I’ve done it

It is quite obvious to me now that I have only ever wanted one thing in my life – leave it. I never realised that this is what I wanted, denial is an incredible thing. I am 30 years old now and you could even say I have been in denial/ not realising for more than 2 decades.

It explains the depression, the need to do something but not knowing what it is, the suicide attempt, the constant questioning of everything I ever did because I never really knew myself, the fact that I never really knew myself…. just everything. I went through all of this because I was stuck in place that just wasn’t right for me. Nothing I did could fix it because no one can change the environment they live in. The only thing they can do is leave it.

My favourite song growing up was the old Ugly duckling song from Timless tales.

I mean at the age of 9 I was obsessed with it and cried everytime I heard that song. I never got into any of the princesses. Just that duckling. A few years later Anastasia came out. I read up on her before i watched the movie – family betrayed and killed and she makes it out on her own. I used to think WOW what a badass! I was incredible annoyed when I watched the movie because it was just so princessy. My mate growing up was the little papaya tree in the garden that mum said would die soon… so I would go and talk to it everyday after school. How obvious can it get that I was trying to flee from my family? That I was attracted to the things that had no one and weren’t loved?

There are moments though, my mum laughing when I told her I wanted to just please her but I get so tired, her hugging me and telling me all she wanted was for me to get good grades. Sleeping on her lap some afternoons, her running her fingers through my hair. My dad teaching me to tie my shoe laces and feeding my sister and I breakfast… it was all little moments in my life where I thought to myself “see its not so bad. This is all you need”

It didnt take much for those hugs and those cuddles to stop. I can’t remember my sister and my dad in most of my memories. But then I found faith through my grandma. She would tell me stories from the Bible and teach me songs and once again I had family. Someone to rely on… so denial… once again. “Im fine, this is all I need”. Even in the Bible… Joseph is my favorite character. The one with the 11 brothers. Betrayed and sold as a slave, he becomes a pharoah and saves his family. Ha!

The signs were all there.

But it took 2 decades of this constant back and forth and FINALLY for me to see my parents watching TV while my 1 year old son bleeding on the floor for me to realise “I am not supposed to be here. I need to get out”

I had to get out.

I stand here at the bus stop now. It is 6.10am, Tuesday the 11th of April 2017. A year after I finally did it. It is freezing cold morning here in Sydney. I have just said goodbye to my kids and walked out of the house my husband and I built. And this is my view

For anyone who is reading. This is a house in a construction zone. Just another house. I mean there is rubbish everywhere and bricks still strewn about in the front lawn.

To me, this was my ticket out. Away from a horrible life that was suffocating me since before I can remember. This is hope, that leaving a life doesnt have to mean killing myself but just simply walking away. This is my blood. My sweat. My tears. 30 years in the making. Its not much but its all I have and it’s more of a start than I had hoped for. If I believed in God I would thank him for bringing me finally to this state of mind. Where I know why things happened the way they did.

For those of you who have been following my blog. This is it. I cannot explain anything that happened to me before my marriage but I know now I wasn’t forced to marry. I needed to marry him. I needed to see my in laws working together to know what a family is supposed to be like.  My kids were not accidents. I needed my daughter to be my pillar of stronghold at a time of utter betrayal. I needed my son to be my positivity at a time when all I could see was death and destruction.

I do not believe in God because I don’t understand why I had to have such parents to begin with. But I believe now If he is true, he might have actually paved a way for me to get out of it long before I even realised.

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This Faith of mine

My husband was up for a promotion. Infact they put him up for the job on a secondment and then told him he’ll get the job permanently in feb next year. Anyway as luck would have it, we got the bad news yesterday that it was not going to happen. We were so upset because we were riding our entire lives on that promotion and it was all gone. That day we told his mum and she says “that’s okay, whatever God has planned it will happen. Maybe he has something better for you”

I know she meant well but That PI$$ED ME OFF so bad! SOOO BAD. I’m SICK of waiting on this so-called almighty to come and save me. Because I have been waiting for this said God to give me a break for years now… and I don’t see anything happening. Whatever better plan he has for me has not happened yet because not only did I lose my parents this year, I also realised that they have been screwing me over for years. I have lost my entire family, my entire history is gone. I have had to sell everything that belonged to me just to survive! I have no money, infact my husband and I have gone hungry for weeks because we only had enough money to feed the kids and get them diapers after paying the rent, the bills and the mortgage. There was even a couple of weeks we couldnt afford to get the diapers so our babysitter had to buy it for us!

Anything good that HAS happened was because of my own willpower to make it happen. Im so done with this fake faith that everybody is so invested on! SO OVER IT!

Ugh.. ok that’s my rant.

 

Christianity and why I don’t believe it exists

I come from a culture where we are taught that religion comes first. No matter what….God is first. The problem is, that same culture confuses cultural rules with religious rules. Like for example; we are not allowed to drink at weddings. When I was younger, I was led to believe that this was because it would not sit right with God…. but the truth is, God doesn’t  give a shit… people just don’t want to spend money so others can get drunk.

I started questioning these rules during my late teens. I researched and got a pretty good idea of what was right according to the Bible and what was just a cultural thing. Up until this year, I was a pretty religious… I even named my first Born “Faith”.

I finally questioned the fact that a God exists during my 20th “conversation” with my mum about my uncle almost raping me – twice and her not caring… I thought to myself… “why would I be put in a family where they just don’t give a shit? I know that God only gives you as much hardship as you can take but surely after almost 3 decades I would have had some kind of resolution/ closure with this? And if marriages are made in heaven…. what the fuck did I do to deserve an asshole? Like force married to an asshole!”

