Growing Up in a House Full of Boys

Today, I finally mustered the courage to give therapy one more go. I researched a lot and finally picked a therapist. Being a first session and interaction - she routinely asked me - Tell me about your childhood. Suddenly, as I tried to think - An episode came to mind, an episode I haven’t thought about in over a decade and suddenly I was transported to a day that I dread even today. And suddenly, I felt like the scared and lost 3 year old Me - A feeling that I haven’t been able to shake off even 6 hours post the session.

In today's world, it's sad to think that some families still prefer boys over girls. I was born into one of these families, and my early life was filled with sadness that still lingers today.

Thankfully, my parents initially decided not to give me away, but this was just the beginning of a very tough time in my life.

Not long after I was born, my parents faced a lot of pressure from our extended family to have another child. Just 18 months later, my little brother arrived, and suddenly, our family was seen as "normal" in the eyes of society. However, this came at a great cost to me.

While my parents were busy trying to fit in, I felt increasingly left out. My life changed dramatically when our neighbors, who ran a daycare center, became like a second family to me. They started taking care of me when I was just a month and a half old, as my parents had to work multiple shifts to make ends meet after being thrown out of the house. And this continued until I turned three. I rarely saw my parents during those years, except for occasional Sundays when they picked me up for a day at home.

My memories from that time are fuzzy because I was so young. But there's one memory that still brings tears to my eyes and had a lasting impact on me. It happened during an evening when I was alone at home as my parents had to step out. Time passed quickly and it was dark outside. But for me, I was sitting in a dark room instead of an extended family being under the same roof - my grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins - a huge household.

I was too scared to leave the room and I couldn't reach the light switch. I remembered my mom's words, telling me to stay put and call my aunt if I needed anything. I was really thirsty, so I mustered up the courage to go to the kitchen and ask for a glass of water. Unfortunately, one of my uncles overheard me and scolded me harshly. He reminded me that I was a girl and that my existence is a burden. Despite my fear, I tried to get the water, but I accidentally burned my foot on a hot pan on the stove.

I took the glass of water and retreated to a dark corner, tears streaming down my face. Another uncle saw me crying, and instead of comforting me, he got angry and slapped me so hard that I fell and hit my head on a nearby table. It left a scar, both physically and emotionally.

When my parents came home and saw me in that state, I mustered the courage to tell them what had happened. Their anger led to a lot of yelling, accusations, and heartache. Some family members insisted that having me was a big mistake. The decision was unanimous: I had to leave the house. In the middle of the night, my parents took me to my maternal grandparents' house.

And, once again I was in a new home, surrounded by people I didn't know, and wishing for going back to the neighbors who had become like family to me. Sadly, no one paid attention to my wishes, and I spent the following days and nights crying myself to sleep.

More on life later…