The First One Part 3

Friday, October 30, 2020


**Before I begin, I want to display a warning that I will discuss suicide in this post.**

We talked in secret for three months before we had our first fight. I cannot even remember what the fight was about, but I know I felt very disrespected and I told him I don't think I could be with him if he was going to treat me this way. This is the first time I swore at someone and he replied back in the same manner. I felt he was not giving me enough time or cared enough about me as a person. It was as if he just decided one day that he wanted to give me a try and see how things went. Apparently, he had overheard my grandfather speaking to his father mentioning my name and saying it would make him so happy if our two families joined through the union of marriage with one of his favourite granddaughters. I felt as if he remembered that when he saw me and thought "eh... that'll do" and decided to start speaking to me. It only took us three months to realize we were very different. 

    Despite the warning deep pit in my stomach, I messaged him after not speaking to him for three months. I missed my friend. He replied back as if nothing ever happened and picked up from before the fight. I didn't see anything wrong with this although I should have been warier. How could he just forget about the pain he had caused me and keep moving through with our relationship not having apologized even once. I was the one who desperately wanted to keep him around. Eventually, we fell apart again after another fight and I decided we are unable to make this work and I felt as if I lost a part of me when I said goodbye to him at that time. I was devastated and confused. I did not know how to handle this emotional fury, and the feeling of loss welled up inside me. A short while after this, my parents introduced me to another marriage proposal that occupied my life for two years and ended in disaster when this guy sabotaged my life by interfering and messaging my ex-fiance and spilling the details of my past to strangers he did not know. My world crumbled around me and I was furious, embarrassed, and anxious. The wrath of my family weighed down on me. I messaged him angrily trying to portray my anger in words that would not come out coherently. I told him I would never forgive him. 

    Months went by in despair as my world continued to crash around me. My mother would not let any mistake I made slip away without mentioning the trauma I caused her with the ex-fiance fiasco. No matter what I did, it seemed as if I would never be able to make up for it. It also felt like the aunties would boycott me from any future marriage proposals now that I was labeled a bad egg with no morals. I never felt more alone than I did then. My siblings were not old enough to understand what happened but they knew something was wrong and it was my fault. My sister withdrew and became a very quiet person who preferred to remain out of sight and in the shadows. Whatever she did, she would do it quietly, in a noticeably sneakier manner so that she did not stir up any trouble. I could not process my grief. The person who I would run to with my problems became the source of my pain. I imploded inwards while trying to portray a calm demeanour on the outside so that I did not trouble my parents further. Slowly, time went on. 

Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

    As my wounds began closing over, I started reading the emails my betrayer continued to send me now and then stating how much he wanted me back. Once again, I succumbed blindly without considering the consequences. I convinced myself I needed him to maintain my sanity when nothing could have been further from the truth. I didn't have anybody there to warn me. I once again fell into his trap in the name of love. I didn't see the manipulation and the games being played. At this point, he realized no matter what happened, I would come back and he began trying to push my limits. He needed more from the relationship than before and his demands became frequent and more difficult to accept. I felt trapped. Sometimes I would lie in bed racking my brain on what to do with my situation and look for examples to help me figure out what to do. How do I say no? Can I even say no? I thought back to what my mother would do in a similar situation with my father. No matter how angry she was, she would succumb to the pressure in one way or another and I was taught to be obedient and make others happy despite what I felt. So I tried to be a good girlfriend and make him comfortable and happy despite wanting to say no or run away. He wanted me to learn to be more sexual and please him because that is what girlfriends did for their boyfriends. I was going to marry this boy so this should be okay. I can do this for my future husband. I will have to keep him happy for the rest of our lives so why not start now?

    I would coax myself into bending to his desires by telling myself this is the last time I will do this for him. After this picture, I won't send him another one for a while no matter how much he begs and irritates me. I don't know how I even managed to comply to his demands with no privacy or locks on my doors. I learned to be very creative and sneaky. These behaviours weighed down very heavily in my conscience and exhausted me. I would force my brain to go numb and not think about what I was doing. I also hated the way I looked. I looked nothing like the models and actresses he would rave about. I did not have the perfect woman ratio that he would sometimes mention to me. He would tell me I am beautiful but I did not believe it. Actually, that is not true. When he would say it I felt ecstatic, I received that dopamine and endorphin rush. Later on, when I was alone, I would be horrified with myself and feel very dirty and gross.  

