Day 3: Letter to your parents

{Part of the 30-day Challenge}

Dear dad birth father,

I thank you for loving me and caring for me for the first 10 years of my life; for that I will be eternally grateful. You know what you did to my mother and all this time, instead of hating you, I hated her. Instead of blaming you, I blamed her and I can never forgive myself for that.

When you blatantly abandoned us, and please do not get upset AGAIN over the word abandoned because I mean, let's call a spade a spade; you abandoned us. So when you abandoned us, my whole world crashed. I felt like a piece of me had died; it's like someone had stabbed, cut me open, took a part of my heart and left me open. I couldn't think of a reason why in the world, would you give up on your family? What could be more important than spending the rest of your life with the woman whom you promised a life together to and your adorable little girl who loved you so much? My only guess is that you were seriously blind but now it's your loss.

You broke a good woman's heart and made her so cold that she didn't consider being close to another man for years; you missed out on all your daughter's love and affection. You missed out on birthdays, special occasions, holidays, and everything in between. You missed out on us.

Now, you try to come back into our lives as if none of it ever happened, but news flash it did. I hope that you can read all the anger and the hurt in my letter because I am that angry. I have been angry for longer than I can remember and I realise now, that God had a different plan for us. You were chosen to follow your path and us, ours. Somehow, this has made us stronger. My mother finally found a man who loves her more than life itself and I found peace at last; I found peace within a recomposed family. I have a mother who always wants my best and a step-dad who loves me like his own daughter; what more could I ask for?

As I said, I respect you for the first 10 years of my life but please do not expect more from me for I will not be able to give it to you. You can't expect to pop whenever you want in and out of my life and try to control any aspect of it. You surrendered your rights to any part of my life the day you chose to give up on us. I hope you live a wonderful life with your wives and your children. I wish you nothing but the best and as of right now, I'm officially letting go.

Your daughter.

P.S: If you could please take off my mom's pictures off your wall, that'd be great. It is getting kinda creepy. I'm just saying.

Day 3: Letter to your parents

*Note: I struggled to write this for the past 4 days; I just couldn't figure out if I'd be even able to write anything remotely close to how I really feel. I thought 1.000.000 times whether I should publish it or not, then again, I need to heal some wounds. Since my parents are divorced, there will be a letter to my mom, my birth father and my dad. If you wish to see more from me, do not fret as there will be other posts coming up later on today. :)*

{Part of the 30-day Challenge}

Dear mom,

I wish I could say that I was the daughter that you've always wanted me to be; I wish I could be the daughter you'd be finally proud of; I wish I could be the daughter who wouldn't lie to you so much but truth is, I'm not. I'm a chronic liar; when it comes to you, I am. I've been lying to you ever since, well since I was 13. I've been lying to you about who I am, how I feel, what I've been doing, who I've been seeing and anything in between. I wish I could say that I feel guilty lying to you like this, but in all honesty, it has become as easy as breathing. Lies flow out of my mouth as fast as water pouring out of a fountain. Why do I lie so much?

Truth is, I've never felt like you really saw me for who I really am; maybe it's my fault, maybe it's neither of our faults but I've always felt like I could never be just "me" with you. Growing up, I haven't had much memories of you; you were always abroad and I don't recall ever spending time with you. I think I just locked away all my early memories with you because it hurt too much to think that my mother would rather be away than to spend time with me. Now, I know you had to leave for health reasons and I don't blame you for being away. However, I feel like I had to learn how to grow without you and when we moved to Canada because of your relationship with my father, I felt like I was going away with a stranger; please keep in mind that this isn't me trying to hurt you. This was just long overdue.

You then proceeded to make all these huge sacrifices for me; you worked double shifts while going to school just so that I could have a brighter future; just so that I could grow up having choices; just so that I could have a different life than yours and for that, I will be forever grateful. I understand how much you suffered and how you used to plaster a smile on your face even at times when all you wanted to do was break down and cry but you didn't; you held on for me, just so I could see that no matter what happens in life, you need to keep your head high, and to never give up. You were trying to provide something huge for me and I thank you so much for that.

But Mom, I didn't need you to provide heaven and earth for me. I would given up all those times hanging out with my friends if that meant spending 5 minutes with you where I wouldn't worry about being me. I would have given it all up if it meant you'd be proud of me for one second. I distinctly remember my high school graduation and how I was so excited to see the joy on your face, like every other parent attending the ceremony. After I had gotten my diploma, I looked out for you and ran to hug you. I remember asking you if you were proud of me, and your only reply was "Why couldn't you be on the honor roll like all those kids?" I could tell you how much that hurt but words could not be enough. There'd be tons of examples to tell you how much your words and your attitude had a rippling effect on me but I won't dwelve into them because it'd be opening up wounds that I've tried scarcely to heal.

