The Sensitive Side

All my life, I've put on a "tough shell" to make my family feel as if I'm unbreakable. I loved knowing that I am the reason behind someone's smile and if I, myself, appear sensitive and dull, then how can I make someone else's day brighter? Maintaining this "tough-guy" personality, I kept my sensitivity hidden so well that I became immune to brick walls and heartbreaking situations. I forgot who I was when I was with family, always trying to reflect optimism and holding in my true feelings. The only words and actions I would express were the one's that would please them most and give them hope. It wasn't until the freshmen year of University in 2017, I realized that putting on an unshakable persona to keep my family strong was only distancing me from them.

From the very beginning, my family has always been the most valuable part of my life. My friends and family have seen me as a "social' butterfly with a bubbly personality and full-of-life spirit,but there was always a big part of me that I did not let others see. I would mask my fears and worries, reflecting the outward bravery and loudness that seemed to define me. Seeing a tear in my mother's eyes or worry on my loved one's faces were just a few of the factors I could not stand. My mentality has always been "How can my loved ones have any fear, or lose hope when they have God with them?" When unfortunate events crashed upon our joint family, I admired the way each of them cried on one other's shoulders and had my dad and uncle act as the bridge to keep us all intact. However, I could not stand seeing the rest of the family in pain and distress. My dad and my uncle needed a brave son and I was going to be that son.

Among my 13 cousins of 6 girls and 7 guys, I became the "8th son. As my girl cousins grew older and got married, I was stuck with 7 boys and soon began to act and think like them too. I avoided letting my family members know if I ever cried or for example, if I was watching a sad movie, I would hide my tears, while some of the other emotional members of my family weren't afraid of admitting that the movie touched their hearts. I feared the thought of letting others see me cry, or letting some external person or aspect affect my feelings. Whether it be me being scolded by my mom for playing in the muddy rain, or my family complimenting me for winning the UIL READY Writing trophy, I only cried tears of sadness or joy when I was all by myself. I was my daddy's strong daughter; how could I get a tear in my eye.

The years continued along as I developed a habit of running to my closet when I experienced an extremely sad or happy moment. I would close the closet doors and sit on the wooden, chipped memory box that contained all my special things. Each item in this box was extremely close to me, particularly my dozens of diaries and handwritten cards and letters I received. It was because of the priceless words on these diaries and letters that my memory box became a representation of me. Anytime I experienced a touching event, accomplished a meaningful task, or met a special person, I would come and write in one of the various diaries of mine. Hours would pass by as I continued to write and my focus remained, regardless of my claustrophobia. My family knew where to find me if I was not with them; 4 a.m. at night awakening from a dream, or needing to take a burden off my heart and express my feelings, writing and spending time looking through the meaningful items in my memory box allowed me to be myself. This closet with my memory box and each memory and gift in this box was only seen by a few of my closest friends; even today, I love going through this box when I am feeling down, or need a break from life.

It was not until high school that I realized that as much as I love spending time with people, the only time I liked being alone was when I was most vulnerable and am writing my true feelings and thoughts while sitting on my memory box. I could tell my Dad anything I wrote about and loved being able to speak my heart out to my amazing Dad who is also my best friend. But the differences in mentality and disagreements I had always kept me distant from my mom. Whether it be a difference in opinion on what color the wallpaper should be, or her trying to understand my intention and perspective, I've always felt that my mom has never agreed on anything I decided or understood any of my decisions. I would always pray that she would understand the reasons behind my actions and I wouldn't have to explain myself, but the overbearing feeling of having to prove yourself to a loved one , silenced my speech even more. My mom, sister, and cousins began to question me on my opinions and asked why I was not as expressive with them as I was with my school or outside friends. How could I ever tell them my feelings or want to speak with them when I knew they wouldn't understand.