    Over time, I learned that his sisters found out about our relationship and did not approve at all. Unbeknownst to me, they began reading our emails without my ex knowing. The first time that my cousin let it slip that my emails were being circulated by the cousins and aunts within my father's family, I panicked. I warned my ex that the girls were able to get into his laptop and were reading private emails. He laughed it off and dismissed me by saying his sisters did not have the courage to go into his room and go through his computer. I wanted to believe him. I really wanted to believe that was true and calmed myself. A few months after this encounter, my mother received a phone call from my aunt who excitedly relayed the news of my indecency to her. My mother suffered a breakdown at the news she received. She did not know how to handle it or me for that matter. She was lost for words. I had become the most vile creature on the planet in her eyes and she could not believe I was her own daughter. She did not speak to me for over a month. Even though we were in the same home, she behaved as if I did not exist. If I asked her anything she would ignore me. I began avoiding her because of the tension and anxiety rippling through me. I would sneak into the kitchen for food when I knew she wasn't at home or I would eat during school. I lost the privilege of using the computer completely so I worked on school assignments at school so that I wouldn't fail my courses. 

    My father knew something was wrong, but he did not know what it was. He didn't seem to unfazed since he knew I was capable of making a multitude of mistakes. The atmosphere in the homemade him uncomfortable, so he reacted to it by being gruff and angry all the time. I dreaded walking home after school and would take as much time as possible. My anxiety and heartbeat would skyrocket with each step I took towards my home. I also worried about any new threat that would reach her and make my life even worse than it already was. I had no escape from the constant weight of my mistakes. I wanted to disappear forever. Little did I know, this was not the end. One day, my mother abruptly asked me if I wanted to marry him. My eyes widened in fear and I shook my head vigorously. I knew there was only one correct answer to her question. I could not let her believe I still wanted to be with him because I feared the consequences. With my pupils dilated and eyes almost popping out of my face, I stared at her and said I would never speak with him again. I couldn't hold back the tears of pain and of being torn in different directions. I needed someone to save me. 

    One day, I received a message from my cousins telling me to type my name in Google with no further context. Shaking, I slowly typed my name into the system and the first few websites that showed up on the first page all contained my name. I clicked on the sites and I stopped breathing, horrified. I was displayed all over the internet. Scrambling, I contacted the sites to have my pictures taken off but not all replied back to my pleas. There were no strict regulations for property theft and online revenge by scorned exes was rampant. It took me many months to get my pictures off of most of the websites but a few remained leaving me helpless. I felt like I was living in a time bomb that was ticking my demise. I messaged my ex panicked. He calmly stated he had no hand in this and ended the conversation there. I explained he could not just dismiss it at that because he was the only one I ever sent these pictures to. He shrugged me off claiming that there was no proof that he was the only one I was flirting with all this time and to leave him alone. I knew it was his sister and my cousin who must have done this but the fact that this guy threw me under the bus made him responsible too. At the time, my faith shattered completely but I still could not make myself blame him. He could never do this to me. He loved me. 

The finicky aspect of having photos and messages strewn everywhere is it becomes nearly impossible to remove completely and the ones who have them can always upload them again whenever they feel like. There was no escape for the rest of my life. This could affect everything about my future, my career, my relationships, and my family. I hid it from my mother for as long as I possibly could until one of my aunts who was also involved in my destruction called my mother herself when she noticed that my mother had not found out. The bomb finally ignited and exploded. My parents lost their trust in me completely after this point. They refused to let me study abroad and confined me to home and school with no other form of escape or activity. I began working so I could avoid being home as much as possible and I used my university time as a mental escape from life. This became a form of self-sabotage as I failed out of my second year of university and lost focus entirely. This just added to the burden I already carried and the failure I thought I was. I would never amount to anything and I was unworthy of love. I thought maybe being even more submissive was the way to fix my mistakes and I threw my will away. I surrendered to my parents' desire and locked myself away at home. My mind crumbled and shattered into a million pieces along with my heart. I prayed and begged for mercy from everyone and God to help me get out of this mess. But like my mother reminded me every single day, this was my fault and I didn't deserve any mercy. I had brought this on myself. 

