Many Thanks To Our Partners And Together We Are Stronger: Fill & Download for Free

Thanks for the A2AI've been married to an Indian man (Punjabi) for 14 years now. We have 5 kids together.We don't find too many things too difficult anymore but there were some cultural problems at the beginning that we weren't really expecting. In retrospect, I think he may have known about them but I was pretty clueless.We dated for 5 years in secret because his family was still trying to get him to have an arranged marriage. If they knew about him dating, I guess there would have been trouble. I'm not sure what kind of trouble but I trusted him.We weren't originally going to date so long. We knew we wanted to get married right away after we accepted that we were in love with each other. (We started as good friends and lab partners.) We thought we should date for a couple years max. However, it took us 5 years to really pound out how we were going to raise future kids with different religions and cultures. We were both very religious so we had to do a lot of negotiating and soul searching.I kept asking if his parents knew about us but he couldn't tell them. Finally, I went into the kitchen and told them we were getting married, haha! They yelled at him in Punjabi (after which I vowed to learn the language!) but they calmed down after a few weeks.Right after the wedding I moved in with his parents. I wasn't expecting this and I still don't know who's idea it was but it was the best experience ever; HOWEVER, I hated everyday living there. I was the literal slave of the house. I had no pride left. I had to cook Indian food, sew and wear Indian clothing and serve the guests when they came. I even had to pack my adult brother-in-law's lunch and he never ate it!My mother-in-law was a sweetheart but she also was under the thumb of my father-in-law who was a tyrant. He wouldn't even talk to me for 2 years. (He didn't come to the wedding either, btw.)I prevented myself from total misery by trying to learn as much as possible. I am kind of an A-type personality and always want to be the boss or leader. I took this opportunity to grow in much-needed humility. Every painful day I tried to use to make myself better, stronger and smarter.The lessons I learned were invaluable to understanding my husband. I picked up the culture, language and I managed to build strong relationships with my husband's family (including my father-in-law!) I don't regret a day in their house.Now we are a mostly happy, normal couple. I've been able to travel to India 3 times and live with the locals. I've been able to see and understand things from an eastern point of view.I think the only thing we really disagree on is whether or not our daughters should be able to date when they are teens. He "sees red" when they mention a boy they may have a crush on, lol! Oh, and 4 out of 5 kids are girls. Yay! (Just kidding)Here we are! Can't find one of my husband on this device, sorry!

I am in a relationship.A relationship that had a promising start, giving me the right doses of endorphin at the right times.I bask in the new found love. I gloriously enjoy the togetherness. I feel complete. I thank my stars silently. Everything makes sense. The trivialities are meaningful.I nurture the relationship with utmost care, mindful of all my actions. I'm kind. I'm generous. I accept his sarcastic remarks as a gesture of love. I swallow the vitriolic words as a gesture of care. I work on the criticisms because I find it to be a gesture of affection. Of course, he loves me. He wants me to be better.I am surreptitiously manipulated to accepting his choices, compromising with my own. I willingly give up my dreams. Yes, that ought to be so in love. What is love if I cannot sacrifice with my choices, dreams and ambitions? I sure am in love. I still feel happy.I'm too afraid to object. I'm petrified to speaking my mind. I just dread losing him. Life would be meaningless if I don't have him. What if his threats of leaving me turn out to be true? Aghast with a shrinking feeling, I stay subjugated. Who else but I am the savior of the relationship with the anchor in my partner's control, fuelled by his whims.I become an entirely different person. Thoroughly depleting myself each day. Before I become just a mobile piece of flesh and blood, I decide to let go.When you try to be too perfect each time, it definitely means that the best choice you have is to let go.I am in a relationship.A relationship that bloomed gradually. A relationship that was never characterized by promises but an unwavering trust and faith in each other.We don't bask in the overflowing love. We live in the moments. We cherish the togetherness. We don't talk about the sun, moon and stars. But we are grateful. We meticulously segregate what is important to us and things that can be done away with.We nurture the relationship with utmost dedication and care. We are kind. We are generous. We are respectful towards each other. We say things not to please but in the best interests of each other. Of course, at times, certain things do not go down well but we are confident of each other's intent.We accept, we refuse, we decline the choices and opinions. We speak our heart and mind. We bare our souls, untimidated and unabashed.We take care of each other's dreams and ambitions. We push each other forward even though that might have temporary consequences.We also differ. We argue. We debate. We face the downsides. We are reluctant. We are adamant many a times. But we understand. We apologize. Not because everything has a chance of falling apart but we endeavor to rebuild something stronger.There are also times when everything is on the verge of falling apart. But I reminisce the journey— our battles, our victories, our failures and most importantly our survival. And deep down, we both realize that it is truly worth it. I decide to hold on. I stay right there.Amidst nowhere, we still wouldn't mind being stranded with each other, any day, any time.