There were times where I blamed you; times where all I was needing was your love and attention. And since you were kind of oblivious to my needs, I sought out every way to hurt you. now I know that you were brought up differently. To you, love and attention meant "I am feeding you, caring for you, providing for you; that's love." Now, I understand you but I fear that it might be too late for me to change the errors of my way. Sometimes, I wonder what would my life be like if I was the daughter you planned me to be? I know for sure, you'd be proud of me; you would listen to me, you would weigh my words instead of just dismissing them because "I'm too young to understand."

I am not too young to understand anything; I know I've only lived 22 years of life on this Earth but I've felt so many things, seen so many things but I failed to accomplish one thing: that is to make you proud. I don't know if I'll ever manage to do so but all I know, is that I am sorry. Sorry for the way I treated you; sorry if I never made you proud of me; sorry for wishing something bad would happen to you because I was hurting deep down. I know I wasn't the easiest person to handle growing up with all my attitude problems. I love you more than words could ever explain and I'll always will; you're my mother. You gave me birth and you cared for me when it was easier to just leave me with my dad; you loved me in your own way and you'll always want the best for me and honestly, that's all that matters at this point. I don't want to waste any more years because I've learnt that time is precious and it should not be wasted so here's your crash course in Ayan 101:

- I am almost 23 and I still don't know what I want to be growing up. One day, I feel like just writing and the next, being a makeup artist. My heart wants so many different things that I don't know where to go; I'm still learning to know who I am after years and years of repressing my true nature so please bear with me while I figure it out.

- I know you want me to become a lawyer or someone high-profile but I want to be eager to get up in the morning and doing a job I love so please forgive me, because it is highly doubtful that I'll become a lawyer, or a doctor with a PHD.

- I know you always taught me that I don't need a man to depend on and that I should be focusing on school and my career but I have to tell you mom, I am a sucker for love. Love is what keeps me going at the end of the day, knowing that there is someone at the end of the day who I could just lean on, that is my driving force.

- I like to watch Sex and the City and Friends whenever I have the blues.

- I love food if you couldn't tell and nothing, and I mean, NOTHING, will make me love it less; even if it's Georges Clooney asking me to hate it. I will not. Oh, and I might have a serious man crush on Georges Clooney. I'm just saying.

I don't want you to think that you've made my life a living hell because you haven't; I guess I'm a little too over-emotional and a little vindictive so I kept all the negative thoughts in my head instead of just letting them go. So here I am, letting go once and for all. I have shared some wonderful memories with you; you've made me laugh; you've shared your life story with me which made me understand you and where you were coming from. You taught me so many valuable life lessons that I'll always cherish. I hope we can mend these broken bridges between us and finally have the relationship I've always dreamed of.

Your daughter who loves you more than herself.

A different kind of a Father's Day...

Today is Father's Day. I've been reading a lot of people's posts about how great their father was, is and always will be and I'm super happy for them. Yet, I don't know how to feel.

I should be happy that I have a step-father who cares about me and who treats me like his own daughter and in a way I am but I cannot help but think about my father at this point.

When I was young, my father was my hero. He meant the world and beyond to me. I was his little princess and he did everything he could to take care of me while my mother was getting some treatments for her diabetes in Europe.

When I was 2 or 3, I sustained a serious injury that led to a 3rd degree burn on my left leg. There was nobody to look after me and I was a snarky little one so I went into the kitchen and put my leg in some hot oil that just came off the stovetop that was left on the floor. {Sorry for the gory deets.} I don't remember any of it, thankfully but right after my incident, my maternal grandfather lost his life. My family called my mother and she was on the first flight back home. After my grandpa's funeral, my mother came to find an injured daughter. She decided right there and then, that my father wasn't able to take care of me and she left me with my aunt and my grandmother.

After that, I only saw my father on Fridays. In Djibouti, our weekends was only on Fridays. So every Friday, he used to pick me up and we went to go get ice creams and just hang out. Sometimes, he dropped by on weekdays but Fridays was usually our days. And that was our deal when my mother was abroad and she was abroad ALOT. When she was home, I had a regular lifestyle. I slept in my own bed and had my own little dolls. And that was my life until I was about 9.

When I was 9, my parents decided AT FIRST, to move out to Canada in order to rekindle their marriage. My mother and I went before my dad since he had to sell our home and everything else. After a year passed my father never showed up. He preferred to stay back home with his family and he chose to lead a different lifestyle. He chose to become polygamous. So my mother divorced him.

