The truth is, I've always been different E-Book

Fatma Agva

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 145

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Do you know why you are here? Do you love yourself? Or are you always just waiting for love to come from the outside world? These and many other questions are answered in this book. It is not just about theory; the author also uses vivid examples from her childhood and her own life to show how she has implemented these steps for herself and was able to heal her inner child. If you want to learn to live independently of others, to give and be unconditional love, then this book is for you! Find your mission in this life and fulfill it, then you will soon reap the rewards of your efforts and find inner peace.

Leseprobe

Foreword

Hello dear reader,

It's nice that we've met here. I have waited a long time for this special moment. It is a great pleasure for me to take you with me on my journey. You will take a lot from me on this exciting, rocky path and you will also learn a lot from me. I am not your guide, I am only showing you the direction of your emotional journey. In this book, you will learn how to free yourself from the beliefs and behavioral patterns you have been taught in order to get closer to your soul. On this journey, we will find answers together that are waiting to be asked.

1

"An investment in traveling is an investment in yourself."

Matthew Karsten

As a child, our house was on a hill and we had to walk down every day to get to school. Every morning I walked to school with the neighbor's child. The girl took long strides and always ran ahead of me. All my efforts to overtake her failed. Although she walked with relative ease, I couldn't keep up with her. It was simply her long legs that put a spanner in the works. As I couldn't reconcile this with my ego, I set myself the goal of overtaking this girl every morning.

Full of energy, I dared to take on this challenge anew every day. Panting and drenched in sweat, I watched her from afar as she strolled along in her blonde plait. The sight made me furious and annoyed at the same time. How could she manage to walk to school so casually and without any effort? For weeks I had only one thought in my head: "How can I slow this girl down?". Over time, I discovered small alleyways and streets in the hope of getting down faster. However, the attempt to catch up with her by taking the shortcuts failed. After many unsuccessful efforts, I gave up and went after her hard.

Why am I telling you this story? We humans constantly tend to compare ourselves to others. As we do this, we overlook our own values and allow our inner critic to belittle us. We should always be aware of one thing: There is no greater friend or enemy than ourselves.

Compare the situation with a fish and a monkey. If we expect the fish to climb just as well as the monkey, we will be disappointed.

Because that is not what the fish is made for. Nor can we expect the monkey to survive in the water.

I didn't realize it at the time because I had too many experiences of failure like that. To be honest, it took me forty years of my life to understand this, but more on that later.

One hot summer morning, my mother and her neighbors decided to take the colorful oriental carpets from their houses to a large fountain to wash them. As an inquisitive five-year-old girl, I was always watching what was going on in the village. The thought of splashing and playing in the water gave me great pleasure. After a short preparation, we set off and hurried towards the fountain. In my childlike euphoria, I ran after the adults, daydreaming, while observing the world of animals and plants around me. A dazzling butterfly fluttered from one flower to the next and adorned nature with its breathtaking splendor. A green grasshopper landed on my finger and flew straight on. Some large, red wood ants crossed the dry earth with their prey. Every blade of grass, every flower and every animal mated incessantly. All the animals and plants were interconnected and interdependent. They had their living and development space. There was no war in nature, only harmonious cooperation.

The children giggled and pushed each other back and forth. My presence was of no importance to them. I felt no affiliation with them and yet I was instinctively hurt not to be a part of the group. Even today, I ask myself this important question: "Was it my experience that made me a lone wolf, or was it my tendency towards loneliness that drove this experience?"

We finally arrived and laid our dirty rugs next to the historic fountain, which had served as a water source for many centuries. The well had two small basins that looked like rectangles. There were many fields and meadows nearby. This was an important resting place for all thirsty creatures tired of the sun.

After a moment's consideration, my mother excluded me from the carpet-washing activity, judging the temperature of the water to be too cold for my childish body. Out of sheer disappointment and horror, I began to sob. It was a miserable and wretched state that I couldn't hide. The women looked down at me in shock and anger. They had probably not expected such a violent reaction. They gave me a grumpy look and went back to work. Some of the children present, who had also been excluded from the activity, looked for another way to occupy themselves. Saddened and offended, I lay down on the uneven ground and looked at the hard-working, conscientious women at work.

The children found distraction in other activities and seemed quite content. They didn't notice my presence. Everyone had a community and everyone enjoyed it. A few hours passed before all the women had washed out their rugs.

