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109 pages

English

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The sentence for being gay and Arab is death–even when the punishment is self-inflicted. Living a closeted life in a Middle-Eastern culture is brutal–and potentially deadly. Add to the mix mental illness and your odds of survival drop to near zero. How I Lost My Mind and Found Myself is the true story of how one man lived to tell the tale.Gay Arab, David Rabadi, had been taught from a very young age that there are no genies and no gay Arabs. But while David might accept the fact that genies might not exist, he knew from a young age there was at least one gay Arab and it was, in fact, him.The fear of losing the love and respect of his family kept David in the closet for more than twenty years, but living with undiagnosed mental illness kept him a prisoner in his own head for what seemed an eternity. How I Lost My Mind and Found Myself is a touching, sometimes funny story of David’s struggles and eventual triumph in overcoming not one but two stigmas still judged, misjudged, and misunderstood in today’s society.Told with poignant honesty, David shares his inspirational journey from a fresh perspective and gives the reader a rare view of what it means to be living as an openly gay Arab and coping with mental illness.David Rabadi is the first Jordanian to come out publicly in Yonkers.

Informations

Publié par	Austin Macauley Publishers
Date de parution	31 août 2020
Nombre de lectures	1
EAN13	9781649790774
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

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Extrait

How I Lost My Mind and Found Myself
David Rabadi
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-04-25
How I Lost My Mind and Found Myself About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgment Part 1 Young David Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Part 2 Denying Who I Am Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Part 3 A Friend Called Bipolar Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Part 4 Eddie and Me Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Part 5 Living with Bipolar Disorder Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Part 6 Coming to Terms with Who I Am Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Epilogue
About the Author

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David Rabadi was born and raised in Yonkers, New York. Of Jordanian descent, David came from a family of first-generation immigrants who hardly knew how to speak English. David knew from a very early age that America was the place of opportunity, and if he worked hard enough, any dream he had could materialize. David vigorously pursued education and overcame a sizable language barrier during a time when resources were limited in the public-school system. Evidence of David’s tremendous work ethic is clear in his mastery of the English language. David continued his pursuit of language and expression throughout college and graduated with a B.A. in theater and mass communications from Lehman College. David parlayed his degree into a position as a journalist for the online publication, Splash Worldwide , where he conducts Q-and-As with people in fashion and entertainment. Self-expression and self-compassion are the focus of David’s message, but, staying true to his own self in his writing, be prepared for lovely discussions filled with flare, a zest for life, and no-holds-barred honesty. He uses his platform for a cause: the proliferation of compassion, understanding, self-acceptance, and self-love.
Dedication
I dedicate this book to all my nieces and nephews; may the journey of life lead to all your dreams and goals being fulfilled. You have brought so much joy, inspiration, and love into my life. I will always be here for you!
Copyright Information ©
David Rabadi (2020)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Austin Macauley is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity. In this spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however, the story, the experiences, and the words are the author’s alone.
Ordering Information:
Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data
Rabadi, David
How I Lost My Mind and Found Myself
ISBN 9781641824460 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781641824477 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781649790774 (ePub e-book)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020905448
www.austinmacauley.com/us
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
40 Wall Street, 28 th Floor
New York, NY 10005
USA
mail-usa@austinmacauley.com
+1 (646) 5125767
Acknowledgment
Rana, thank you for being an example of courage and an amazing sister! John, I am forever grateful for all your support. Kusay and Zeid, I have struggled, but your protection has kept me safe. Linda, thank you for always being an outlet for me to express myself. Jane, Nancy, Gada, Suhair, and Miska, thank you for all your love and support. Mom and Dad, thank you for everything!