The older I got, the more I felt myself distancing away from my mom and sister and I got closer to my dad. My dad was a gem who could read my next move before I even made it and had the innate skill to read and feel the hidden tears behind the strong, bright smile I always show. Along with my dad, my amazing friends began to understand and see the soft side of me I keep concealed. The feelings I used to express and the tears I used to shed in my closet, now had ears which would listen and shoulders the tears could land on. I could see it hurt my mom and sister when I would spend hours just talking to Sahrish Ahmed, Layan, and Razan Ghabin, AQ, Nancy,Osky, Ro, Maria, and a couple of my closest friends. My family made me feel like that they thought I had an emotionless and insensitive heart; I cried it out, but didn't let my ego break.

Then the incident came, which opened my eyes and later led me to break out of this unbreakable shell. Fall 2017, the first semester I was attending Texas A&M University, my mother was diagnosed with a brain tumor. While I was in class, I heard of the medical report results. I grabbed my stuff and ran to A&M's grass mounds where I was alone. I cried my heart out like I had never before. I could not believe that the mom I had loved unconditionally, I had never even said the simplest words to her of "I love you." For some reason, the multiple times I wanted to, I always held back because I could feel a glass layer of teardrops blur my eyesight. And now, this same mother was in a critical state. I couldn't believe that even though all my life I had been trying to be the perfect daughter who brings nothing but smiles to my parents' face, I had been the reason of my mom's unanswered questions of why her daughter couldn't open up to her? A mom's best friend is her daughter and all my life, I was only Daddy's girl. I couldn't lose her. I decided from this day on, my life's purpose would be dedicated to her.

Wiping away my tears, I entered the house as if I knew nothing. I saw my family quietly sitting on the couches and a rare sight of my dad sitting worriedly with his hands holding his head and his gaze towards the floor. I asked what had happened, receiving a shaky response of "Your mom has a brain tumor, which could be the reason she hasn't been able to properly sleep for 3 years." I replied, "What? That's ok, with God and today's technology, we have nothing to worry about." I read the reports and felt a burden rise off my shoulders when I saw the word "benign." This meant God was giving me another chance to show my mom and let her know that I am truly appreciative of every single thing she has done for me, every step of my life, regardless of our differences and distances. I sat next to my mom and told her that we were going to do everything we could to get her the proper treatment. That day, I didn't turn my face away from her when a tear slid down my cheek. I let her see that I truly cared and loved her.

I finally realized that I was wrong. I let the unbreakable image I depicted for myself become part of my ego. I learned that there is absolutely nothing wrong with being sensitive. Holding in one's feelings and only expressing happiness and laughter does not help people stay strong. In fact, it takes more courage to disclose our vulnerability and sympathetic feelings. From that day on, I have been pushing myself to be more expressive instead of implying or expecting my loved ones to understand my true feelings or intentions. Instead of just staying quiet when my mom understands me, I take the time to start explaining my actions and clear the situation. From saying a few words of "Thank you" to being able to comfortably state my opinion on less sensitive topics, I made myself seem more involved in the family discussions or issues that arose, rather than just holding in my thoughts, or providing a solution to issues. The thought I used to have of thinking it was a weakness to be emotional has evolved because now I realize how beautiful and soothing it can be to know we have people in this world who we can speak out heart out to. The feelings and burdens I used to hold in my heart do not pile up inside anymore, but are more comfortably expressed than used to.

Even though I'm still slowly evolving into being more expressive, I have not reached the point where I need to be. I am learning that it is okay if people don't agree with me, or understand me because everyone has different factors, which effect our perspective. While reflecting back on this experience and discussing with my close friends about how I realized my mistake, I have become better in being open to vulnerability. I've learned that everyone needs a little soft side in them ,otherwise, those who do not have sensitivity or sympathy in them, can never love anything or anyone, nor develop a special connection with them. I am not as reluctant in saying what I want anymore, nor worry as much as to what my mom will think because I know I can explain myself to her. To love someone & to love family means to be able to express one's true feelings and allow yourself to trust the fact that even after knowing every side of us, family will be the one to support and love us regardless.