don't speak

I should change my name to that. Really I don't even know what came over me this weekend. Maybe because I was a hormonal mess or maybe my mother's upcoming nuptials are getting to me. I cannot take stress I am one of those people. Lately I am butting heads with everyone and it's ruining the relationship I have with my mother. You see my family isn't like one of those lovely families where everyone looks out for each other. Growing up in a broken home didn't exactly do me wonders and my mom's inability to ever be without a mans approval has messed me up. I can't help but resent her these days for leaving us alone for or passing up off to my grandma on weekend so she could see her boyfriend. Granted the divorce wasn't her fault. It wasn't her fault that her husband of 17 years decided to throw us all out so he could be with his 20 something secretary who he got pregnant. Men do that, they get bored. What just really drives it home for me is the fact that she let him walk all over her and us. I have a memory of being 5 years old and having a 3 course candle lit dinner with my father, his girlfriend, all us kids, and my mother. Who brings their whore to dinner I mean come on. I'm not even one to judge but I remember seeing her pantyhose hung over the towel rack and my mom sobbing in the dark. She never stood up for herself, I wouldn't cook my husbands mistress dinner and sit and watch them eat it.He wasn't even a good man, I swear to God he was unstable. He used to terrorize us, hit us, beat us, and my mom apparently never knew. I don't think parents realize the impact they have upon their children. They may not understand what they are hearing or seeing but they still witnessed it. When choosing a life partner you have to look at them. Their temperament, their past relationships, and how they treat those around them.

When I was barely in my twenties I lived with a man who was about nine years older than me. The relationship had my mothers blessing because I was out of her hair. On the outside our life was lovely. We lived in a newly built luxurious apartment home which boasted numerous courtyards, swimming pools, and private gym. The two bedroom apartment was immaculate, I was never more unhappy. I cried myself to sleep a lot. That time with him was hell on Earth for me and my tearful pleas to come home were met with "well honey relationships aren't perfect" and "life is about compromise". I was so young and I was not strong enough. He eroded my self esteem over a two year period. Nit picking at every detail.

Not all abuse is physical and I think psychological abuse is more deadly. I recall a time where I had finished ironing and color coding his shirts. We were both in a bad mood and I don't remember what we were arguing about. I had turned my back to him in the closet and snapped at him that I didn't know what he was looking for and closed the door. He flung open the closet door and raised his hand as if to hit me, "watch your tone" he warned, and he didn't even have to shout. It took me a long time to realize I was afraid of him. I wanted for nothing yet I felt like nothing. I sat through hours of dinners, card games, tea and coffee sessions all in Arabic. That was the year I almost stopped talking. I was like a house cat or decoration. I was dragged along for errands and shopping simply because he hated to be alone. He were supposed to marry and I thank God our application was rejected because he was killing me. Everything I did was wrong. My hair was dyed to platinum blonde, I tanned, I lost weight, I had to get a new wardrobe, I changed my major, and I lost myself all at his discretion.

I could go on but the past is the past. This is thing, which isn't rocket science but if someone loves you, they wouldn't change a thing about you. The more you change yourself for someone, they more faults they will find in you because they are unhappy. I was raised to never rock the boat, to be quiet, and to be a people pleaser. My family told me that each year I talk less and less. Even now I speak too softly, if I had it my way I wouldn't talk at all. There is an Arabic saying "you should only speak if what you have to say is more beautiful than silence".