Coming to terms with my trauma

11 years. 11 years since it happened, and I still woke up with sudden panic attack and nightmares at times. But thankfully, not as much as I used to before and I am forever grateful with that. This is the post where I truly believe that I have finally come to terms with the things that had brought me so much pain and loneliness. 

    The story took place when I was in highschool. I went to a boarding school from form 1 up until form 5. As much as I had a lot of great memories and created such special bond, it paradoxically represented a personal hell. I had many traumatizing experiences that it triggers my brain to develop mental disorder. There were so many stories that I can never forget but there was this one particular one, that I, will forever remember and at times, still haunts me. Fitnah. Fitnah is a really serious thing. Sebab tu lah tuhan kata, fitnah ni, besar dosa nya. Lebih besar dari dosa membunuh. I was just 15. Living in a boarding school. I was accused of sleeping with a guy. A senior of mine. It is of course, a false accusation made by my school guard. I never, not even once had ever slept with any guy. 

    The entire ordeal began unexpectedly one day after evening prep, when a senior student sought me out with a personal request. He wanted to share his feelings, a confession I was neither prepared for nor interested in. Politely declining, I attempted to go back to my room to sleep. However, he was persistent. When I wanted to go back, he rentap my hands and asked me to stay and hear him out. Unbeknownst to us, a guard was observing from a distance and witnessed our exchange. This incident lasted no more than 15 minutes. At that young age, the sudden confrontation sent me into a state of panic, and I instinctively fled. I know I shouldn't run away when I wasn't in the wrong but being in a boarding school where even the rumors of you being in a relationship with someone would get you in trouble, scares me to the core. I had hoped the matter would end there, but I was gravely mistaken. The routine of my school life was simple: lights out by 11 PM, with the gates for aspuri and aspura locked, and night prep concluding at 10:30 PM. That night, I chose to visit a friend's room, where four of us gathered, and just hangout. Unexpectedly, at almost 12 am, my phone buzzed with a message from the guard (he had my numbers prior sebab we always order food illegally from outside and he would text me when the food arrived). He urgently summoned me downstairs at, stating that the HEP wished to see me. To be honest, my memory of the night the HEP called me is hazy at best. Overwhelmed by fear, my mind simply went blank, erasing the details of that evening. Even now, the events of that night remain elusive. The following day, I found myself in the counselor's office, marking the beginning of an investigation that would solidify my disdain for her. Despite her many questions, deep down, I know, whatever I told her, would fall on deaf ears, no matter what I shared.

    After being investigated only then I knew, the guard told the teachers and my HEP that he caught me doing s*x with my senior at night in the toilet at 1 Gamma (the toilet was the most scary and darkest toilet cause it's at the end of a very secluded place). I was 15 dudee wtf? I dont even know how people ki*s without feeling disgusted due to saliva let alone literally sleeping with a guy. Naturally, I was prepared to defend myself, armed with a solid alibi. I had been with my friends after the night prep, providing me with three witnesses to corroborate my story. When I shared this with my counselor, her response was both dismissive and mocking, "awak bayar kawan awak berapa ni untuk kawan awak mengaku konon kawan awak dgn awak?" with a smirk on her face. It was then I realized that no matter what I said, she would simply dismiss it, branding me a liar fabricating story.

I was summoned to the principal's office, where I faced a barrage of questions. The atmosphere was more akin to an interrogation, with a clear goal that I should confess to being involved with my senior.     It didn't feel like they were genuinely seeking answers; rather, it seemed they were pressuring me to admit to something I hadn't done. It was a child's word against an adult's. Naturally, they chose to believe the guard over me. My parents were called to the school as well. Have you ever been called a pelacur before? Well, I did. From my father, nonetheless. He was so mad he even asked me to get out from the house. That I bring shame to the family's name. My mother? I begged her to believe me. I was screaming, crying my hearts out asking them to believe me, on the floor, but no one did. No one did believe me. My pleas fell on deaf ears. No one even cared to hear to my side of the story.

    The ordeal didn't stop there; it intensified as the rumors spread uncontrollably. I was subjected to a barrage of derogatory names: "pelacur," "jalang," "whore," "murah," "barang free," "maruah sama level dengan sampah," among others. The isolation I felt was palpable. Walking through the hallways became a walk of humiliation, with peers taunting me with cruel nicknames. It felt like navigating a minefield of judgment, with open hurling insults. And this further developed an issue to this day. I am always scared of guys. I have a hard time confessing my feelings to any guy that I like and often times, I would just keep it to myself and question myself whether they actually like me, genuinely, or they would just look at me and use me as a mere object that they can simply use for pleasure. You see, being called a whore, pelacur etc constantly when you were a child took a toll on me. Too young to understand, I unwittingly began to believe those harsh words, and I despised myself for it. It felt as though I had become the very embodiment of what others accused me of being. Teachers, who should have been sources of support, contributed to the torment. My english teacher would even say "awak jangan jadi mcm kawan awak yang sorang tu. Baru form 3 tapi dah berani nak tidur dgn orang sana sini." in front of the class. I was actually present in the class. Some of my classmates looked at me in disgust. Powerless, I could do nothing but lower my gaze and pretend those words didn't pierce me. It hurts even more when society dooms you when you are a woman who made mistakes like this. Society would not accept this and would condemn you so hard on it. At 15, I was still navigating childhood, yet I found myself without an ally, engulfed in a sea of judgment. None of my friends want to be friends with me and even if they did, they would talk about me behind my back. I overheard their conversation while pretending to sleep, each word a knife twisting deeper into my already wounded spirit. I heard all of it. Every single one of it but there was nothing I can do to defend myself. 

