I was born in a city island with a then-population of 2 million. It was my Krypton. I was the eldest. My sister came three years and two months later. The first few years, which I had very little memory of, was spent living in my paternal grandmother's house. I knew that from looking at the photos. We later moved to a home of our own, a 3-bedroom apartment on the seventeenth floor of a flat. Shortly after that, my sister was born.
Dad worked as an engineer, later remisier and later property developer. Mom had been a secretary at her uncle's firm for some years, and then left that job – under duress – to raise my sister and me full-time. My parents have contrasting personalities. Dad was loud, dominant with a hair-triggered temper. (Literally! He once exploded when I messed with his hair.) Mom was docile, submissive and generally accommodating (60% of her duties as homemaker was being accommodating to Dad). This would explain my sister and I having polarized personalities. She was extremely extroverted and bold, and I extremely introverted and timid.
For the most part, my parents took care of my physical needs. I got a roof over our heads, clothes to wear, and food to eat. My emotional needs, however, were an entirely different issue. Dad was never sensitive. He was blunt and at times brutal, and that was during his good moods. Mom was self-loathing and emotionally fragile. Dad reduced her to tears a number of times. But that went without saying that he reduced my sister and me to tears many times over.
I was shy, anti-social and had self-esteem issues. I was not the top student either in the classroom or in sports. Expected by my parents to get straight 'A's but never did, they made their disapprovals (and frequent disappointments) critically clear. No matter how many 'A's I did get, it was not good enough. Even when I was in the top six in the class, Dad would point to my poor physical fitness results as argument that I had not performed to expectations. In short, my parents found anything and everything to put me down. They never accepted me as I was, let alone encouraged me in areas where I lacked. They had been consistently critical to the point of nitpicking, often comparing my shortcomings with my peers' strengths.
My educational journey began in YWCA, then a catholic school for kindergarten, and then an Anglican (called “Episcopal” in the United States) school for six years of primary studies and 5 years of secondary studies. I was consistently the shortest, slowest and scrawniest student every year. On Sundays, I attended a Methodist church with family. It was my home church till I left for the United States during my early 20s.
When I graduated from high school, I was unprepared for the world. My parents had successfully drilled into me the importance of straight 'A's in academics above all else, even engaged a private tutor for a subject that I eventually flunked in the final two years of secondary school. Other activities that my parents subjected me to were piano lessons and art classes, supposedly to give me a little appreciation for culture. Neither had ever helped me to succeed in life or find a job. What would have been more beneficial was networking skills and relationship building. Consequently, those 'cultured' activities and private tuition took up a huge portion of my time. Whatever free time I had, I tried to slack off as they were the only rest times I had. It was a habit that stayed with me to adulthood.
I turned 21 while serving in the military. It was a mandatory conscription by law for all men after turning 18. My technical background enabled me to be posted to the air force as an aircraft technician. It was the best way to serve my country without being in the battlefield. Life was good back then. Then real life happened. I didn't managed well and that led to an arrest for shoplifting. It wasn't my last.
After serving one week in prison, I went to the United States to continue my studies for a Bachelor’s. I soon discovered how unprepared I was for adult life. Used to having everything handed to me without asking, I didn't know what I didn't know, and didn't know what questions to ask. It was a painful and at times unmanageable reality check that would last for the rest of my life. I finished university with a Master’s, barely making the minimum GPA requirement to graduate. To my relief, I found a job, settled in the United States, and eventually got married. The latter led me to a Green Card and later a citizenship. During that time, my Son was born.
I developed an addiction that bloomed while in university. It impacted my career, my marriage and my family. My first bottom got me into the 12-Steps recovery. I was later arrested for the second time almost exactly 20 years after the first. It cost my family and my freedom; then 8-year-old Son lost everything, including his dad. I was separated from my family for nearly five years. During that time, I was diagnosed as autistic. It was a huge blow to any hopes of improvement in initiating relationship let alone connection. I also started taking 12-Steps recovery seriously and have been making progress since.
I lived in four states in the following order: Arizona, California, Texas, North Carolina. Living experience from best to worst: California, North Carolina, Arizona, Texas. I had as many job changes as Elizabeth Taylor had divorces, three of them occurred within the same year. It was traumatic to say the least, requiring therapy and continuing work in 12-Steps recovery. It brought me to the reality that my current job will come to an end – only a question of when. The United States is a land of opportunity, including the opportunity to lose a job.
Thus summarizes my very brief bio. If you have read this far, you must really be bored!
No comments:
Post a Comment