The Stigma of my life: It was when i was in form three that my sister who was and still married to a businessman brought me to united state. I was fifteen years old then. The things that informed my elder sister bringing me into her matrimonial home in united state were mainly three;to help her look after the young ones; continue my college education and act as the keeper in their mini supermarket near our house.
My sister is a nurse and my brother-in-law is an international business mogul, I lacked nothing. He often brought good dresses and shoes from Italy where he frequented for business activities. My brother-in-law was very strict with me in spite of his generous disposition towards me in gifts, dresses, shoes and jewelry. He even found time to visit me in school whenever I and others had cause to stay a little longer than the normal closing time.
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One day while i was in form four and my sister had gone to night duty as a nurse, my in-law told me that he liked me and would want to make love with me since i was no longer a baby. I politely reminded him that he was my sister‘s husband and i didn’t know about such a thing. He merely told me that he understood my attitude and that I should not tell anyone since he was merely teasing me. His generosity towards me increased. I didn’t see the need reporting the issue to my sister. I feared she would not believe and could go ahead to suspect me seducing her husband. I heard something like that happened to a girl who was staying with her sister in a nearby street before my arrival in United State.
Almost a year after his first approach when my sister had gone home to visit our parents for about a week, he forced me into making love to him. He continued few more times to force me to do it with him until i became pregnant. He was more vocal in saying, that the pregnancy belonged to my boyfriend who had actually showned interest in marrying me. He encouraged me to quickly marry my Boyfriend and he generously help him and myself to speedily get through the wedding preparations and ceremony.
I know within myself that my first son doesn’t belong to my present husband and that he is physically different from my other children, boys and girls that are naturally my husband’s children. Many years have passed and nobody will believe my story so I have had to live with this stigma, and may continue like that for the rest of my life.
The stigma of my life: This was the start of my outrageous and antisocial year of healthy egoism. The word ‘healthy’ or ‘reasonable’ here is a real help, thanks to which people around me didn’t immediately recognize me as a breaker of social laws. Many are sure that first you must get to know the hard times up close and personal, and only then, if you still have enough health and strength, can you live for yourself.
Well, I considered otherwise.
A voice in the wilderness
At first I was scared. I had no idea what to do, only a vague surety that it was for the better. It seemed as though I was going on a round-the-world trip on an inflatable boat. I didn’t know if I could withstand the tidal waves of ‘musts’ or someone else’s expectations. Becoming a pariah with the ‘egoist’ tag stuck to my forehead wasn’t in my plans, but I understood it was my only way to freedom.
To everyone around me, I became unthinkably impudent, because I stopped playing the game where you are forbidden to argue your right to live your own life. I stopped saying sorry for my own plans and wishes. I stopped making excuses. I stopped feeling guilty for wishing to be happy, calm, and the master of my own time.
From whines to wins First of all, The stigma of my life I decided to stop the flow of complaints, tears, gloomy monologues, and hateful speeches into my ears. I love my family and friends, I value my colleagues and respect my elders, but this doesn’t mean I have to make their long and sad confessions a part of my life. I took down the ’24-hour energy donor’ sign from my door, and it became an act of civil disobedience. ‘You don’t want to listen to someone’s personal life details? You’re not interested in yet another swine boyfriend of your friend? How dare you!’
I was barely breathing from terror when I prevented, softly but firmly, all the attempts at telling me another tearful story with the words, ‘I think this is unpleasant for both you and me – why don’t you tell me about…’ I thought that I would be accused of heartlessness. However, I was not. In fact, my eagerness to listen to good news was a signal to start talking about it. And, more importantly, it freed me from the bad habit of complaining. By refusing to hear bad things, I didn’t care to tell them myself.
Yes, I’m saying ‘no’ to you
The next step was the hardest. I had to teach myself this unethical and rude word – ‘no.’ Previously, any vaguely plaintive request would have made me help however I could, because I was too shy and afraid to hurt someone’s feelings to refuse. And I felt guilty destroying the image I’d created for myself. But when I said my first serious ‘no,’ it was over. My friends were so shocked you’d think I’d eaten a live rabbit in front of them.
I dreamed of indulging my own heart’s desires, but in reality I just worked for others with no payback. I substituted, I helped, I babysat for my lazy friends while they relaxed in the spa. It is so easy to transform into a modern-day slave like this, and so I gave a firm ‘no’ to such a brilliant career opportunity