Hello. Such a very very long time, hasn't it been?
I have semi-decided that I will go back to show up in my old blog, which is this blog that I have left for over 3 years.
Recently nowadays (or since a week ago) I have been feeling down and insecure about my self. A lot of things happened during those 3 years I survived without checking this blog ever again. I also started posting my fictions up online and received a lot of support from my internet friends. There are still drafts I have saved that I haven't post online yet. Writing has always been my 'side' escapade beside locking my self down from a bunch of people. So, since I have been feeling unwell lately, I thought that going back to fix this old blog of mine would help me recover. And apparently since I have nothing to do anyway?
For those of you, my non-existent readers, are curious. I'm in college now. I'm majoring in English language education. Yes, your basic bitch is an English department student. As you can see, this kind of activity like writing on my blog also helps my academic skill in writing. Also the fact that I will be having subjects concerned in writing levels for the next years. Good luck on that, Gina.
I wondered if I should seperate my depressing story apart from this "hey I'm back" announcement post. But that would be a pain in the ass, wouldn't it?
In this post, I'm going to talk about my self. In 2016, I discovered this woke blog online called Magdalene (free shoutout, yoo-hoo!). It is Indonesia-based blog but there are also a lot of articles in English. They put up a lot of articles about various sensitive, even taboo, topics that most people wouldn't like to talk about. There are also articles that talks about what happened nowadays like politics, entertainment, and stuffs. And I liked it. I like to read in people's point of views about the issues. It widens my view. I am now a big fan of the site. I read the articles they put up there almost daily, or at least once or twice a week. The articles made me realize and aware of a lot of things. Including my past. I learned that I have to speak up about it. All those what made me stood strong until this second.
I grew up as a Muslim in a family of four. I was clingy to both of my parents and also to my brother. I loved my brother a lot. He taught me foreign languages like English and Mandarin when I was a kid. I went to the same Christian elementary school that my brother went to. But there were also Muslims there. Thus, I have been taught about tolerance in diversity since I was kid. There has never been someone who told me that "their religion is better than mine" or "my race is more respectable than yours." Me and my school friends grew up in harmony without ever bringing our diversity to our social relationship.
I used to be dad's princess. Dad's favourite girl. He always bought me stuffs I begged him to buy for me. Whether it be chocolates or legos. During four or fifth grade in elementary, my dad moved to other city for job relocation. In our house, there were only three of us; me, my mom, and my brother. My brother was in high school that period of time. My mom had always this rough upbringing when I was a kid. She was in no way to fit with the way my dad treated me. So I hated her. She scolded me almost everyday. And there she was, pinched several part of my body and even smacked me with a broomstick. I was in hell. The house I lived in started to feel like a nightmare. I missed my dad. Everytime he came home once a month or every three months, I always seek protection from him and never tell him any of the nightmare I had from my mom.
During the 6th grade, I started to learn how to think and how to act. My curiousity grew big and bigger. I also discovered the internet from my brother. And that was from where I learnt all the stuffs I haven't been taught in school. And one day where my dad was home, I looked up his phone and found out things I wasn't supposed to find. And that was the exact point when I learned why my mom acted that way towards me. I can't say, until this time, the exact reason why my mom acted that way. But I'm pretty sure that my mom was in pain back then. She was betrayed as a wife. She wasn't treated like a real wife in this family. I felt bad. I felt guilty for her. I felt sorry for all the swearing I said in the back for her. I was just a little kid assuming that what my mom did to me was vicious. Maybe it was, as literally, everything was in the form of abuse. But I have never knew the reason behind that, why my mom treated me that way. I thought she hated me.
As I got into junior high school, I learned how to practice Shalat and how to read Qur'an. I also learned how to wear hijab there, in which I haven't ever wore one before. Turned out that all my new friends have learned it better and far more fluent than me. I felt left behind. The new Muslim-friendly environment made me question a lot of stuffs. I started to think, "how come I didn't grow up in a religious family?"
During this period of questioning about my family, I hit my episode. I had depression. I started to be suicidal and hated the world. I felt like the universe is always against me. My grades went downhill. I had bullimic. I wished I was never born. My junior high self hurted me and my family. I was a burden. I was a failure. Not my mom nor my dad.
In high school I decided to move on from my past self. I seperated my self from my old environment, which is my old friends. I wanted to restart and find new environment. I went to a school where my old friends didn't go to. I learned more about real life shit. I made new friends who turned out to be my best friends until this second. But still, I didn't find my self turning to be more religious than before. Then I started to ask the existence of God.