To say that I was hurt by all of this is the least I can come up with. I was destroyed; I was pained. I was so resentful. I was angry. I was so angry at my mother for years instead of being angry at him. I didn't talk to him for years. For 8 years, I only heard of him when his father died {RIP} and on 2 birthdays; if you can even count them as birthdays. I'm born in december and he would call me in April. I'd turn 20 and he thought I was turning 16.

I kinda reconnected with him when I went back to Djibouti in 2006; but he had already spewed his venom. He told his side of the family that he has been taking care of me financially even though he didn't send me one dime in 8 years. To think he's been fooling his WHOLE family hurt me because they thought I was an ungrateful child who didn't care to come visit her dad or his family. I didn't care that he lied to them; I just cared that he lied about me. That's when I realised something. My dad was a complete stranger to me. At that same time, my mom FINALLY:) got remarried to this wonderful man that became my step-father.

To this day, my dad and I talk rarely. We spend 2 years not talking and then he'll pop back for a few months and try to control my life because he thinks he's intitled to it then he'll walk from my life again. On this father's day, I think about what my dad has taught me?

He didn't teach me how to ride a bike; I don't know how to ride a bike. He didn't teach me how to read; he didn't teach me right from wrong; he didn't teach me how to drive. He didn't teach me about boys. He didn't teach me how to love properly. He didn't teach me that family is essential and should be always cherished. All I know and mostly who I am, my mother taught me to the best of her abilities. So this father's day, I am not thinking about my birth father. I want to celebrate my mother and my step-dad.

My step-dad who, in a matter of a couple of years, managed to give me all the love and affection I've ever wanted when it was so easy to not recognize me as his daughter. He could've easily hated me and didn't want to care about me but he chose not to. It's stellar how this ONE man managed to bring bliss and happiness to my mother and I; my mother and I were on shaky grounds before he came in and made us a real family.

Sure he didn't hold my hand when I was scared; he didn't teach me how to read or to ride a bike; but what he taught me is worth much more than everything my birth father ever did for me. He taught me how to trust in men; that all men are not dogs who are out to hurt us. He taught me that true love exists even at 50 years old; he taught me that some people care. He taught me that family means more than wealth; he taught me that and so much more.

If there is one thing I am grateful for on this Father's Day, is to have him in my life. To know that no matter what, he'll always be there for me and he'll love me unconditionally. For years, I asked myself why did God put me and my mother through that hell; now I'm sure that in the end, my step-dad was our silver lining. And I love him so much for that.

"A father is not the one who made you; he is the one who teaches you how to be YOU."

I remember.

As I sit on my bed, checking my bank account balance online while mentally making my grocery's list {I'm a multi-tasker:) }, I sometimes wish I had a machine just to go back in time for a few hours. I wish I was 6 or 7 again. I had no worries back then. All I thought about was my grandmother's mint candy, that were scattered at the bottom of her purse, being the most popular girl in my class, climbing trees (I've always felt I was a monkey in a previous lifetime) and ice cream.

My grandmother is the nicest woman I have ever met and since I am one of her first grandchildren, she adores me. She always had a preference for me ever since I was born; my mother wanted to name me Idmane or Abyan originally but my grandmother asked her to name me Ayan, which in my birth tongue, means "bright" or "the lucky one". My name also means "God's gift"; " Peace" and "Center of the soul". I believe the meaning of names can predict who you are deep down inside. It's like my friend Paul; I have known him for some time now so technically there should be no way I would fumble on his name, but almost every time I call him Nathan. Go figure, he always looked like a Nathan to me; until the day I started looking up names definitions for all my loved ones. Turns out that Paul really means "small" and Nathan means "God Given". I then knew what I really saw in him and it's the same with my grandma; It's like she could foresee the person I was meant to be by choosing the perfect name for me.

she is the only person who, to this day, sees me as a grownup. Everybody else in my family stills sees me as a child and think that I know nothing about life. My mima, as I called her, lived in a pretty big house but what I loved the most, was the big juniper tree on the front porch. She would set a few piled mattresses on the floor and plastic chairs so that if us children decided to play out on the porch, an adult could sit outside and keep an eye on us. She would sit there countless hours, staring at us play around. I remember climbing that big juniper tree, hiding in the branches until she came and sat at the foot of the tree, then I would jump down to try and scare her. But she never fell for it; she always knew I was hiding in that tree and she always feared that I would break a limb. In order for to get me down from the tree, she always bribed me with mint candy; what can I say? I am a sucker {pun intended :)} for candy.

