i was born in toronto and lived with my parents and two older bros (they're twins). we moved to windsor, on when i was 1. we stayed there 'til i was a week from 8. we moved to massachusetts for 8 months then lived in the uae for a year. after that we moved to mn, which is where i grew up, essentially. my parents and older sisters (who we didn't live with) were from somalia, so i had the typical strict immigrant family thing going on.
growing up was fairly peaceful, barring the moving around for a bit. my parents stayed together. my mom worked as a nurse so we were raised in a middle class household. my mom had to work a ton of extra hours and was underpaid for her job though, but she had to stay there until we had green cards (we got that in dec 2013) or else we'd have to leave the country. so growing up i saw my mom struggling with her job. because of that i'm a really, really frugal person.
i had a decent relationship with my bros (or so i thought), and we were practically inseparable growing up. that was good because we were bullied a whole bunch growing up, for a variety of different reasons. for me, however, it was being a fat kid and then being weird. so, i never had friends, or real ones. the bullying continued until i finished middle school. i kept getting picked on more for sticking up for other kids, so i lost faith in people and wanted to keep to myself
i did really well in school always. i did grades 3 and 4 in the same year, so i was a year ahead. in the 7th grade, i started an accelerated math program, so i could finish multivariable calculus in the 11th grade. in high school, i was the 3rd in my class of ~500, and i got a perfect act score.
i started struggling with mental health in the 8th grade. i hated going to school once it hit. i'd miss often, but most of the times i missed i got my dad to call me in sick. on the days he didn't though, i'd have to go to detention
. i tried to bring it to the attention of my parents, but they didn't believe in mental illness and told me to suck it up. i got into princeton my senior spring. for a few days i was elated, but after that i broke. my parents had to get me help. i was diagnosed with depression and social anxiety.
my parents were ashamed of me despite otherwise being a perfect kid, so i was disillusioned with living up to my family's cultural ideals. i also stopped believing in religion when i was 16 (i was muslim) after struggling with faith for 3 years.
college was a huge adjustment, and it was hard at first. school was hard for the first semester, and i was really shy and struggled to make friends. i began dating someone in my hall shortly after freshman year began, which was nice for a hot minute. then i learned that he spread rumors about me, and that was how my string of bad relationships began. i started improv right when i started college, but halfway through the year i started getting socially involved with them. they were my first friends. i milked princeton's resources to go to asia during my summers, so i had awesome times when i wasn't in school. sophomore spring i got out of my shell a bit and started partying more, and i had the typical experience of experimenting with drugs (weed, shrooms, acid). booze was my preferred drug though.
in my junior year, i started struggling with my mental health again, and i was faced with taking a medical leave of absence. i was about to do it, and even signed the paperwork, but then i decided against it because i had a feeling that i was finally gonna fit in in school (great reason, i know). i was in a psych ward during winter break (which was the worst experience of my life), but i was discharged and continue school. so i struggled through it and got shit grades, and i was right. i met jess my junior spring, and we became buds
the summer before my senior year, my brother bought me ice cream and sat me down to tell me that he hated me for most of my life. i was in shock, and i told him to get help.
i had short struggles with my mental illness from then on, but it wasn't as bad. then 2018 started and my life combusted, which i went into detail about in the past. but tl;dr: dated a rapist and eventually didn't believe the victim. probably the worst thing i ever did in my life. shortly after my ex was found responsible, i graduated from college, and my brother tried to kill me. i was in shock for the summer after (and even after that, although it wasn't as bad). i moved to texas to start my first job. started another bad relationship. hated my job. applied to medical schools (and ultimately didn't get in). i became really depressed and an alcoholic, so i had to get treatment and go home to minnesota. i'm estranged from my family because they didn't side with me on my situation with my brother
gonna get 3 months clean on the 1st. i live in a sober house and my parents don't know where i live. i'll be a us citizen on the 4th.
edit: my dad had a heart attack in jan 2018 too (on my birthday x.x). so that was the kickoff of my life combusting really. after that, i swore to myself that i'd live in minnesota again. and... well... i did it!