't hit me that much because well - I already knew , but of course , there were some after effects - or an aftermath. During the puberty years - for both boys and girls , you're very prone to a lot of things. Your emotions can be really unstable , like a nuclear plant about to explode at any second. Maybe now you don't feel much , probably neutral , but an hour later you feel like you could eat a whale , or two. Heck , you might even be able to eat Jupiter. I might be exaggerating a little here.
My aftermath was pretty much on the fact where curiosity settled in. I wanted needed to know my roots. I really couldn't wait , I needed to know as soon as I could. Some demon inside of me was eating my soul. If I couldn't get answers , bad things would happen. And of course , bad things did.
My teenage years were fucked up. Like , totally. First being my mum and dad fighting for a divorce and what not , which caused my mum to throw out whatever tantrum she had on me , because I'm all that she had to abuse mentally that time. Yes , I got traumatized. I've attempted suicide at least 3 times , if not 4. All involved me strangling myself to death. I held a knife once and something told me to stab myself in the stomach but I didn't really want to feel and see blood so I settled on strangling. I'm still alive though , obviously . I pulled through that phase.
Again , I was in the center of a huge war between my mum and my dad . They were throwing so much shit at each other , that I ate most of it myself , and it's not like I wanted to. I just couldn't do anything about it.
That's when depression kicked in too . I was never happy. I wished for both my parents to stop , or die - or I'd kill them both myself to ease my pain. They're still alive today so that's sheer proof that I didn't go into Jason Vorhees mode and sliced their hearts out using a machete. I hit stage 4 of depression , which in my definition , is quite bad.
Here's my depression chart.
- Stage 1 : You're sad. You put on a fake smile most of the time.
- Stage 2 : You need comforting. You're losing it. You need a shoulder to cry on.
- Stage 3 : You're crying yourself to sleep. You're praying for a better tomorrow.
- Stage 4 : You want to end it all. Yourself , or them. Fuck everything now.
I required counseling , which didn't do me any good because I was really HAPPY when I went for my counseling sessions. Probably because the counselor was a really nice person to talk to , and I forgot about the problems I was facing at home , and the demons I was battling inside of me.
When I was in Form 4 , which is Year 10 , which is also at the age of 16 - I had arguments with my mum every single day of the year. I shit you not , every single day. I'm not even sure how both of us had the energy to keep that routine up , but we sure as hell did a good job on both of our parts. My mum had "husband" problems to deal with , while I had to take in whatever shit my mum threw at me in a mental state.
As seen in the image above , physically - people can be there for you. Your friends , family , whoever. But in your mind , it's you and only you. You're forced to face your darkest fears and your inner demons all by yourself. There isn't any other option or way out.
It was hard. Really hard. I'm no expert but , it is hard. I don't think there is even an expert for these kinds of things. Well , perhaps a shrink would be the best example.
In order for me to make myself better and to ease the pain , I resorted to eating whatever I could find in the house , which leads up to now - I'm fat. I know it, and I understand that I'm fat, but my mum loves to shove it in my face. See , the bitch doesn't understand , it's not okay to body shame someone. You think that the person would get "used" to it after hearing the same shit over and over again but no , it doesn't go away. It just becomes worse.
Thankfully, I made friends. Friends who were there for me. They were my shoulder to cry on , someone that I could rely on to pour my heart out whenever I needed to , and they would listen. I would complain and rant about life and about all the aspects that I dislike about it , and they would listen for hours and give me good explanations and solutions to my problems once I ran out of breath. Of course, they had their own problems too so I did the same , I became their problem solver and their shoulder to cry on. It's a give and take.
In Form 5 , which was last year - I didn't have any closure yet about my past. I still needed to know everything. I asked my mum - she said that she told me "everything" that I needed to know. I asked my dad - he held back. I couldn't stand it , I wanted a conclusion.
Of all people , I got some answers from my mums godmother or whatever , which hit me really hard. For that hour and a half listening to whatever that grandma had to say about me , I had only one single thing in mind - of all people , why is a person that I have no clue on who she is , giving me closure on my curiosity. It should have been my mum , or my dad , not a random stranger that claimed to "know" me when I've never seen her before , or can't remember.
I took it in hard. I knew everything , but I still felt empty. I felt a sense of being incomplete. I had a hunch that there was more to the story. A few months later , my godmother spilled everything out , while I was having fun with my god brother. I lost interest in doing anything but listen to what she had to say. I've finally received it. Closure , a conclusion , the end. There were some parts missing , but I was happy. I knew what I needed to know.
Which leads me to now , today , 2 hours ago as of me writing this very sentence. My dad decided to reveal MORE. He wanted to show me a picture. Was I supposed to feel happy , excited , anxious , angry , or puzzled , or something more ? I had mixed feelings. I didn't want to know , not while we're enjoying ourselves eating pancakes and drinking watermelon juice. No , I didn't want to fucking find out here , now - out of nowhere , of all the times he could've picked.
"The right time" . There isn't a right time in telling someone a huge secret you've been keeping for TWO fucking years. Yes , I want to know who I really am , what I really am , where in this world did I come from , who the fuck were my parents , and so much more. The right time would be damn sure two years ago when I was ready to listen to everything , but got only 20% of the story. You don't fucking leave someone stuck on a cliffhanger of a story for two fucking years - especially if it's something that means the world to them to find out. It hurt. It fucking hurt.
I'm going to resume waiting ............
I know my dad , mum , and many other family members might have reached this line by now. I just want to say , spill it all , in paper. Write it down. I don't fucking care how bloody long it takes for you to write it , but I've had enough of listening. I want to read now. I want to read EVERYTHING. No fucking thing gets left behind. Every small bit of detail has to be in . Every single % of the story. I've had enough shit in my life to listen to answers and it being "the right time" .
The amount of shit I've been through , mentally and physically because of this small fucking problem is too much.
An old lady told me that once. I'm not sure if she's still alive or died sometime back , but it doesn't really bother me. Whore , I hope you rot in the deepest darkest burning pit of hell. Fuck you. No one ever fucking says that to anyone. You think it's okay to say something like that ? No , it's not okay. In your next life ( if you have one ) - I hope you go through the same shit I've gone through and still going through and see how you like it.
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