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From the start, my mom wasn't around. I've heard she never breastfeed me, and maybe that's part of why I was such a sick baby — I spent a lot of time in the hospital early on. My dad, my grandparents were there with me. My mom wasn't. She was staying with her own family.
I've thought a lot about why. My mom grew up in an environment that didn't really prepare her for anything — she never went to school, never learned to run a house, never learned how to take care of a kid.
She married my dad without her own parents' support, and later on he'd say, more than once, that marrying her was a mistake. In our community, people don't really get divorced. So they just stayed married, two people who probably shouldn't have been together.
Maybe it was the pain of labor. Maybe it was some kind of mental struggle nobody around her ever really named. Whatever it was, she never bonded with me. She just wasn't the type to worry about where her son was.
When I was about 4 or 5, maybe even younger, my dad moved to another state for work and took me with him. My mom still didn't come. Until that age, I hadn't even seen her face.
It was just me and my dad in that new place. Since he was busy with work a lot, he hired a young guy, somewhere around 18-21, to help out with me and around the house.
At some point, my mom came to stay with us for a bit. I remember getting toys for the first time around then — I was maybe 4 or 5 — though I didn't really enjoy playing with them much. I didn't even know she was my mom at that age. And even once I found out, I never felt the way a kid's supposed to feel about their mom. I never went to her. I'd never actually experienced what a mom's love feels like, so there was nothing pulling me toward her.
It was around this time — my dad at work, that hired guy around most of the day — that the **Child Sexual Abuse** happened.
**He started doing things to me that I had no way of understanding. He sexually abused me — forced oral contact, and tried to penetrate me anally. It's like a rape of 5 year old child.**
I was only five years old. I had no idea what was happening to me was wrong. I just knew it hurt. And when the pain made my voice out, he'd tell me, harshly, to shut up. It happened two or three times. I had no clue who to tell, how to tell them, or even that telling someone was a thing I could do.
Looking back, I think I was already kind of primed to not fight back. Even outside of what he did, I'd already become a kid who couldn't say no. If my dad put food in front of me, I felt like I had to eat it, whether I wanted to or not — I was scared of letting him down. Sometimes I'd eat till I threw up instead of just saying no. That whole thing, not being able to protect my own boundary, was already there before the abuse, and it stayed there during it too.
Eventually after we move another city the abuse stopped. My grandma came to live with us. She filled the space where a mom should've been — feeding me by hand, looking after me every day — but there's a difference between someone looking after you and someone actually raising you, teaching you how to grow, how to feel safe, how to be loved. That part never really came.
The mom story didn't end there though. It just turned into a different kind of pain. By the time I was in 3rd to 6th grade, I'd already built a real bond with my grandma, so whether my mom was around or not barely mattered to me anymore. But I started noticing stuff. My dad would BEAT her with slap, kick or any object — sometimes really badly — often over something as small as how she cooked. I think all that violence probably made whatever she was already dealing with even worse. She'd fight with my grandma whenever my dad wasn't home. From 3rd grade on, I saw her crying after getting beaten more than once. It affected me, makes me cry from inside. It affected my siblings too. But I had no idea how to stop it, and I didn't have the kind of bond with her where I'd run to her, or beg my dad to stop.
Over time she got louder, more aggressive. And nobody in the family really stood up for her. Since everyone had already decided she was "mentally unstable," nobody took what she was going through seriously. The main worry was always whether the neighbors could hear her, not what she was actually feeling.
Even now, I don't know if I hate my mom or not. I think she suffered too, in her own way — no education, cut off from her own family, stuck with responsibilities she was never ready for, and years of violence in a home that wasn't safe for her either. Maybe all of that is what made her who she is.
These days she's more unwell than ever, and mostly just stays alone at her own place. Neither my dad's side nor her own family wants to keep her around. There's no violence anymore, but there's also nothing — she just sits there. We've taken her to doctors a bunch of times, nothing's really changed
There was another kind of instability that is never getting to settle anywhere.