"is He real?"
"where is He?"
"prove me that You are here!"
Until the 2nd year of high school hit me with a really shocking event (that I can't tell it here). A day where God punched me in the face just like literally telling me, "yo I am here. I exist."
And that was when I found God for the first time in my life. It's true that I grew up as a Muslim because of my family's heredity. But never had I felt something that made me believe in God before. I made a deal with Him. A deal- an agreement that still runs to this day.
There was also time after that occasion that I went all religious. I practice Shalat on time. I read the Qur'an. I even did some of the Sunnah. For the first time in my life, I focused on the relationship between me, my self, and God. I didn't look at any other direction but Him.
As I grew religious, I started to discover various Muslim-friendly social communities. I observed them one by one. I also learned from them about Islam. Some of them taught me about Islam more, some of them showed me how Islam goes. As I got to learn about Muslim society around me, I was in shock.
"This was not how I expected them to be."
"I thought Islam is a friendly religion."
"Why are you all like this?"
As I got to learn about Muslim society around me, I learned that I didn't fit with them.
As I got to learn about Muslim society around me, it made me question the belief I have in God.
"God, is this how you want me to be? Like them? Anarchy, hurting other people's feelings, destroying harmony of diversity?"
That was when I stopped being religious. I did still practice Shalat. But I always thought that the way some people recognize themselves as "Muslim" was wrong and never fits my view in belief.
And one day, shit just always happens. A day where the figure I have always adored in my dad betrayed me. I remember the first time my dad yelled at me. I remember the first time my dad hit me. I remember it all in my head. I still remember it in the form of a really big scar in my heart. I will never forget the day where my dad threw my phone away and slapped me. These really bad occasions just strengthen the thought I have from my childhood. That my dad was the bad guy. My dad, who made my mom treated me like shit. He is the real culprit.
That was the exact point that I started to fear men. I hated men. I learned that men are all like that. I have long gone losing my self of hating men and fearing them. I have long gone losing my trust in my dad. I was no longer his favourite girl. I was no longer his princess.
Dad, I'm sorry I disappointed you. I'm sorry that I grew up not like what you expected me to be.
But dad, who made me like this? I still love you, dad.
But you will have to accept the fact that this is me.
That even though it may seem like this was all my fault, it was yours.
Do not blame mom for this. She has worked really hard to keep this family together...
Dad, you do realize that I am what I am right now is because of you, right? You do, don't you?
I had my depression back in high school. Plus the anxiety that worsen the situation. There was a time where I had to go for a rehab because of my depression. I stayed in the hospital frequently. On new year's eve and even on my birthday. But who knew that God still exist even though I started to distance my self from Him? I made a lot of internet friends that went through the same shit as me. I learned a lot about my self from them. I learned how to cooperate with my episode. I learned that I am not alone in this world. Was it because of my will or was it because of His will?
2016 is the year of lessons. I may have said this a lot but I learned A LOT in that year. That was also the point that I have recovered my self and got better. I graduated from high school with a great score. High school that lasted for three years was a memory of me growing up. In those three years where I fought with my best friends oftenly, where I found God for the first time in my life, where I discovered a lot about my self (my belief, my sexuality, and me as a feminist).
From that point on, I have fully recovered. I grew up. I matured. I locked my past self down to the deepest part of my heart. I didn't throw it away. Why, you ask? Because those are parts of me that made me standing strong until now. I am grateful of my achievement. But I also am grateful of the scars I have. Without them, I will never be this strong. I will never know how to stand strong on my own feet. I learned how to love my self. Shit will always hit me in the future one day and I will go back on peeking that dark parts of me and think, "What would Beyoncé do?" I realized that I still need that part to build my self back up again.
I may not address my self as the part of religious society I have around me. I may not even address my self as the same believer the same way my family does. I believe in God in my own way. We made a deal back then. One's relationship with their God is their personal matter. Everyone should learn this important part in believing. That we are in no way to judge one's belief with their God no matter what condition they are in. Hey, in the end, we die alone. It is only between you, yourself, and the God you're believing in.
There is no conclusion in this post. I'm just saying that even after all those occurence in my life, I still made it through this far. The reason why I made this post and spoke up about those stuffs is because one day I might go back on reading this and it will reminds me that I could go through this once, then why can't I go through the other one?
I love my self not because I have ego and being selfish.
I love my self because there was time once in my life where I hated my self fully and wished to be never born.
Then again, God will not put you in a situation you can't get through, is He?