    It was hell for me. I hated every single second of it. I begged my parents to stop sending me there, but they wouldn't listen. To them, I brought this upon myself for sleeping with a guy. It didnt just end there, since my reputatation is already bad enough, my teachers would put snarky comments when they see me and it didnt help when one of the teachers is my homeroom teacher so she would always bring it up during homeroom meeting. Her perli is like an occasional thing I have to hear every time. The number of times I've been accused of stealing pula? Countless. Countless. And that was another hell for me. Just because my reputation was bad so every accusation would lead to me. I have, never once, steal anyone's phone or money. At all. I have my own money and my own phone so why would I ever steal someone's belonging. One incident that stands out painfully involves a classmate confessing years later to a theft for which I had been blamed. I still remember this one girl who would come up to me when we were in form 5 and said "sorry weh sebenarnya pasal kes phone dulu, aku yang buat tapi orang tuduh kau". Hurts doesn't it? The admission was a hollow victory; the damage to my reputation was irreversible. Efforts to clear my name were futile; disbelief and skepticism met every attempt.

    Im quite close with this one junior of mine. Hes 2 years younger. Went to the same uni and according to him even after leaving high school, I learned that counselors and teachers continued to discuss my case, a ghost of my past that refused to be laid to rest. Even when I finished my high school, the counselor and teachers STILL talks about it. This relentless scrutiny and isolation led to the development of a mental disorder, pushing me to the brink of despair. Having to go through Major Depressive Disorder that soon changed to Bipolar type II was hard for me. High school felt like a battle against the world. It literally felt like it. A battle that left me contemplating the value of my own life. I had the whole year of my life in highschool feeling alone and abandon. I have nowhere to run or hide. Every day was a struggle. Every walk passing down the hallway was a nightmare. Night after night, I wept myself to sleep, overwhelmed by fear and pain, with no one to turn to for comfort or support.

    And that was the story that brought me so much pain and trauma, amongst other. 11 years. 11 years this thing took place. Despite the time that has passed, talking about it once felt like reopening a wound. Yet, I find myself at a turning point. The pain and the loneliness no longer grip me as it used to. I've reached a place of acceptance, recognizing that the past, with all its agony, cannot be altered. No amount of resentment or tears will change my experiences. I've come to understand that my lack of control over the past is acceptable. Reflecting on why these memories inflicted such deep pain, I realize that as a child, I couldn't fully comprehend the events that unfolded. Had I faced these accusations as an adult, the hurt might still be present, but it's unlikely it would have led to a mental disorder and how I function. I was too young to handle what has been thrown at me. Looking back, my parents' reaction, though seemingly excessive, was born from their inexperience. It was their first encounter with such situation too yknow? They had no idea how to react and how to handle it. Of course, I wished they would've handled it better but hey, it's their first time being a parent as well. Despite the hurtful things said, I harbor no resentment. Redha. Redha dengan ketentuan ilahi. Redha dengan ujian yang tuhan beri. A silver lining to my experiences has been the development of profound empathy. This empathy allows me to connect deeply with others, understanding their situations and feelings of loneliness. Consequently, I find it natural to listen to their problems and rants, never perceiving it as a burden. I've grown to be a place where a lot of my friends, even those who I am not closed with and a mere strangers can confide in me.

"Ain, for some reason, people would always come to you when they have problems. Aku rasa sebab kau tahu how to handle them. You make people feel safe and secure. I can tell you my biggest darkest, most shameful secret knowing that it will be in safe hands and without feeling macam I am going to be judge. And you give one hell of good advices. Aku rasa sebab tu. Sebab tu orang selesa nak cerita dekat kau. Even kau tak rapat dekat dieorang" - from a close friend

    Reflecting on it, I realize that my advice to others often mirrors the guidance I yearned for during my own struggles. It stems from a place where, the things that I told people, were the things I wished people would've told me, the things that I wish to hear when I was struggling before. Umairah used to say to me "Ain, you have so much on your plate. But you still manage to take from people's plate just so they are left with a cleaner one, despite yours dah tertumpah-tumpah dah. Tapi, I know. Thats just you. Thats just how you are. That is just who you are". And maybe, just maybe it is also the reason why I have issues saying no to people even when Im on the verge of giving up on life myself, a trait born from feeling unwanted and alone with a deep-seated habit of self-reliance and the unfamiliarity with being cared for by others. This trauma, while a source of immense pain, has undeniably sculpted me into the person I am today. It taught me invaluable lessons on navigating life, allowing me to find tranquility amidst past turmoil. I find peace in knowing that He put me through that test for a reason. My experiences have not only offered me solace but have also been instrumental in molding me into the very well-being of who I am today. In sharing this journey on here, I'm thrilled to announce a significant milestone: the reduction of my medication dosage. Means that I am getting amazingly better. Alhamdulillah so much for that. Betul lah orang kata, once you grasp the concept of redha and believe in His ways and blessing, this dunya will have nothing against you.

    So I am writing this today, to finally bid farewell to my past, to my trauma that accompanied it. Embracing my past has led me to a place of peace and reconciliation with my history. I find solace and acceptance in things that had happened. I've overcome my fear of the monster that once dwelled in the shadows, masquerading as my past. I harbor no resentment towards those who wronged and wounded me. My inner child is finally healed :)

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