To Love A Curse

When I stepped into St. Cecilia’s Catholic Girls High, I was merely 12 years old. I remember it like it was yesterday: the wide, classroom buildings, beautiful gardens, and the numerous students moving in a strictly organized manner. I was filled with fear and hope, believing this was my chance to start over. Elementary school had been nothing but an utter nightmare. I had endured the kind of bullying that no one should wish on even their worst enemy, and so I prayed and believed that High school would be different. I had always felt invisible at home, inferior to my younger brother, despite a whopping 3-year gap between us. I was always saddled with the house chores while he, being a boy, would easily get away with misbehaviors that I knew would have earned me a good beating. On top of all that, my parents were extremely overprotective, thus limiting my freedom of movement which in turn affected my relationship with my other classmates, who organized hang-outs among themselves. All in all, my childhood felt like a cage and I wanted nothing more than to escape. “Are you sure you packed everything?” Mum asked, jolting me from my thoughts. “Yes, Mum,” I replied, fighting the urge not to roll my eyes. “Your sandals? Your beddings? The extra hangars I told you to pack?” “Sweetheart, she said yes already!” My father cut in sharply. “You still treat her as if she’s a baby.” Mum sighed softly, adjusting the creases on my dress with a look of worry on her face. “I just want you to be alright.” A bell rang in the distance and a tall, neatly dressed, older-looking girl approached us, a sheet of paper bearing my name pinned to her chest, and a warm smile spread across her face. “You must be Dina, the new student,” she said, her voice gentle. “Yes, ma,” I answered quickly, lowering my eyes. “Ma?” she laughed softly. “Please no, I'm Senior Martha and I will be your caregiver for the year.” She replied, still maintaining her smile. “I have been assigned to guide you through your first year. Whatever you may need, make sure you come to me first, okay?” “ Yes, Senior Martha.” I nodded my head almost immediately. Dad cleared his throat, “It’s getting late, we should get going. Dina, behave yourself. Do not bring shame to this family.” I bowed my head in response. “Yes, Dad.” Mum hugged me so tightly I thought she would never let go. “Always remember to be strong, let your caregiver know if you need anything,” she whispered into my ear. As my parents disappeared from view, it didn't surprise me that I didn’t shed a single tear. In that moment, all I felt was relief. Senior Martha turned to me and said, “Follow me, or do you want me to help carry your box?” “I can carry it,” I responded almost immediately. “Independent. Good. You'll fare well here.” She asserted, and to me, that was my confirmation that everything was going to be alright. That night, as I unpacked my things and lay in my new hard bed waiting for sleep to take over, I whispered a prayer into the now dark room. Maybe this really is the beginning of a beautiful journey.