When I was in my 20’s, I worked for a small pest control company. It was a family-owned business comprised of the owner (an NYC fireman and mentor to me) and his brother-in-law. We were very close and it was my first full-time job.We worked long hours, with no breaks and took pride in our work. It wasn't glamorous, but it was something built together. It fed our families, and represented us as contributing members of society.Due to our hard work and emphasis on customer service, we became extremely busy. Soon, we acquired multiple corporate accounts that subsidized our residential accounts.One such account was an auto parts manufacturing company. We serviced their offices, machine shops, and warehouses. The building location and imports that came in offered us no shortage of issues, but we always managed to handle them promptly and on our first visit.Eventually, the executives began asking me to service their homes after they noticed how well we managed their business. I always went above and beyond for my customers, and these folks were no exception.One day, while I was spraying the main office building, I walked into the VP's office, after hours, to do their regular maintenance service. To my surprise, the VP and the CFO were sitting at a desk and having a conversation. I knew them both well at this point as I had been servicing their homes for some time.I stopped when I saw them and said, “Hey, what's going on guys? Working late tonight? You want me to come back and hit the office last?”“Nah, it's cool man. We're just talking about how slow business is.”“Oh, really? That sucks man, I'm sorry to hear that.” as I'm doing my work around the perimeter of the room.“Yea, well it is what it is I guess,” the VP replied.“Well look, you guys have a solid product. I wouldn't panic just yet. I'm sure things will turn around.”, I said as I finished up the office. “Alright guys, you're all set. Have a good night.”As I turned the corner, the VP said to his CFO in the nastiest and most sarcastic tone imaginable, “You know things are bad when the fucking EXTERMINATOR is giving you advice!”They had a big laugh over that one. I paused, thought about what a tactful response would be, but decided it was better to walk away. It didn’t make sense to risk a big account over something like that, I thought. But then, as I was walking away, I heard him expound on his comment.“Bro, if I ever get to the point where I gotta work as a fucking EXTERMINATOR, fuckin’ kill me.”That was enough for me.I poked my head into his office, and in the same passive aggressive sarcastic tone he used, I smiled and said, “Yeah, well, not all of our daddies give us companies, Tee-hee.”The words slapped him clean across the face. The CFO fell silent, the grin departing his face as the awkwardness drove his gaze to the floor.“Oh, uh, hey…”, the VP stammered, “uh… I was uh, we were, umm, we were just joking around.”“Ohhhh, ok…” I nodded slowly, casting an incredulous glance between the two men.And with that, I left. Neither man said a word before I was out the door. Nobody brought it up again, and we remained in good standing with the company.Listen, I don't need to explain myself or defend how I made or make a living. I try to be humble with everything that I do. But forgive me if I tell you why I took such umbrage with what he said.I came from nothing. My mother was a horrible alcoholic who worked as a bartender, and this conflict of interest made it impossible for her to hold a job. As such, we were constantly moving. I attended seven different elementary schools and two middle schools. My mother was extremely violent when she drank. Extremely. By the time I was in 7th grade I had taken on the role of raising my younger sister, and shielding her from witnessing as many of the horrors as possible. Often, I would “trick her” into going to play together in her room when I sensed trouble. Then I would tell her I had to go outside, and I'd tell her not to open the door or come out of her room for any reason until I said ok. I would protect her from the drunks and drug addicts that used our apartments as a place to “party”, which frequently ended with myself in a physical altercation with these grown adults. And if I'm being honest, I took pleasure in knowing that these lowlifes would spend the rest of their days knowing a fifteen year old kid had handed them their ass (and sometimes teeth) because they disrespected his home. I would tell my sister the noise was us wrestling. I doubt if she believed that, but she listened. I would stay up all night on nights like this, making sure no one, including my mother, upset her. In the morning my mother would usually be passed out drunk or high, often times undressed on the floor or couch. So I would cover her up or drag her into the bedroom before my sister got up, and then I would tell my sister she was just sleeping.By the time I got my sister off to school, I was often too tired and angry to bother with school myself. So I just didn't go. To give you an idea, in 9th grade I averaged 3 absences per week. The criminal part about this was that I was a very intelligent child, but I lived in a world where school, college degrees and careers just didn't exist. I did just enough to get by, and even that I only cared enough to do because I wanted to avoid prolonging the high school experience. I thought I needed to graduate high school in order to get a job that would pay me enough for a small one bedroom apartment. The prospect of a degree or a career were completely lost on me, let alone having a home or a family.My friends at the time lived the same life as I did. In fact, our parents were drinking/drugging buddies. This shared experience gave us a bond unique to our friendship. We were each other's support system. Looking back, I think the only time we could let our guards down and be KIDS was when we were together. But being withdrawn from other cliques in our rough neighborhood made us targets for other kids, as well as some street gangs in our area. So we did what we thought was the only way to protect ourselves. We formed our own gang. In all honesty, it was more of a fraternity. But in the eyes of the actual gangs, we were just a rival gang in their territories. Anytime we went out, there was always the prospect of violence. We couldn't go out alone, we had to go everywhere in pairs or groups. I thank God none of us got killed, and none of us ever killed anyone else.This was about the time that a few of us started becoming entrenched in boxing