“External circumstances keep punching me in the face, so I constantly end up doing some sort of reconstructive plastic surgery.” – Ancient Boxer
My biggest and perhaps only dream was to be accepted by the entire world. Most importantly, however, was not being hated.
And my fear has always been overshadowing my stupid goal.
Before I knew the word terrorist – before I realized my skin color carried any significant meaning, before I was scared that my name will automatically sound wrong, before I knew I am a bad guy, I always tried to not be hated.
I tried to absorb from brothers’ bullying by being subordinate. I did things before being forced to do them. I tried everything and anything just to avoid being humiliated by them.
I tried to absorb the bullies at school by making them laugh, mainly by making fun of myself and being the clown, helping them with homework and whatever it is I could do to avoid being hated.
That’s all I did and that’s all I knew how to do – make people not hate me. I aimed to be liked, of course, but I always settled for not being disliked.
“When a snake sheds its skin, it’s still a snake.” – I just thought about this, but someone in Ancient Rome probably thought about it as well.
To survive in this world without being hated, I also tried to shed my skin.
Then I became the de facto terrorist. Everything about me was “terrory” – my name, passport, skin color, language, culture, hair. So when I flew to the UK in 2006, I came up with a new identity. A fucking new name with a new backstory. I aimed to not be hated and I succeeded. But it was in UK where I learned that the “terrory” bits are not all the story – some people from my own region, the Middle Earth, hated me for being from the country I’m from. I saw that when I went to RCSI.
Although based in Dublin, RCSI is famous for attracting folks from the Middle Earth because 95% of us are sponsored in one way or another, and so never have to worry about the tuition fees. There I met people from neighboring countries who began questioning me about my countries’ foreign policy, why ladies wore this, why we do that, …etc. I tried to shout “I don’t know! Stop generalizing!”, but it came out in a shrug.
With the number of nationalities and cultures I was trying to please expanding, I had to compromise i.e. each individual person was set a priority, ranging from “God” to “What-the-fuck-ever”. A “God” is someone that I will go out of my way just to get a response that translates into “you’re not so terrory after all”. I drank alcohol (even though I was supposed to be recovering) to please such individuals. I lied about anything and everything. On the other hand, a “what-the-fuck-ever” will most likely get a shrug and an “I don’t know” response.
But I couldn’t handle it. With my own demons to face, I couldn’t summon any energy to focus on both my inside world and the outside environment. Both world complement (or complefuck) each other. I tried to abstain from drugs. Voices in my head are killing me. Can’t face the outside world to avoid being hated by anyone, even a stranger bystander. Lock myself in my room. Voices amplified. Drugs to hush them. Repeat.
I managed to not be hated by 98% of the people I met (or that’s my belief, anyways). But along the way, for more than 20 years, I failed completely at pleasing/not being hated by one person. I never even knew that person even mattered. I read about him in books and heard about him in lectures and saw him represented in videos, but I never knew I had a person like that in my life. I even constantly stared at him on a daily basis, but never knew he was there.
In my 20years on this planet, I never consciously thought about not being hated by/pleasing myself. Does this even make sense?
Categories: The Journal