Alone
You see me in my flesh
As I hide my soul
To say you know me
You are out of touch
Alone
No one to tell
No one came to help
Keeping it to myself
I grew to ignore
Living not existing in this world
Alone
I discovered how to uncover
The fear that kept me hovered
From who I can be
Now I was left with a choice
Live to be myself or die as someone else
Alone
I chose to live and be myself
As I stand alone in a crowd of strangers
With familiar faces living as someone else
By:
David Rabadi
Part 1 Young David

“If you tell anybody, I will kill you.”
I was four years old when those words were spoken to me. At age four, my life had been threatened, my emotions seared to numbness, and my feelings robbed from ever feeling safe. Life went on as I grew, living dead-awake.
***
Every family has its secrets. Along with those secrets, every family has a secret keeper— that one person everybody else trusts to hold close all those bits of their lives that must be kept in the dark.
In my family, that was me.
Irony of ironies, I had what felt like the biggest secret of all, but I couldn’t share it. Somehow, though, perhaps because others sensed an air of secrecy around me, I found myself collecting and keeping everyone else’s dirty little secrets. Some were silly—cheating on a test, having a crush on a classmate—and some came close to rivaling mine…but not quite.
I was born to immigrant parents. My mother and father, along with my three older siblings, came from Jordan, seeking a better life with more opportunities. Until they got their citizenship, they were labeled aliens. And one winter morning, in mid-January, two proud alien parents walked out of St. John’s Riverside Hospital in Yonkers with their all-American newborn baby boy.
That was me—David!
Little did any of them know that I would become not only the secret keeper, but also the black sheep of the family (or maybe I should say the rainbow sheep… Spoilers!).
For as long as I can remember, I have always felt misplaced. As a child, a teenager, and an adult, I never quite fit in. Whether at home, in school, or at work, the feeling of not being like everyone else took over my whole existence. I felt a separation from everyone and everything and, as a result, was uncomfortable with who I was and unable to express myself.
Why didn’t I fit in? Well, that would take the better part of three decades for me to figure out.
The secret keeper. Keeper of my own secrets. A pair of skills I mastered early. As a child raised in a Jordanian family, I was expected to push down my feelings and suppress my thoughts. No one from my Middle Eastern family or culture knew who I really was. I never opened up to any of them about my feelings of being different or my eventual shifts in mood. And through it all, I gradually built up a fantasy of who I wanted to become and what I wanted to be.

Chapter 1
Some of my earliest memories growing up as a kid in Yonkers involved listening to music. Songs would pump through my childhood home, and I would get lost in a world where I felt loved, free, and appreciated. My cousin, Suhair, who used to babysit me when I was young, introduced me to much of that music.
I remember long hours watching Suhair belly-dance to Arabic music. I also remember getting up and belly-dancing just like her; she thought it was so cute, the way I mimicked her.
As I grew older, I would lock myself in the bedroom or bathroom, blast Arabic music, and just dance. I loved the feeling I got from it. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I was also releasing pent-up anxiety. Music was my escape.
You see, I lived in a two-bedroom apartment with four siblings, so there wasn’t much individual space. I had to learn to share all I had. Since I was the fourth out of five kids, I also had to settle for less, because my older siblings wanted (and got) more, and I wasn’t quite the baby of the family. It was very rare that I got to express what I wanted to do or have. But when my older siblings were in school, I did have the T.V. to myself.
My first memory of T.V. was Wonder Woman . She was powerful and sexy, and in charge—everything an Arab woman was not allowed to be. Here I was, a four-year-old boy drawn to her every action. I wanted to be her and would reenact what I saw her do in each episode. I really liked her costume too—that starred red, blue, and gold suit of hers, and it just so happened that my older sister, Rana, had a swimsuit with stars on it…
As soon as an episode would end, I’d rush into the bedroom all us kids shared and go through Rana’s drawer. I’d toss all her clothes aside until I got my hands on her swimsuit, quickly pulling it on over my clothes. Then, I’d grab a blanket and wear that as a cape.
While my mom was in the kitchen, cooking, and my little brother was asleep, I’d run around the house, jumping on the beds, lassoing imaginary bad guys. I was Wonder Woman.
I wasn’t drawn to any other superheroes like Batman, Superman, or Spiderman. I only liked Wonder Woman, and I wanted to be like her but without wanting to be a woman. As you might have guessed, I also didn’t like playing with G.I. Joes or cars.
And yes, thank you for asking—I did love to play with dolls!
I was introduced to them by my third cousin, Linda, who lived next door from us. I couldn’t wait for Linda (one year younger than me) to knock on our door and ask me to play. We would cross into her apartment and run to her room where she kept all types of dolls.
As it turned out, I liked playing with their hair and changing their clothes more than Linda did, and, as we got older, she would get bored playing with me and cross the hall to pla