#Journaling: My Life

I can’t remember much of my childhood. I didn’t have playmates. I grew up playing by myself.

I never was the top of my class in school. Never cared to be. Being an average student suited me cause I never believed that grades made you a better person. I am capable of being “better” to suit their ambitions of me. But what matters to me is that I know I can, but I just don’t want to. I never cared for what people thought of me. But at home, my father always reminded and threatened me by the idea of my cousin who always had scholarships and excellent grades, better hobbies and better relations with everyone in the family. My father thought he would provoke me that way and raise a challenge within myself to be better than my cousin. But that never happened. I never liked my cousin, will now. I have always been proud and tried to maintain my own individuality since I was a child. I have always told them and still do, that I won’t to be someone else. I am me.

My first experience with depression came about when I was 14. It was because of a guy. But he never was the real reason for my depression. It was my father.

S was the first guy I ever spoke to, not to mention that he actually liked me and wanted to befriend me. I was surprised of course and never understood what he saw in me, mentioning that I had at that time a very low self-esteem, caused by my school. However, I was very happy naturally. But my parents didn’t allow it to go any further, and prohibited me from talking to him. They would tell me that he only wants to use and abuse me. But for me, what they were really saying was that I have nothing that he would like and I should know that he is just fooling me, so I must “wake up”. From that day, a challenge within and without has started. And I ran away from home for the first time.
The reason was not because I wanted to run away, but to make a point that I can be loved outside home.

Circumstances, later on, gave me no choice but to try and pretend that I was someone else: I wanted to be part of my school. Through the first ten grades, I have always felt a loner. I didn’t have friends. I wasn’t invited to birthdays or parties or get-togethers, which is why I started to pretend I am someone else. The whole “peer pressure” thing. But even then, it was they who didn’t fit in me, not I. And I was aware of that. So I withdrew again and maintained my solitude. And that’s when the idea of “no one bothers to understand me” came to life. This is the time when I started reading, and eventually writing. Through my pen I have discovered a friend, who never left me or stopped loving me. And that’s when a whole new world opened up to me. It fit with me, and so did I. I started to feel better about myself and more confident, all because I had the magic to write. It healed me miraculously, and I became someone that I liked much better. This is when I decided that I need a big change, to help me continue my self-therapy without any break falls, disappointments or distractions. For I couldn’t take any more of the bullying I had to face everyday , for 10 years, at school. I was pressured, and sadly, was convinced by other girls that I was ugly, too tall, or stupid…etc. So I asked my father to transfer me from that school, which was only destroying my ego. But I was aware, that my decision to change schools was not an attempt to run away from reality, and it did not show my weakness. I just needed to go somewhere new, and start all over again, so that later on, I would go back there and show them how great I can be, and that I won’t take them back to my life as well; and move on with my accomplishment to a better place. Yes, I was even confident that I would succeed.

I was 17 years old when I was first acquainted with friendship. In this new school there was a girl, Heba, and she was like me. We both, somehow, were revolutionary. We were both different from others, and the school noticed it. Being different suddenly became being cool. I had a great time in my new school. This new, growing self-confidence I was gaining, was all because of my own efforts. The secret was that I kept writing about a character, which was beautiful, strong, popular and capable of doing anything. I was very proud of my creation that in no time I became her. And this new self made me go through a lot of new experiences. I suddenly became every guy’s dream. And I felt how a whole room would dive in silence and admire me as I walk in. I knew that I have succeeded with my experiment. But I wasn’t happy.

Because, this new girl that I have become, reminded me of all the other girls I have always hated (earlier when I wasn’t one of them). I was aware that this “new look” I have gained was only a façade, and I was still the same inside. Although now I could fit in with the world, but they never fit in me. So I still had the same problem of not being understood by others. And here the depressions grew more reoccurring (after I graduated from high school). Most of these depressions were caused by love. I never was happy to be with someone who loved me unless I loved them as well. Girls were now jealous of me, and the guys who loved me, loved me for how I looked, my outer appearance, and never cared or bothered to understand the person inside. That never mattered to them. And It was all that mattered to me. That is why I had so many boyfriends. I kept giving myself and them a chance that maybe someone might actually notice the real person in me, not just the pretty doll. But that did not happen, I was like a prize doll, they showed off with me. And I started to hate the way I look, and wished that I wasn’t that pretty. A very ironical wish indeed, but I have learned that looking beautiful doesn’t matter at all for me.

