Childhood and Family Background
I am the first-born daughter, raised in a small
town with my brother and sister. My father
worked in the mines in South Africa, while my
mother cared for the home and family. My
early childhood memories include playing
with kids my age and visiting my grandmother
during school holidays until the day she
passed away.
At the age of six, I lived with my aunt and
cousins.
Though
my
parents
visited
occasionally, I was a happy child. A year later,
I returned home to live with my parents and
had to change schools.
Primary School Years: Challenges and
Resilience
My time in the new school went well
academically, but I faced personal challenges.
I struggled with painful sores on my scalp.
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After cutting my hair with a razor, my mother
had to cut the sores open, which caused
excruciating pain for a week. Although no kids
teased me about it, a teacher did mock me. I
never told my mother about it and continued
with school as usual, remaining a playful child.
As the years went by, I started isolating
myself from my peers, which upset both my
friends and the adults in my life. Even my
mother began to criticize my personality.
Despite my reserved nature, I was obedient,
stayed away from bad influences, and did
everything my parents asked. My social life,
however, continued to shrink.
High School: Bullying, Isolation, and First
Love
High school was a mixture of good and bad
experiences. I was frequently bullied for my
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lazy
eye,
which
became
a
significant
insecurity. I coped by laughing everything off,
but it didn’t stop the gossip or hurtful
comments. I withdrew further from people in
my hometown, who were often the cruelest to
me.
I transferred to a new high school, where I had
my first romantic relationship. At sixteen, I
entered a relationship with a twenty-year-old
boy. I knew little about romance since my
parents had never shown affection openly,
and my mother and I only discussed school
matters. At first, I thought agreeing to his
proposal would make him leave me alone, but
it didn’t. I found myself dating him without any
real understanding of what a relationship
entailed.
Heartbreak and Emotional Abuse
Initially, the relationship seemed fine, but he
soon began cheating and lying. He dated
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multiple girls simultaneously, including me,
and emotionally manipulated me. He would
publicly insult me, control who I spent time
with, and joke about me sexually in front of his
friends. Despite his behavior, I stayed,
thinking that my love would change him.
There were moments I believed the abuse
was my fault. I thought if I had kissed him
sooner or slept with him, he wouldn’t have
treated me the way he did. My father's
treatment of my mother seemed to normalize
the emotional abuse I experienced. Like my
mother, I would keep quiet, cry silently, and
endure. Eventually, after eight months, I
ended the relationship. Surprisingly, he
accepted the breakup without resistance.
Healing and Letting Go
Breaking up with him was a relief, but I carried
anger and bitterness toward him and myself.
I hated that I allowed him to treat me that way.
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In the following school year, he admitted to
cheating on me with four different girls during
our relationship. I let go of the bitterness, but
when he pursued one of my friends, I felt a
deep disappointment I couldn’t explain.
Despite everything, we ended high school on
neutral terms. I never saw him again after final
examination.
Body Image and Insecurities
During high school, I also battled insecurities
about my weight. I gained weight, and both
my classmates and family members made
comments about it. My mother would laugh at
my thighs and tell me to reduce my portions.
Even compliments about my weight would
trigger negative emotions, a sensitivity I still
carry today.
I coped with the bullying and insecurities by
excelling in academics. My parents were
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proud of my performance, and I did well in my
final
exams,
earning
a
place
at
an
international university in the country.
University Life: Struggles with Self-Worth
and Comparison
Moving away from home and living alone for
the first time was challenging. Adapting to
university life, where I knew no one, felt
overwhelming. I became responsible for
everything, but I was grateful for my parents’
financial support. However, during my first
month, my insecurities worsened.
In university, I noticed how differently people
were treated based on appearance. The
beautiful girls attracted attention from both
men
and
overlooked.
women,
while
I
Conversations
was
often
about
relationships made me feel excluded, as I had
nothing to share. I believed my weight was the
reason for the lack of romantic interest, and I
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began eating only once a day. Despite my
efforts,
my
weight
stayed
the
same,
deepening my insecurities.
I started seeking validation from men,
mistaking their kindness for romantic interest.
When only older men pursued me, I felt even
more inadequate, thinking I wasn’t good or
pretty enough for men my age.
A New Crush and Unmet Expectations
In my second year of university, I developed
a crush on a guy my age. He was everything
I
admired—clean,
calm,
confident,
and
talented in graphic design, photography,
videography, and forex trading. I fantasized
about the kind of person he was based on his
hobbies and social media presence, believing
that being with someone like him would make
me a better person.
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When I finally got a message from him, I was
over the moon. He asked if he could call, and
I was surprised by his politeness. I thought
this
was
the
beginning
of
something
meaningful. However, it quickly became clear
that he wasn’t interested in me romantically. I
refused to see the signs and continued
pursuing him.
He eventually told me he was in a relationship,
and I knew I couldn’t go down the same path
again. I still wanted to stay in contact with him,
but it became clear that he wasn’t interested.
In an attempt to connect with him, I shared my
personal struggles, including how my father’s
emotional abuse impacted me. He listened,
offered advice, and recommended books and
channels to help me.
Looking back, I realize I caused my own
heartbreak. He never promised me anything,
and I was the one who built unrealistic
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expectations.