I remember my father always taking me out for ice cream every single Friday; it was our weekly tradition. I was a wise little girl and I knew that if I batted my eyelashes a little and gave my father the biggest smile I could master, he would be putty in my hands and you best believe that I took full advantage of that. It wasn't long before I was smiling left and right in order to get a bigger dose of weekly ice cream. I remember being a girly girl with my little braids and my paisley dresses, just being happy. I remember sitting in my grandpa's lap (May God Rest his Soul) while trying to take my first steps. I remember litterally pigging out on chocolate { another great love of mine}. I remember my first day of school, I was so nervous and when I get nervous, I get a serious case of the giggles. I remember writing my first letter; it was a letter to my mother telling her I loved her.I remember a time in my life where life was just easy; I was carefree. When I look back upon these pictures, I really miss being a child.


Do you ever miss being a child?

My confession.

Ever since I started blogging, I came up face to face with a harsh truth, my truth. Truth is nobody knows me. No need for crocodile tears and tissues my friends, I assure you, this is not a cry for help nor a plea for love. I mean, nobody really knows me, the REAL me. I bet you anything my family wouldn't know what my favorite color is or what is my favorite book but what I learned is that it's really not their fault. It's mine; I failed to show the people who care about me the most who I am deep down inside. Everyone sees the first layers of me; the funny, sometimes loud, sometimes stubborn, optimistic girl who grabs life by the horns and just goes with it. Nobody has seen, let alone experienced the darks caves of my inner core, mainly because I won't let them. What am I so afraid of, you may ask?

I am afraid of everything. I am afraid nobody will get who I really am because the happy-go-lucky side of me is just that, one of the many characteristics of my personnality. I am really dark sometimes; I dive into these bleek thoughts and I feel these shady, gloomy emotions. I am insecure. I get angry for no reason. I am weak. I am beyond sensitive. I am hurt, hurt beyond words; people in my past have hurt me and as much as I try to let it go and not show it, the emotions come back often and haunt me sometimes. That is why I have become chronically insomniac. I am afraid nobody will truly love me. I am afraid to end up sad and alone and bitter. I am afraid that if I show anyone this side of me, that they would run for the hills because let's face it, not many people can handle it. So I bury everything inside of me and I lie through my teeth and pretend that everything is allright; it's easier to lie than to see the deception in my loved one's faces because I am not who they thought I was. Growing up, I did have a good childhood. I had every little thing a girl could want. I had all the barbies and the dress up kits I've ever wanted; you could say that I was spoiled. But there was always one thing missing in my life and that is love and affection. Don't get me wrong, both my parents love me but they weren't the kind of parents to express it outwardly. To them, it was more "We are feeding you, caring for you, nurturing you, educating you, helping you with your homework, cleaning your clothes; to us that is LOVE." because that's the way they were raised. What they have failed to notice is that they brought a ball of emotions out into this world and I guess they just didn't know how to deal with me so they didn't. I've always felt like I was not like the rest of my family; my mother is a strong, determined woman who, despite life's troubles, held her head high and carried through life in the most elegant manner and if I can become half the woman she is, then I'm truly blessed. My father meant the world to me when I was growing up; I saw him as my Superman. I felt like no one could ever hurt me if he was always around to protect me. I felt safe having him in my life. But then, my world came to a scratching halt when my parents decided to change lives.

I moved to Ottawa, Ontario in 1998, when I was almost 11 years old with my mother. The plan was originally that my mother and I would move there and my father would join us a year later since he had a good job position and he had to sell our home and pack our furniture and everything else that needed to be done. But a year and so passed and my dad never showed up. And before I could figure out why, I found out that my mother was filing for divorce because he chose to stay with his parents rather than to care for his family. I felt so betrayed and hurt; to this day, it's one of my pains that will never fade away completely. I felt abandoned. I have felt like that for the longest time and still feel like that sometimes. My mother focused on making a living for the both of us and God knows how hard that must have been for her but I felt like she didn't care. It's like she wanted me to be this little perfect daughter who didn't mess up, who obeyed the rules and if I wasn't going to be the exact way she wanted me to be, then I was not worthy of her love and attention. Now I know that she did care, in her own way of course, and that I was only blindsided by my personal pain to realise it. That's when I felt like going crazy and doing crazy stuff like shoplifting a lipgloss in a mall when I was 14 or smoking cigarettes when I was 15. I felt like no one cared about me so why should I care about myself? I fooled everyone; I fooled them all into thinking that I was happy all the time, that I was honest all the time, that nothing phased me. No one, to this day, saw through my charade.

Through blogging, I realised that I have been lying, not only to them but also to myself and frankly I am tired of these lies. I need to be honest with me and allow myself to actually feel things instead of repressing them. I want to be able to speak freely and not feel guilty. I want to say exactly how I feel without feeling like I would be judged. And I am going to do that, starting today. You know what they say "Nothing like the present". Who's "they", by the way? Whenever we start to say a popular saying, we always say "They". I want to meet whoever "they" is; gosh, there's too much "say" and "they" in those last sentences. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. This is my truth, this is my confession.