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It’s been a rough last few months for me. I’ve come to realize many areas I need to improve in, and behaviours I must change. It feels like I’ve left playing in the water, and am now sitting on the shore alone watching everyone else. I don’t feel as though I’ve been as authentic as my usual self, and it’s been fear holding me back. 

I’ve been meaning to write about this exact topic for months now, but the possibility of it spreading or upsetting people is the exact reason I haven’t. I come from a community that chastises victims and children from discussing their abuse and empathizes with perpetrators instead. But I’ve left that community behind, and it’s time I start living like that.

Below I’ve compiled different areas in my life where the effects of abuse are still present, despite being in a healthy environment for 3 years now. Perhaps some of you will find comfort in relating…

Anger 

Being angry is a natural feeling, and can be extremely beneficial when expressed healthily. Anger saves lives. Anger protects us. Anger can be a good force for change. But when you grow up in abuse, that expression of healthy anger is distorted and twisted into something disastrous. My ability to get angry was stunted very early on. I was the daughter who had to be easy-going. I was expected to get over things quickly and was demonized for being the slightest bit upset. It forced me to abandon the natural expression of anger. And for years I assumed I just wasn’t able to get mad like everyone else. But that wasn’t true. My anger was there but hidden behind passive-aggressive behaviour. When something made me extremely angry, I would go radio silent, and become very distant. There was no conversation, nor would we revisit the subject. And this caused my anger to build up and fester, pushing me to a breaking point. It’s only now at nearly 25 years old that I’m starting to express my anger, and allowing that foreign feeling back inside my body. I’m now relearning how to react, discuss and explain my thoughts and feelings when angry. In a way I kind of feel like a toddler, feeling new and big things. But that makes sense given it’s a process of reparenting myself. 

Neglect 

Growing up in extreme poverty, a lot of my needs as a child and teenager were unmet. I’d be made fun of at school because of my shoes. I’d wear ripped clothing often. Asking for a new article of clothing outside of Eid was always a big deal. Unless it was deodorant or pads, I’d have to wait for much longer than necessary. At seventeen I remember getting $5 every month and holding the bill in my hand until I spent it on my way to school, existing in the temporary bliss of having wealth. I wasn’t allowed to get a job or go to friends’ houses. I wasn’t allowed to stray too far from home. I was always hungry. I’d wear the same clothes for years, often sharing with my mother because her clothes were nicer. No one can fully understand the effects of neglect unless they’ve lived in it and have also *accepted* it for what it was. Because I had a single mother growing up, any complaint of mine was met with her struggle, and how I needed to be grateful. But maturity is realizing that discussing the pain someone has caused you does not nullify your gratitude for what they’ve done for you. But the overwhelming majority of folks aren’t at that place. 

To my surprise, neglect has shown in areas I would’ve never expected. I’ve realized it the most in my relationship with food. After leaving my abusive home, doing the groceries became the highlight of my week. I’d look forward to stocking my fridge and waking up the next day being able to eat a full breakfast. Ordering takeout was also a rush. I felt like royalty, enjoying a $20 meal. After speaking to my sisters, I realized that it was a direct result of not having enough to eat growing up. Feeling giddy at the grocery store can be normal, but in my case, it was not, and I knew that work had to be done. And in all honesty, I’m still in that process. 

Neglect has also hindered my ability to ask for help. Alhamdulillah, Allah has blessed me with an amazing husband, who pushes me to grow and heal and advocates for me in every way. But even with a great husband, I still struggle to express my needs. Let me give credit where it’s due; I’ve come a long way in these last three years. But it’s still something I need to work on! I don’t have the world on my shoulders anymore. I’m out of my abusive situation. But sometimes our minds know things before our bodies do. I’m learning to ask for more help. 

Neglect has also affected my sense of worth. I struggle to buy the things I need because I convince myself that I don’t deserve it. It’s true that I’ve been working on this issue for a long time, and have seen so much improvement. But I’ve noticed it creeping around now and then. I will wear something until the threads have become undone, or it simply stops working. And no, not for the environment or to be minimal. It’s because I am scared of the reality that I am a human that is constantly needing things, and that is okay. I am not a burden for existing. I’m accepting that, I also am forced to accept the truth — the truth that so many of my needs were dismissed and denied. I refuse to continue that cycle by perpetuating these narratives. 

Relationships 

For nearly all of my life, I’ve kept up relationships that have been detrimental to my iman, mental health, and overall well-being. Of no fault of my own, the only relationships and marriages I’d seen were toxic and controlling. It wasn’t up until I got married myself that I witnessed and experienced a healthy relationship for the first time. I was twenty-one years old. Before that, so many people took advantage of me. I was extremely passive and let people walk all over me, and it all stemmed from my childhood. Parents are your first teachers — your mentors and examples in this life. We emulate what we see from them. My husband says a quote often, “If the bird walks crooked, its children walk crooked.” Or something along those lines (he’ll correct me after reading this for sure). And as a parent myself, I understand the importance of leading by example. It will always amaze me, however, how much children absorb from what they witness with their ears and eyes. 

To conclude, this was an extremely difficult blog post to write. It’s not easy being vulnerable online. But every time I get a message explaining how someone resonated with my experience or story, it makes it all worthwhile. And I owe it to myself, before anyone else, to tell my story, as ugly and uncomfortable as it is. Those who love me dearly have supported me immensely in this season of change and I love them all for it. If you resonated with this blog post, or have some thoughts to share, send a DM my way. 

Much love.