You could see the excitement of the successful task on their beaming faces. Their colorful, flowery bloomers were soaked to the knee, which didn't seem to bother them. With my head hanging down and in a bad mood, I followed them indecisively. On the way home, I devised a plan to drag one of our rugs to the fountain unnoticed.

When I got home, my mother went to our stable to check on the animals. I took my chance, grabbed the little rug in the hallway and made my way to the well, gleefully and amused.

The longed-for moment had arrived. I placed the small rug in the well and jumped into the water with both legs. I got wet down to my knickers. My eyes shone with happiness and I hummed one song after another. Yes, that was my pleasure and that was my bliss. I forgot about the little carpet and enjoyed the cold, refreshing spring water on my skin. I was the storm raging alive in the water. I floated dreamily back and forth until I heard a loud voice that startled me. With a horrified and frightened look, I noticed a young man wearing a military suit. This person, who later turned out to be my cousin, asked me to get out of the water. I defiantly refused his call. Surely he had no right to do so.

After several requests, he gave up, grabbed my arms and pulled me out of the water. I looked at him angrily and bit his hand. He then tightened his grip and his voice became shriller. As I couldn't gauge his further reaction, I gave in in frustration. He carried me on his shoulders along the stony path to our village. On my cousin's shoulders, I saw an abandoned donkey in the distance and many bramble hedges behind the rocks. My mouth watered at the sight of the black fruit. Suddenly I noticed my mother approaching us from behind the bushes. She looked at me with a worried expression and stretched out her arms to reach for me. The fear of being scolded by my mother rose in me, but she seemed rather caring. After a brief exchange with my cousin, she took me by the hand and hurried home, tense and frantic. I felt restricted in my freedom as my thirst for adventure had not been fully quenched. On the way home, I threatened to pee in my mother's pants as punishment. She looked at me with amusement and smirked to herself. Apparently she didn't take my threat seriously.

Her grin turned into a loud laugh that she could no longer hold in. At the sight of her face, I felt an unstoppable, raging energy spreading through me. I felt offended and misunderstood.

As I could no longer stand this state of affairs, I peed my pants defiantly and angrily. My mother looked at me in horror and bewilderment and didn't say another word to me. That was the first time I had ever had to put up with my stubbornness.

Even as a child, freedom played a central role in my development. I had a world of my own that no one was allowed to enter without my consent. My personal progress made sense when I was able to pursue my curiosity without external influences. My search for my hidden core was instinctively the only task I pursued.

Have you, dear reader, ever asked yourself about your true core? Or, as the author Michael Mary says: Are you an individual or rather a social myth? How much are we dependent on our society and focused on how we appear to it?

It would all be much easier if our need to belong were not overpowering. But the need for social acceptance was already great for our ancestors. Who can pursue their creative impulses undisturbed and ignore the ideas and expectations of society? Can individuals interact harmoniously with society or does individuality demand sacrifices, as the philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer said?

2

"Arm by the pouch, sick at heart."

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Teachers' Day used to be celebrated in our village in Turkey. Even today, the teacher has an irreplaceable status in people's hearts. Preparations for this special occasion were made a few days in advance. Most people lived in poverty, but they did their best to serve delicious food for the teachers.

The teachers' satisfaction was crucial for them. Our family was one of the poorest in the village and so we didn't have many opportunities to prepare a delicious meal for the teachers. At that time, my father was also away from home and had to work in a nearby town for several months to support us. My mother looked around the kitchen in despair. The only thing she found were large grains of wheat, which she put in the pot to cook. Disappointed, I watched her and went out to distract myself. On the way, I saw a classmate proudly and happily talking about how she had prepared many delicacies with her mother. I bowed my head in shame and swallowed my bitter grief. After this frustrating experience, I didn't dare to walk any further and returned home feeling hurt.

The next morning, our mother put the boiled, coarse wheat grains in a bag and gave us a kiss on the cheek to comfort us.

With every step we took as we approached the school, we felt the miserable pain of poverty. Our hearts sang one lament after another. Our feet felt like iron bars, making it difficult for us to walk. The soul sought escape, but duty called us. We arrived with heavy hearts and opened the classroom. With bowed heads, we stepped inside. We glanced at the food the others had placed on the tables. The sight hit me right in the heart. Many Kurdish delicacies were being served: There was everything from grape leaf stuffing to lamb. I placed our grains of wheat behind a pot in the hope that they would remain undiscovered. The room was crowded with students who were curiously waiting for the teachers who would enter the classroom at any moment.

