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The project aims at looking beyond the smiles of the next person, to see what’s really beneath, what’s really going on? How people really need help and won’t bother saying anything about it but would rather cover it up with a façade of strength, with a smile.
It’s time to look beneath the smile and lend a helping hand. People are going through real things, these are their stories.
We hope that you’d be kind enough to leave a comment. Your feedback is important to us.
Today’s story was sent in by one of our readers, who has asked to stay Anonymous.
This is her story.
The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.
That’s something I like to say a lot, ‘Hi’, and I often do this with a smile, I smile a lot because I found out that I’m much more beautiful when I smile. It’s really been a tug of war for me, deciding whether to send in my own true story, because doing this means I have to go into my past and dig up bad memories that I’ve managed to bury. Well I decided to send it in hoping it helps someone out there. Okay, enough senrenre, onto the real gist now 🙂
Back in the old days when I was child, LOL, don’t mind me o, I’m not that old. But back then when I was little, in primary school, life was good and everything was perfect at home. Me ‘n my dad were pretty close, he was a good father who would take out time from his work to come see me during my break period. We didn’t have so much financially, but I never really lacked anything, I was happy. The good life continued until I got into secondary school, then everything changed. The funny part is I can’t really remember when everything started to change; all I know is I woke up one day and everything had changed.
I noticed that I and my father weren’t that close anymore, he was so distant, so far away from me and I couldn’t even understand why. I can’t remember ever seeing my parents argue or fight when I was in primary school, but now they were fighting, almost every day. They would always argue so loud and my father who was filled with rage would sometimes beat up my mum. He even beat up me and my brother too. There was hardly any week that went by without me hearing my parents shout and scream at each other. Dad always apologized after beating us up because he knew he had inflicted both physical and emotional scars on us. But what good was that apology when we all knew in our hearts that we would still get beaten up the next week.
My home became just a house for me, I would stay in the sitting room watching TV but when I heard the sound of my father’s car, I would run into my room because I didn’t want any trouble. I couldn’t even be in the same room with him. What made everything worse was that I was taken to boarding school and that was hell for me too (story for another day). So you could say I was in double trouble, lol, there was nowhere to run to; school wasn’t safe and neither was my home. I’ve never been one to easily open up to people, so I just stayed there and died in silence. The only person I could talk to was God. I prayed to God for help but things only seemed to get worse. Things escalated from just physical abuse to both physical and verbal abuse.
Things continued like this well into my university days. I thought as he was getting older he would stop, but I was wrong. It was safe to say that I now hated my father. There really is much to say, but I can’t even find the strength or courage to put them into words, because going down memory lane just hurts like hell.
Anyways, as the years passed, I became closer to God and I began to know him more and more. God started teaching me how to truly love, but anytime I thought about my Dad, and all the pain he had caused us, his family, I just couldn’t love him. I thought, ‘how do you love someone like that?’ But the truth is, I wanted to love my father again, because I wanted to please God, and honestly I was tired of all the hurt and the pain, I wanted to let it all go. And to God be the glory, I now love my father, I don’t hate him anymore :).
This transformation didn’t happen in a day, but it happened gradually, God answered my prayers and took my pain away and he helped me love a man who had hurt me for years.
My dad is now a partly changed man, lol, he’s not totally there yet, but I can see the work of God in his life. All these years, beneath my smile, I was really suffering and I couldn’t talk to anyone about it mostly because I was scared they would just mock me and that they wouldn’t understand my pain.
• • •
Don’t just read, say a prayer.
A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?
N.B. The project goes on with Tomorrow’s ’Her Story, XXVI’ by @sisi_OPE and ‘His Story XIX’ by an Anonymous writer (4pm)
You can still send in your own true stories to firstname.lastname@example.org
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