    I lost all my ambition and drive. There was nothing left for me in this world that willed me to wake up in the mornings. I prayed that I wouldn't wake up and this pain would end. I didn't want to be alive anymore. I knew what had occurred would haunt me for the rest of my life. I couldn't think, speak, eat, or feel anymore. I did not have the strength to bear all this by myself. I needed help. My mother didn't understand what was happening with me. When I explained to her that I was falling, that I was depressed, she would scoff at me and tell me that I was being dramatic as usual and I need to learn to deal with the consequences of my actions. Therapy was for people who actually needed it. One night, I walked into the kitchen and glanced at the knife lying on the countertop and I picked it up. My first instinct was to plunge it right into the middle of my chest. But I began crying and slid onto the floor still holding the knife. This was the first time I cut myself. As I sliced my fingers to get used to how it would feel, I stopped because I thought the mess my blood would make on the floor would upset my mother. I needed a cleaner way to die. Ironically, my mother's wrath held me back from ending my life that night. I became obsessed with the idea of not existing anymore and being free. I thought maybe this would be a message for those who think it was okay to hurt someone in this horrible manner. I hoped I would haunt those who were laughing at my pain. I wasn't even angry anymore, I just could not move forward. 

My mother and grandmother demanded that I needed to convince him to marry me if I wanted to continue to live in the house. They forced me to call him in front of everyone. He bluntly stated he wasn't ready for marriage and his parents did not want him to get married to me either. He proved my mother right about everything she had warned me about since the beginning. My paternal grandmother scoffed at me, looking at me as if I was standing naked in front of her and all used up. "Nobody is going to marry her now," she grumbled as she glared at my mother as if all this was her fault. 

    I failed two semesters of full-time classes, but I spent that time trying to heal myself. I would grab my best friend in my two-seater car and we would drive off to anywhere and everywhere. We would go on long drives all over the lower mainland. Rain or sun, I would bypass the university for another day of exploring. Working helped me acquire the money for gas and other car expenses. These girls became the crutches on which I hung on to life with just a thread. We would try different restaurants or just sit in the car listening to the rainfall and the music playing. These moments were beautiful but they brought their own sense of unease in me because I was always worried about getting caught and having another privilege taken away from me. Somehow, I made it through the darkness. Even I cannot clearly remember those days anymore or how I managed to survive. Somewhere during one of those drives, I realized there was so much of the world I had yet to see and that there were some good people in this world who would make everything worth it. My friends taught me that those who love me unconditionally and know who I am will love me no matter what others say about me. This was a new but eye-opening concept for me and what helped me get up every morning. If I felt completely alone, I may not have made it to the present or tell my story. I found solace and pleasure in food. Food became another escape for me. While I was eating, I was in complete bliss, I would not feel any pain. I would laugh and talk with my friends while trying out some delicious chocolate-filled dessert. Hope slowly grew within me. I stopped feeling like an empty shell. 

    I have come a long way from those days, but some of the damage and scarring is permanent. My state of chronic stress resulted in unhealthy coping mechanisms and health problems. Even now, I have anxiety attacks and have to check my browser and make sure there isn't a new website with my pictures on it. What I went through was very traumatic and I did not receive any professional help for it. The healing process is always a work in progress because there are good days and bad days. But the trauma no longer consumes my life. I couldn't let others get under my skin and destroy my wellbeing, and I learned how to fight for myself with some trial and error. My reason for telling my story is to help mothers with daughters learn from my own mistakes and where changes could have been made. Having open communication with your daughters is the most essential aspect and something that could save their lives. Daughters should feel safe coming to their parents with their concerns so situations don't go out of hand. Therapy can be really helpful especially when someone is looking for help. One of the most important factors that could help prevent suicide is having a support group and knowing we love them. 

Until Next Time,

To read the previous parts please visit the links below:

Intro Photo by Stefano Zocca on Unsplash


  1. Read your blog. Deeply moved with your sentiments. You were naive and got exploited. This phrase really stuck to me. "The person who I would run to with my problems became the source of my pain.". This is such a complex situation and may God deal with those people who manipulated and harassed you. No girl should have to be played like that. It's a relief to read you survived this achingly painful chapter in your life. You are a beautiful and loveable person and your sentiments are so pure. May God keep you happy and under his protection always and forever. May you shine bright like a star.

    1. Thank you very much for your wonderful feedback! It really was a tough situation for me at the time. I am glad I made it through and I have my wonderful tribe to thank for that.


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