The curse and blessing of starting over:

Is starting over a curse or a blessing?

I am not new to the concept of starting over, it has been a regular presence in my life. Not always welcomed but always a beneficial experience one way or another, especially in the long run.

My journey with this frenemy started at the age of 3 months. When I was flown from the place of my birth Yemen to a whole new continent, to a country – a town I grew up calling home. I loved growing up there, I enjoyed school and had so many friends. I don’t have many conscious memories of living there but one thing is for sure that small town in Oklahoma, USA was the only home I knew. 

Suddenly uprooted at 8 years old to be taken back to Yemen, the polar opposite of where I used to be. New language, lifestyle, and a whole different set of rules. It’s true that children learn languages more easily, but having to learn a language I barely spoke was not easy along with all the shifts happening simultaneously. Being put in a school where everything was completely opposite of what I knew. Although it’s confusing for a child to change everything I knew and believed in, I was able to adapt though I never felt included.

We moved to another country three years later. The UAE is still an Arab country so the transition shouldn’t have been too hard, right? Starting secondary or middle school where I needed to re-learn how to speak and write in English after missing out the primary school vocabulary. the first year there I was in a school with an Indian syllabus and the year after I was transferred to a British school which was a different syllabus. I still loved the school and would make friends but then I left and had to start making new friends all over again. I still had the energy to enjoy school for the most part. 

Of course it didn’t end there, we went through the same process again in two years, this time we were off to Malaysia! At first, I grew tired of making new friends and adjusting to different programs, which made me become quiet, apprehensive, and somewhat annoying.. a real brat to be honest. But the people around me made me feel welcomed and for the first time I wasn’t the only person out of place we were all from different backgrounds, it felt like I belonged. That’s when I realized that for the first time in a while I shown how real friendship is. I was hopeful that this is the place I  can finally call home. But alas, I had to start all over back in the Middle East in a different country in just a couple of years.

I was bitter, Bahrain was the opposite of Malaysia. I hated it and couldn’t wait to leave this place. From waking up to a majestic mountainside view to a dusty window in the middle of a desert, I was devastated. What made it worse was school, the place that was always a solace for me became the source of my pain, being bullied not only from students but from teachers too, with no friends and always feeling completely alone. The second year I took my A-levels in an institute where I met two girls we bonded over our sense of not fitting which made us the perfect fit. But that is when it started to sink in, consistently moving made me different and people don’t like different. I felt like I would never fit in and could never truly belong.

After I was done with school, my only option was to go to a University in Yemen to study what I loved. The cultural shock, the amount of judgement I received from the community just extinguished my final will. So rather than holding on to the parts that made me Lamees, I hid her and gave in. The curated version of me had a few calm years, made friends, got married and had a job. 

But no matter how long you try to push your true self down, you’ll have to pop up again. I couldn’t just accept not being me, so people left, I got a divorce. But I stayed in Yemen thinking this is where I’ll always be, I was able to survive there fairly well by not being me.

The universe had another plan for me, when the war arose, I left to the closest place, which was Saudi Arabia, I probably would’ve enjoyed it there, if I was able to assimilate and accept a life not meant for me, but the real me was bubbling up into the surface and I was fully aware that I couldn’t stay for long and will be leaving soon. 

My not-so-welcomed friend became my saviour, I welcomed it with open arms and took the chance went it first arose, and within a few years here I am starting over in Canada. I had to start from scratch, work in retail, volunteered at an adult day program, work as a personal support worker (PSW) and a practitioner’s assistant. I learned so much about the healthcare system from various angles.

Finally this time I decided to start over, it was my choice to leave all what I thought were the many reasons that stopped me from being me, but guess who was the main culprit? Turns out it was ME! What if she not a good person and I have been controlling her for that reason? What if I don’t like who I am? Or worse what if others don’t like who I am? So many thoughts running wild in my head. What validated this for me was that every time I showed a piece of myself, I lost people who I thought were my ride and die.

Starting over has always been a blessing even if it seems like a curse sometimes (well, by sometimes, I mean a lot). This mentor of mine taught me how to accept me with love and grace, to love all of me the good, bad, ugly, pretty, petty, kind, all those parts of me are authentically me in any situation I am, as a result, I began to fully shine through. In doing so, I found people who accept me as I am. Loved ones who have showed me no matter what happens they are always by my side, they don’t merely accept me but rejoice my growth, who call me out when I start going into that cozy dark comfort zone. My journey is far from over, and this time I’m welcoming new beginnings with open arms, because everything in my life happens for me, not to me.