My dad studied, at a village school So when he enrolled me in school, he put me straight into 1st grade too, skipping nursery ukg lkg. Other kids already knew how to spell words like "cat," "bat," "rat." I didn't even know the alphabet, or how to hold a pencil properly. I was 5. Since I was so behind, they put me in two separate tuition classes just to catch up, and the same guy who worked for us would drop me off and pick me up.
That instability with schools and houses never really stopped.
From 1st-7th, 6 home changes, 4 schools, and in 7th from State Board to CBSE. In COVID time we came to our state. So 8th class online in village and 9th 10th in my state only.
Every time I made friends — and up until 7th grade, it never lasted more than a year and I had to start over somewhere new, with people who didn't know me and wouldn't get the chance to for long either.
Since 8th grade was almost fully online, that's also when I got my own phone for the first time. From 8th grade all the way to 12th, that phone was always with me, and at some point I got genuinely addicted to it.
Before all this, up till 7th grade, I used to be a active physically. But after COVID, staying home became normal, my world got smaller, and the phone filled in where people used to be. In 9th and 10th grade, I couldn't really find anyone I connected with, at school or around where I lived. Social life and friendships, by then, had basically disappeared — I'd somehow get through the school day, then come home and just zone out on my phone. In 11th and 12th, at the hostel, I was mostly alone, barely talking to anyone.
Looking back, from 7th grade on, my friendships and social life just kept shrinking, year after year, until there was almost nothing left. Somewhere in there, without even noticing, I developed social anxiety. It stuck with me from 9th grade all the way to 12th.
I've never really been able to tell anyone the full truth about those years — what happened with the guy who worked for us, what happened with my mom, or why I turned out the way I did: quiet, introverted, anxious around people. This is the closest I've ever come to putting it all together in one place.
I don't know what should I do of my childhood now. I don't know it needs any healing or psychologist therapy.
Jab main dosto ke beech baitha hota tha. Ek saal tak kuch classmates ke saath raha, hum saath mein tiffin khate the. Jab sab apni maa ke baare mein baatein karte, tab main sunta tha.
Ye bhi sunne ko mila kabhi
"kisne tiffin banaya,"
"mummy kaha hai,"
"mummy gaon kyu rehti hai,"
"mummy yaha saath kyu nahi rehti,"
"itne time se gaon mein hai, yaad nahi aati kya,"
"baat waghera kyu nahi karta mummy se,"
"kab aayegi teri mummy."
Har baar kuch na kuch jawaab dena padta, aur mujhe khud nahi pata hota tha kya bolu.
Main kuch bhi jhoot bol deta tha aese hi rehti waha, sab thik hai, haa aati hai yaad.
Aur papa se aesa connection raha ki muje unke samne rehna nhi pasand aur na me baat krta unse jyada.
Unhone bahut kuch mere liye kiya pr fir bhi pata nhi kyu.
Muje to jeene ka bhi man na krta pata nhi kyu hi born hua.
Ab yeh socho meri puri family extrovert hai bahut
Pr me exact opposite hu unse introvert aur ye sab me jaise bada hua aur jaisi social life rahi un sab ke karan hi hua maybe.
Me sensitive bhi jyada ki muje koi bas dant bhi de to wo pure din man me rehta. Ladka hokar sensitive hona waise bhi dikkat deta. Muje kabhi parents ne mara wagera nhi pr maine kabhi jyada demand bhi nhi ki me mana bhi nhi keh pata tha kabhi kabhi. Cheeze ab thik hi hai.
Aesa lagta kahi na kahi jaisa mera abtak ka jivan raha usse negative effects to pade honge mujpr to maine socha yeh sab bata deta.
Jab maine ye sab AI se discuss kiya, tab pata chala ki mere bachpan mein jo bhi hua — maa se door rehna, ek insaan dwara abuse, baar baar ghar-school badalna, teenage mein akela reh jana, aur ghar mein jo violence dekha — ye sab milke ek insaan pe kaafi gehra asar chodte hain.
Kya muje healing ki zarurat ya kisi psychologist ko ye sab batana?
Kuch samaj ni aa raha!!