and martial arts. What we thought initially would only help us in the streets turned out to be the door to a completely new path. Through martial arts, we learned the value of hard work, self respect and empathy. I learned that I wasn't the victim in these situations, but just a participant, because we ALL have contributing factors as to why we are who we are. I learned to not harbour hatred and anger, because it will bring nothing positive to your life.One day, social workers from the school showed up at our apartment. It was a bright sunny afternoon and my mother was bombed. They asked if they could speak to my mother alone, and I obliged. I left the apartment. I don't recall where I went or what I did. In fact, I don't recall much of anything in the weeks that followed either, for that matter. Nor do I know exactly what was said at that meeting between my mother and the Social Workers. What I do remember is that soon after that meeting, my sister was sent to live four hours away in upstate NY, with her father, and I was sent to live with my father and his fiancee. Being separated from my sister and my support system of friends was devastating. But I knew she was finally safe, and that was all that mattered.Unfortunately things didn't get much better at home for me. My father, and my now stepmother, were not prepared to have a sixteen year old kid dropped in their laps. My step mother never asked for it, and she never signed on for it. She imagined a nice quiet life with just her and my old man and then suddenly she had this man-child dumped on her. She wasn't happy about it. And she let it be known. My first night there, I woke up during the night, thirsty, and tried to sneak into the kitchen to get a drink. As I opened the refrigerator, she yelled from the next room, “What're you eating now you fat so-and-so!?”I didn't know how to react to that. My first instinct was to fight, to raise hell and stick up for myself. But I remembered my lessons in empathy. I reminded myself that I wasn't the only one going through this transition. And I bit my tongue.But this wasn't a one time occurrence. This type of treatment became the norm. A constant norm. After a few months, it became too much to bear, so I ran away. I went from place to place sleeping on the floors of my friends' bedrooms. Into my senior year, I was still sleeping on floors and was under pressure from my mother to just drop out of school and get a GED. After all, she said, that's what SHE had done.But I stuck it out, I graduated and I got a job. Got my first place at 18. I spent two years bouncing around, looking for steady work.I worked as a bouncer, did private security, built a bulkhead, did construction, tree removal, delivered auto parts… whatever I could find to earn a paycheck. Then one of my friend's that I had lived with in highschool asked me if I remembered the exterminator from the bagel store we worked at in school. I said of course. He told me the exterminator was having a hard time finding a reliable person, and suggested I give him a call. And so I did. I started working at the Pest Control company when I was only Twenty years old. It was the greatest thing I'd ever done. I got to see on a day to day basis how a real family interacts with each other, and in time I became PART of that family. My boss's daughters became like nieces to me. My boss and his brother in-law owned beautiful houses next door to one another, but came and went as if they shared one home, which just so happened to have a driveway laid through the middle of it. Half of the brother in-law's house was turned into a big beautiful apartment, which in NY could have gotten him around $2000/month at that time. He rented it to me for $900. My boss put me through school to get licensed in multiple chemical application categories under the NYS DEC, as well as my license to be a home inspector.Within two years i was making considerably more money than what exterminators generally make.The increased salary allowed me to rent a music studio with my best friend and business partner, Lou, and for us to buy all the equipment we needed to pursue our true passion, which was making music. Through music, I got to tour cities around the east coast, as well as going as far north as Buffalo and even Canada! I never in a million years thought I would visit these places, let alone get paid to perform my own music there!(A photo of the original band members outside the recording studio in Astoria, NY, where we recorded our first record. I was 24. That's me and Lou on the far right. I'm the one who looks like a douche-bag haha)Once the band was up and running, my partner and I started a charity organization called The Music Speaks Foundation, where we organized concerts featuring local bands who would come together and help raise money for someone in need in their community. The bands would get a cut of ticket sales, and the rest went to the cause. Most of what we did was geared towards children living with addiction and domestic violence, but we also worked with breast cancer fundraisers, women's support organizations and pediatric cancer fundraisers.All of this was possible because of my job as a “lowly” exterminator. I owed everything in my life, up to that point, to the job that those two fools were now laughing at.Never besmirch a man because he's making a living. Have some humility, and remember you don't know how he got where he is. No one job has more value than another, because at the end of the day, we're all just squirrels trying to find a nut.This isn't really close to the most condescending thing anyone's ever said to me, but my loyalty to the company and the family I worked for makes this example stand out in my mind.Edit: Thank you everyone for your kind words in the comments. Many of you have inquired how my sister and I are doing today, which is so incredibly thoughtful. You've all only deepened my affinity for our Quora community. I'm happy to say my sister is happily married with two darling little girls, and living in a beautiful house on Long Island. Her husband is an NYPD Detective, and is about as decent a man, and as dedicated a family man as I could have hoped for for her.I was in an accident a few years ago which forced me to take a hiatus from music and martial arts, but I'm getting stronger day by day and I'm confident I will make a full recovery and return to what I love with an even broader perspective than I had previously.Thank you, everyone, once again. Hopefully I'll see you on my next post!