Life with Maryam edited 2

Part 7

My senior year was the longest year of my life, but strangely the easiest, as the only two classes that I was looking forward to all day were English and math. English because I truly enjoyed the class and knew that every class was something I knew or at least had some idea about, but despite that, I always had my panic attacks in that exact class. My teacher, Miss Zain, had absolutely no idea that I had anxiety and that sometimes I would struggle with it in her class. It's honestly a shame that there were days where I genuinely felt confident and was pretty relaxed in class, and days where I would be shaking, but despite it, I would put up my hand and pretend I was okay, even when I absolutely wasn't. I personally don't enjoy September and October; they are very gloomy months and the weather is changing, and it is just weird. One day, I came home enraged that all of our teachers had given us homework to do, so I told my parents that I was not going to do my Arabic homework, and we got in a fight over that. I just hated homework, especially when it was Arabic, but I reluctantly did it. It was an essay; I wrote it in English and then translated it into Arabic. The teacher never found out and never would. During those two months, I made friends with some of my classmates, Amanda and Nina, really awesome people who listened to their teachers, behaved well, and never got in trouble. I had one of my best friends, Rory, with me in class the whole entire year. We knew each other from the year before, but weren't exactly friends, but we became friends over time. At first, she seemed like a good friend who was quiet and shy and had her own set of friends. So, in the first few weeks of our senior year, I met hanging out with my group of friends, Gege and Sos were in it, and some other girls too that we were friends with, and then Rory was added to the bunch, and it felt right that she now was a member of us. My friend, Gege, was especially approving of her and liked her a lot from the get-go. We would talk at recess and in our group chat, mock some teachers, analyze TV shows, gossip about people in general, and fight with each other. But Rory was a little different; she wasn't like all of my other friends, and I couldn't help but wonder why she was the way she was. She wasn't crazy or anything; she wasn't on drugs, she just was a victim of childhood neglect and faults and errors from her loved ones. I loved Rory with all my heart, and I really hoped that she would open up and tell me about her struggles, but no matter how I loved her or tried talking to her, she just wouldn't listen to me. Sometimes she would, but I always felt like I was the one left to pick up the pieces after someone whose fault it was in the first place that she wasn't brought up like the rest of us. Rory is an amazing person; I know it, and I know that she just couldn't help control the ups and downs of her feelings. She has trouble trusting people and struggles with abandonment from deep wounds that her family life has caused, which is why she can sometimes be super aloof and absent-minded, and sometimes needy and emotionally draining. She wasn't just born with that. There are people responsible for the kind of damage that was done to her, and as the saying goes, 'pain comes from those closest to you,' which even in my family applies. I don't mean it to my immediate family but my extended family pretty much. After the death of Mom's mom, Grandma Sarah, Aunt Norah started to keep secrets and tell little lies, and she let her kids direct her, which hurt both Mom and Aunt Lara, and they also started to do the same. As a result, I don't share that strong of a bond with all of my cousins because I need to keep watching my mouth, and I can assure you that if Grandma Sarah were still alive, there would be no secrets in the family and life would feel normal again. Their lies started small but ended big, and the one thing that they won't lie about is death because guess what, it's bad news, but when it comes to the good news, no, they're not sharing it with us. You might think we're bad people, but trust me, we're not. We're good people that wish good things for others and love others and really think that family should come first, but not in all cases, not when secrets are being kept, we're being frozen out, and kept out of the loop, and we're the last to know about major things happening in that family. Tell me, aren't we a part of the family? Ha, I just want to know. Tonight, I had so much to talk about at Grandpa's place. I knew I should keep my mouth shut and not talk about anything personal, deep, or new. Every time that this has happened to me, I have wished that Grandma Sarah was still alive, because she wouldn't have let our family end up in a situation where her kids and grandkids tiptoed around each other, fearing their mom's fury. Mom is a sweet person; she's my queen, really, and she hates all the lying but can't do anything about it, so she just does the same thing in return. Not all families are families, and not all friends are just friends. Some have far long exceeded that and become more than family, people that we trust and tell things to that we don't tell to some of those so-called family members. Those people that we talk to so often and enjoy their company, to me, they are family. They may not be family by blood, but they're family by choice and through life, and I think that could be stronger at times. I may have hurt some of you, but the truth is I have been disappointed in you and hurt, and the only way you could know is through my words. I truly believe that I could love you with all my heart but still hate you for something you did.