I cannot disregard that a God exists because there are some things in this world that I cannot explain… but I cannot say he exists either because well…. why are all these children being hurt these days? Why can’t God stop it from happening? I know humans do alot to themselves and they have the choice to go ahead with a bad decision or not but how would a kid being abused have a choice? The Bible says that I should respect my parents and honour them… do I still honour my parents even though they blatantly don’t care about me?

I am feeling ridiculous writing all of this. I know there are going to be comments with a yay or a nay in it but I just don’t get it. So I am just going to say…. if there is a God he is not all powerful. He is there to give us hope during hard times so we have the strength to move on and not kill ourselves. Scriptures are there to help us live lives as good people and that’s it. There is nothing supernatural about God. There is no heaven and our lives on Earth is hell.

This is what I believe. I wish someone out there would prove me otherwise.

The whole truth and nothing but the truth

I have been trying to write the third part of my story for a long time now but the truth is I am not the type to sit down, think about it and then put it into words. Good or bad, emotions drive me so that’s exactly what I am going to do. Just let the emotions write the last part of my story.

The whole reason I started this blog is because I needed someone to hear my story and validate it, to say … “man oh man that’s tough!” Yea I know how it sounds like… like I was just looking for attention? But I was… I AM! And this is why…
Part 1 here
Part 2 here

A few months after my wedding, things in my parents house was getting unbearable. There was an argument that broke out between my parents and I and this was the first one we had had since my sister left the house. So it was BIG. In my moment of anger I asked my mum If she remembered the day I told her about my uncle. Mind you, we don’t talk about anything taboo in my family and in my question to her, I never specified which uncle or what day.

Mum says “Yea, I do. You were around 6. You were wearing your light pink dress, you were standing in the lounge and I was sitting in the dining room with your grandmother… you told me he touched you”

Continue reading The whole truth and nothing but the truth

Daily Update

Today has been a particularly hard… tiring day.

Good old Mr. Virus decided to attack me last night, so I have this incredibly feels-like-glass kinda sore throat and cough. To top that off my entire body is shivering and hurts like I have been hit by a truck. Not sure if this is from the accident or the flu… or both. To top THAT off, when I woke up this morning my dad decided to pick a fight with me.

I told him that the tow truck driver was coming to drop off the car until the dispute gets resolved and his reaction was to call me names, he called my husband names, My kids were crying,  I called him names, My mum was trying to diffuse the situation and I regret not punching him.

I am so drained. Physically and Emotionally completely and utterly drained. I cannot give anymore, I don’t have the energy to take either. I have literally given them my entire life and they still keep asking for more WHILE wondering why on earth I am actually mad! I just want things to work out for once without me having to go through so much sorrow. I know nothing comes easy in life but honestly asking for some help when I have just nearly died a few days ago is not that bad to ask is it? Is God not watching this? Is he even there?

I’ll be honest and I promise I am not over-reacting. I wish I had died in that accident. I would like to think that, that might have let people know how much I actually do in this house. But I know it wouldn’t have. Me dying would have amounted to nothing, because they would have just blamed my husband and kicked him out of the house.

Because that’s just my Indian Family.

The whole truth and nothing but the Truth

I initially started this blog to tell the world my story. I thought I’d be creative and write like all those fancy writers and perhaps maybe turn this into a book. Then the whole world will know how unfair my entire existence has been.

But that’s not who I am. I am not creative. My story doesn’t have enough to pull in a crowd and heck I’d be lucky to get even one reader in this blog.

I’ve decided to be me. I am going to be direct. That is me. No filter.

The basics

I had a childhood like everyone else. I grew up in an upper middle class home. My mum was a teacher, my dad an accountant, my sister (who is 7.5 years older than I am) was like a second mum to me. Due to the age gap and the sheltered life I lived in India I was naive enough to believe everything my parents taught me. “Family comes first” “Girls wear dupatta everywhere they go”. Before you get ahead of yourself… I should tell you that this is not a story of feminism.

Everything I thought I knew about my family was put to the test the night my uncle used my hands to give himself a hand job. I was probably 7 or 8 years old. I did tell my mum and my grandma the next day but there’s only so much an 8-year-old can explain. I can’t quite remember what I said but I do remember my mum and my grandma saying “your uncle was showing you how much he loved you”. I knew that explanation wasn’t quite right. But I also knew, there would be quite an extreme drama if I kept pestering and I just let it go. He was leaving to go back to Australia that afternoon anyway.

We migrated to Australia when I was 13. The only logically place to stay was at my Uncles house until we got our life patched together in a new country. I did this thing subconsciously where I packed enough in-skirts to wear when I was taking showers but I didn’t let myself think about why I was doing this.

As luck would have it. I got my first period when I moved into his house. I turned clumsy, always aware of my surroundings and who was or wasn’t watching. Always timed it so I wasn’t home alone. Never took showers without my clothes. I was bullied at school and I had no friends. This was the first 8 months of my life in Australia.

My parents are proud people. My parents were now laborers in a factory. From a teacher/ accountant to carrying loads of God-knows-what from one end of a factory to another is enough to turn anyone to depression. And it did. I saw the depression take over them so I never said a thing. I didn’t tell them about my anxiety, I didn’t tell them about the bullying, I didn’t tell them how I used to eat lunch on my own in the nearby bushes at school.

We eventually moved out, got our own house, my parents eventually got into good jobs and our life was normal. My anxiety was somewhat gone and sneaking alcohol in my Coke bottles gave me enough courage to make friends at school and I could finally go through my normal teenage-y, “i-hate-the-world” phase.

The Sibling

Continue reading The whole truth and nothing but the Truth