How our childhood can shape us for life

I have always been a better writer than a speaker. Maybe it's because I spent my childhood behind a book because I felt alone and outcasted everywhere I went. I never fit in with people back home in Bangladesh and I didn't fit in with Canadians once we moved here. I always felt like the weird quiet girl that people felt like was an easy target because of my introverted attitude. I grew up being bullied, immensely, for just being myself and knowing my self worth.

 I was picked on for having self esteem, "how dare Faiza be relaxed even when we make her life miserable?" "How is Faiza unbothered by not having friends and being given the silent treatment?" "Why does Faiza not care if we stop being her friends, shes just enjoying her life instead of being miserable?" "How dare Faiza tell us friends dont have leaders, im the leader of this group!"

But they didn't know what I knew, that being alone was my baseline. That when you are already used to feeling abandoned by those you love, it is an average day when strangers don't want to know you. Because of course you don't, my family didn't either.

I was neglected as a child, tossed over to our housekeeper or my aunts who were addicted to soap operas on TV..where was my mother? I dont know. Where was my father? Always working. Where were my cousins? Too cool for me. Where were my uncles? Probably molesting me while noone cared where I was. I don't even remember much of my life before I moved to Canada. And even when I got here, I was even more alone than before. My dad went from being a chemist and a lab manager to pushing carts at Walmart. My mom went from being a housewife to working at McDonalds while learning English for the first time.

Parents fighting everyday, my dad wanting to hit us and my mom physically covering us so he wouldn't. I will never forget that day. And no matter how many times I try to justify his behaviour, I can never accept that my father chose to be cruel when what we all needed was kindness.

Reading gave me an escape noone else could. It helped me imagine a life where I was seen, loved and heard. It helped me believe maybe there is better out there and maybe I can have it too. When I was 13, my teacher, Ms Hafner, saw the isolation and pain and helped me pour myself into poetry. Maybe she saw something in me or maybe she was just trying to help. But I will never forget her kindness, and her attention because I never received that kind of care before. Someone who finally wanted to nurture me instead of sticking me in front of a TV. For once, my words mattered, the fact I spoke mattered. Because noone was listening or even asking at home. 

I poured myself into poetry, learning about the greats, seeing how different structures of writing serve different purposes. I went on to keep writing well into highschool, I still remember the day when my teacher called me brilliant but "your grammar hides your brilliance" haha I had a hard time grasping the rules of a colonizer language because rules never sat right with me. I still remember the days I would get 100 on my essays and short stories, I was sure one day I would write a book that people would read. And they would cry and laugh and finally feel seen.

 It is sad to me that now at 35, I have forgotten most of what I learned in school. But I still have my words. Maybe not the most grammatically correct, or the most structurally sound...but writing is where I come alive. I am able to show a side of me that I cannot express out loud. I still don't know why it is easier for me to write than to speak. People often are surprised when they see my writing, maybe because they could never imagine a south asian, quiet girl like me knowing how to express myself eloquently. I can't explain it, when I write I don't even have to think, the words just pour out. But when I try to speak, the words I want to say don't come out the right way all the time. It takes me time to process which has made me feel stupid often. I wish I could be that witty person, who knows how to banter and say all the right things but my brain feels stuck in limbo at times. I feel mentally stunted sometimes because I realize I never really learned to socialize properly and the pandemic only made it worse. Don't get me wrong, I have been told I am personable and bubbly but learning how to keep friends, how to maintain a relationship, how to sacrifice, how to communicate through difficult conversations...I never was taught that by my parents through modeled behaviour.

My dad was a miserable person most of his life, he never really had good friends or people he trusted. He was always so cynical and hateful towards others. My mom was the opposite, too trusting but also gossiped about others and compared me to other kids who were "better". And together you get two emotionally immature parents who had no idea how to raise children. Did they do their best? Possibly. Was it enough? No. And it may sound harsh but it's reality, whether they want to face it or not. No parent wants to be told they failed or the hurt they caused. They conveniently forget it all, don't they? 

The pain and heartbreak I experienced, even when I barely spoke, taught me that human beings are inherently cruel. Especially to those who mind their business. It is engrained into most humans to reject anyone who doesn't fit in or doesn't WANT to fit in. It's like society decided to punish outsiders for just wanting to be themselves, because they are uncomfortable with people who do not conform. And even after getting my psychology degree, even though I may understand that miserable people raise miserable people, it doesn't make it any easier. Because I never bullied people because I was abused growing up. So why did they (my parents, family members, classmates) do that to me? I still do not know how some people end up performing cruelty upon others even after experiencing it themselves. Because trust me, I wake up some days wanting to make people feel my pain...but how could I intentionally inflict pain when I know what it does to people? I wish others had the same foresight to treat me with kindness and gentle honesty. I wish other people didn't make me want to lose my faith in humanity. I wish people I trusted didn't abandon me when they didn't understand me, I wish they just asked "whats wrong are you okay?"

But atleast I can write about it and how it makes me feel because I feel the only reason I am somewhat sane, even today, is because I kept expressing myself even when noone would listen. And that's the biggest lesson in life.

And I hope reading this encourages you to do the same, keep expressing yourself no matter who is listening because you never know what you will learn about yourself or those in your life.