This continues disappointment, reached to a bitter end where I started to play a very dangerous game, with my own self. I was too tired of waiting and giving chances. Too tired of being treated like a pretty doll, and I longed to love someone. And I was always aware that my “prince charming” , the prince which every girl drew in her mind, is not realistic.

In this game, I randomly chose a guy and made myself fall in love with him. I did not care if he loved me or not, (I mean my inner self, not the pretty doll), and I started to draw perfect scenarios. He was nothing like the man in my head. And I did not love or care for his realistic existence, for it did not suit my satisfaction anyway. I only loved the pretty image of him in my head. I only loved the way I loved. This happened twice. And when these affairs would finally come to an end, I fell into sever depression and hate. Not towards them, for they never really mattered to me, but for myself, and how my game went too far till I truly believed what I have imagined. And the disappointment of finally feeling true love, but knowing that it was just a lie that I myself have invented.

After the second time, I tried to commit suicide.

I don’t really know why I did it. I just lost all faith in people and wanted it all to end.

Through my life, no matter how many people I got to know, I never had a real friend. Even Heba wasn’t. She betrayed me and abandoned me later on for a stupid reason, another guy. Even before that, she never fulfilled the position of being a real friend. I never could talk to her about anything. She was aggressive and hated everything around her. And if I wanted to tell her about something that I liked, she would easily turn it to a mockery and laugh at me. So I continued to keep my feelings to myself and write them all down to get them out of my system. Because no one was there for me all my life, I learned to keep my own company. I love being alone. I spend hours alone in my room. Writing and reading about spiritual and philosophical issues. Books were my friends.

I have learned to be my own best friend and companion. And I always dreamed of moving out of home and living by myself. I want to travel the world by myself, work on my own, and be my own responsibility. Others are just a break for me. I go out when I want to get away from myself a little. But they are not significant to me. Cause they come and go, and I always had myself in the end to talk to.
I am social and talkative. But I haven’t found a group that satisfies my thirst to be a part of society. I cannot be hypocritical and misleading to win friends or be part of something that I am not. I rather stay on my own than to pretend, again. I have no problem with that what so ever. On the contrary, I’m glad that everything turned out the way it did. My painful and devastating experiences have made me who I am today. They opened my eyes and made me see a different world, filled with chances and possibilities to excel more and more. And if it was not for them, I might have become someone that I would have hated all my life. Weak and a follower. I do not regret anything I have done, cause without the experiences I wouldn’t be where I am now. My parents never understood this, and others would always tell me that I have ruined my reputation and such. But I am proud of who I became, and have no regrets, on the contrary, I am so thankful to God that I have gone so far, and learned so much. I do not want to follow the roads that were walked before, and it is so hard to find unopened doors. But I will always believe that every one of us has a path of their own. I never was a follower and I will not start being one. I am ready and all for it to find my path. I now plan to live alone, find a job to earn a penny for myself, and continue my path in the way that I have always been familiar with. My ambitions are to be a famous writer. I want to see all that there is and meet all kinds of people and nations. I have something to say, and I have something to write about. I have the motivation and what it takes, I only need moral support, from my family, and to give me the space I need and let me spread my wings. Not convince me and press me down that there is something wrong with me, and that I need medical help of some sort.

There was a time in my life where God didn’t mean a thing to me. I knew he was there, but he just didn’t have anything to do with me. Recently, I have been through novel and great experiences, which I consider them to be the first step of becoming a Believer. I found God through getting to know my own self, and through Nature, and though his wondrous signs. I never believed that religions could make me a true believer, there are just alternative ways for those who need a manual script, a list of things to do and not to do, a guide. I believe that religions are for those who are weak inside, low on self-esteem and self-confidence, and need a leader or a system to follow. Or, for those who don’t know that there is greater way to find God, which is to have a personal relationship with him; not through books and teachings, but through one’s own effort and goal and following his own path.

No one talked to me so I grew to solitude and never asked questions, mug….
The reason was to keep my parents off my back. And to give me space.