Still,
I’m
grateful
for
his
kindness and for inspiring me, even if it didn’t
turn out the way I had hoped.
Picking Up the Pieces
After moving on from unrequited love, I threw
myself into academics, achieving good
results despite the challenges. My friends and
support system helped me through those
moments, and I thought things were stable.
However, during the second semester of my
third year, I lost a dear friend—not through
death, but through a painful drifting apart.
Over the December holidays, we were still
close, but when we returned, things had
changed.
I think we both had a lot on our plates, and our
inability
to
communicate
widened
the
distance. She was the first person who
accepted me as I was, who loved me
unconditionally, and in her presence, I always
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felt safe. Losing her felt like a deep wound,
one that no romance or crush could match.
I’ve experienced heartache before, but this
was different. We saw each other daily in
class, yet we never fought to save our
friendship. It took months to accept that things
would never be the same.
A Challenging Final Year
Final year was brutal. My family life was in
turmoil; my father continued to treat my
mother
poorly,
both
physically
and
emotionally, and I would often receive calls
from her in tears. I was dealing with the
absence of my friend on top of everything
else. To make matters worse, a group project
dissolved unexpectedly.
Our original group of four dwindled down to
three, and then to two, as Mike decided to
leave, citing our “incompetence.” I was hurt by
his words, especially considering all the times
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we’d done the heavy lifting on assignments
together. I confronted him, explaining how
much his words stung. He apologized, and I
forgave him, but his comments lingered,
pricking at my self-esteem each day. It left me
wondering if others saw me the same way—
incapable, unwanted.
Desperately, I sought to join another group.
Each rejection was a painful reminder of
Mike’s words. Eventually, I asked my former
friend if I could join her group, hoping that
maybe working together would rekindle what
we’d
lost.
But
she
said
she
was
uncomfortable working with me. Her words
felt like a knife, and I finally accepted that our
friendship had truly ended.
Betrayal and Isolation
A week later, I found a group with Karen. My
mental health
continued
to
deteriorate,
though I kept pushing myself to carry on. I
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was often late to meetings and became a
burden to the group, yet I forced a smile each
day, hiding my pain. I confided in Karen,
trusting her with my struggles. Things
seemed manageable until, one day, Karen
suggested I leave the group due to being the
last to join. Though I defended myself, I
ultimately left out of fairness. Unexpectedly,
Karen was also moved to the new group with
me, and she was furious. I thought to myself,
why was it acceptable for her to cast me out,
but unfair when the same happened to her?
The new group was a disaster. They lacked
motivation, and my mental health continued
to spiral. Karen, who knew all my struggles,
began reporting my tardiness and absences
to our supervisor without mentioning the
reasons. I missed two days of school, a rarity
for me, and during that time, I locked myself
away, unable to function. Her constant
complaints only worsened my reputation, and
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soon, our supervisor saw me as a burden,
while Karen, who contributed little, appeared
dedicated.
Family Strain and Loss of Control
My family life was unraveling. My father’s
treatment of my mother grew more hostile,
and one day, in a burst of anger, I confronted
him. I told him he was a terrible husband and
father, and that he needed to treat my mother
with respect. His silence lasted for three
months.
Eventually,
I
apologized—not
because I was wrong, but because he was
family.
Though
he
forgave
me,
our
relationship changed.
Adding to the strain, I failed a course in my
final year, delaying my graduation. It felt like
everything was crumbling around me, and I
couldn’t escape the overwhelming weight of
disappointment and failure.
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A New Friendship and Hope
In the midst of darkness, Lizzy entered my
life. Her friendship has been a gift, a reminder
that I am not alone. My worst fear—failure—
had come true, yet I survived. Reflecting on
the entire journey, I feel immense gratitude for
Lizzy’s unwavering support.
Despite the mistakes I made along the way, I
am grateful for the growth and resilience this
experience has taught me. To those I’ve hurt
or let down, especially my family, I sincerely
apologize. I hope they can forgive me.
Even now, I look back on my fourth year in
disbelief, wondering how I endured it all.
Through the pain, loss, and betrayal, I learned
that I am an overcomer.
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Conclusion
In reflecting on my journey, I've come to
understand that each chapter, from childhood
through university, was a stepping stone,
building
resilience
and
teaching
me
invaluable lessons about love, friendship, and
self-worth. Though the path has been filled
with challenges—bullying, heartbreak, family
struggles,
and
painful
losses—each
experience
has
strengthened
me
and
deepened my understanding of myself. The
darkest moments revealed hidden strength
within me, and they helped me realize the
importance
of
surrounding
myself
with
genuine support.
I am grateful for the kindness, lessons, and
encouragement that have come my way,
especially from friends like Lizzy and my
cousin Photy, who remind me that I am not
alone. This journey was not without mistakes,
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but it has molded me into someone capable
of facing life with greater clarity and
determination.
Despite
the
heartbreaks,
betrayals, and moments of self-doubt, I have
grown and continue to grow into someone
stronger and more self-assured. Looking
forward, I carry these lessons with hope and
resilience, ready to face whatever lies ahead,
knowing I am an overcomer.
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