After a few minutes, they all came happily to be pampered. The pupils suddenly stood up and greeted the teachersrespectfully. Years later, I realized that it was not respect that guided the children's actions, but fear. The teachers looked around at the delicacies and savored the aroma that had unfolded in the room. The walls were covered with pictures of Atatürk. A poster with the seasons was stuck next to the blackboard. Inwardly, I prayed that this miserable moment would come to an end. I tucked myself away on the last bench and watched from there as the teachers enjoyed the food. After this special ceremony, which happened once a year, we were finally allowed to go home. The students took their empty pots and other containers with them. I searched anxiously and shyly for my grains of wheat. There they were, untouched and unopened. I quickly grabbed the bag and ran out the door.

I felt an enormous impulse to run away and never return. I simply ran away, ignoring the children's puzzled looks. The village seemed much more deserted than usual. Here and there you could hear chickens clucking and donkeys with theirI-ahsjoined in the singing. The sweltering heat seemed to swallow up all living things. In the distance, I saw a shepherd sitting under a tree. His lambs and sheep followed him and also enjoyed the shade of the tree to recover from the heat. The end of the village was in sight, but I didn't stop. With every step I took, I noticed the lump in my throat loosening.

At some point, I reached a level where the earth turned white beneath my feet. Drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, I stopped and looked up at the sky, which was glowing blue. I saw large rocks above me that looked like waves. I climbed up the rocks and leaned against one. In this moment of emptiness, I felt the fullness of loneliness in all my limbs. At the same time, however, I noticed the flowing power of freedom.

If I were to ask you, dear reader, how would you describe the difference between loneliness and freedom?

The moment of clarification had come. Now I could give free rein to this unbearable pain in my soul. I cried incessantly. Nature seemed understanding and very calming. While I was wiping the tears from my face, I noticed ants crawling on my feet underneath me. I took this gesture as a comfort and a hug. Suddenly I remembered my grains of wheat, which I was still holding tightly in my right hand. I happily opened the bag and spread the contents on the ground. At the sight of the ants, I realized my own hunger and ate a few grains of wheat. These animals radiated a fascination. They seemed very peaceful and harmonious among themselves. To all appearances, they were not fighting each other, but working together.

3

"This world was not for me; it was for a bunch of brazen beggars brazen beggars, more pedantic, more scrappy, more unscrupulous, greedy. This world was built for them. For those who hold the hands of the mighty of earth and heaven who know how to flatter. They are like hungry dogs that wag their tails in front of a butcher's shop wagging their tails to get a piece of meat!"

Sâdık Hidâyet

Just before sunrise every day, I quietly slipped out of the house to go to the toilet in the open air.

The other siblings were still fast asleep and in the land of dreams. As the circumstances at the time didn't allow us to use the toilet, we had no choice but to look for a place outside. It was a cold, foggy autumn day and I could barely make out the path. Only a few stars shimmered faintly in the sky. I slowly felt my way forward to find a good spot. The clucking of the chickens in the village grew louder and louder. Suddenly I was startled when I heard the neighbor's child's voice. I froze, not knowing what was coming. The neighbor's child approached me and spoke very softly and kindly, which calmed me down. "Hey Fatma!" she started talking. "Nice of you to be up so early. I can really use you today!" I didn't know what to expect, but the feeling of being needed was good for my self-esteem.

Finally, I said to her: "I'd be happy to help you. What exactly is it about?"

"That's wonderful!" the girl said happily and continued talking. "My grandma is coming at lunchtime today and she's bringing visitors. As my parents are going into town, I don't have anyone to help me with the housework. Together we can do it quickly and you can watch TV with us afterwards!"

As we didn't have a TV at the time, it was an attractive offer that I couldn't refuse.

I went to her house straight after breakfast. The entrance was covered with colorful oriental carpets and the smell of roasted chestnuts filled my nose.

Emine came towards me and scrutinized me with her curious X-ray eyes until she finally greeted me in a friendly manner and handed me the cleaning cloth she was already holding in her hand.