Finding Strength & Purpose After Abuse! Read Bey Hassan’s Incredible Story of Overcoming Remarkable Odds

We received this touching email from one of our readers. Bey Hassan is a young lady from Yemen whose link to Nigeria is quite interesting. She was abused by her father in her early years. Escaping her realities by immersing herself in drugs, she was rescued from the path of disaster by her friend’s aunty. In the course of trying to find her way back, she decided to face her fears and go in search of her father who at that time had emigrated to Nigeria.

Battling drugs, and trying to find who she really was led her back to try to find her father… to confront her fears. Bey Hassan shares the story of how she found her father, found love and found herself. She has chosen to remain anonymous to protect her brother and her Nigerian fiance. We hope you enjoy reading her story.

Who I Am
My name is Bey Hassan* and I’m from a family of 2 children as my parents had just Abed and I. I schooled in Yemen at least for my elementary and high school although I didn’t exactly complete high school there in Yemen I completed part of it in the US at the  Suncoast Community High School, Florida.

I honestly don’t know much about my parents’ relationship; but judging by the photographs I saw from their youth and early married life they seemed just fine. I mean everyone thought they were the perfect match a French man would look at them both and giggle ‘Jolie’ that’s how great their love seemed. When I was about 10 we had a few neighbours over for dinner, some of the single women talked about how they looked up to them both and all.

The abuse started when I was about 9, my father would come home beat me up sometimes play with my breasts sometimes he even threatened to use a vibrator on me and all sorts of crazy stuff. However, it wasn’t until I was 14 he physically did have sex with me and to tell you the truth I had no idea he would go that far.

My mum never really complained. She never fought back or anything for all I know she agreed to every word regardless and she didn’t really want family matters on the public’s lips. She told me about the first time a friend of theirs noticed that she had bruises on her. She asked what had happened and my mum told her; the friend confronted my dad and it just blew out of proportion. After that she never mentioned to anyone.

On my dad’s part, he was very insecure which made him jealous and very possessive. My mum never worked and she wasn’t allowed visitors. She was like a prisoner. Anytime my mum did something he didn’t like because he knew how much I meant to her he would take it all out on me just to hurt her or if he wanted her to do something she didn’t want too he would aim at me.

Mother Went Through It Too
My mum was also being abused. She was emotionally blackmailed, she was physically abused, sexually abused and verbally abused. I have no idea why she held on for so long nobody deserves such. No human being should have someone they love so much treat them like proper s*it. My mum did love my dad so I’m guessing that’s why she held on. She believed it was gonna end right in the end. You know how you have so much hope that something negative was gonna turn out for the best? It blinded her a great deal so she couldn’t see that she deserved better.

My Father
Throughout my elementary school, my dad was awesome although he was very very strict. I wasn’t allowed to make a mistake, he would beat me silly- sometimes grievous punishments. But he still was a father he would buy me toys, clothes and stuff. He was great I have no idea where the change came from he probably was just waiting for growth. I just think he let whatever was happening with him and my mum get the best of him and I hated him for what he did to my mother and I.

Nobody to Talk To
I never told anyone about the abuse. However, my mum knew about it obviously. I was embarrassed and my mum has always taught me family is family and what happens here stays with us and anything to keep family. Now I just look back and I’m like I really was ignorant. A lot of people back home till date have no idea why I left or anything that even happened because we lived in isolation. My dad instilled fear in everyone who came around so after a while people just stopped coming around.

I believe my words can never explain how I felt as a child that was abused. First of all, I hated myself and my self esteem swam off. In my own words I was a walking corpse 80% of me believed ‘yo dude you’re gonna die soon‘. Everyday, I would look at myself and say those words. For me living was just useless my emotions were damaged my dignity gone and because obviously we weren’t Christian neither were we Muslims I didn’t even know whether to pray. In fact I was lost. Although I did pray but to whom I didn’t know. My grandma was a Christian and she had always told me that prayer was key however with ‘faith’. I lacked that faith so maybe that’s why despite the prayers nothing changed. Being abused broke me down mentally and physically because the scars were all over me it was a lot to be honest. I don’t even wish it for my enemy.

An End to The Abuse?
The abuse stopped, but not because he stopped. I left home for a while I stayed with my friend from school, Sally. It was the only way I was able to escape the daily abuse. Her house was my only escape from reality it was like I had just woken up from a nightmare.

While I was in school in Yemen, I never talked to anyone everyone was about their business and besides because my dad had stopped people from visiting and all the kids never really talked to me I was more or less the ‘freak’ weird one like most people would say. After a while I lost absolute interest in school or anything academically related.

My Friend Sally
I was about 14 when I met Sally. She had moved in with her Foster mum- who had been sent to work on her company’s project. So they were more or less foreigners. They weren’t even from Yemen; Sally was half-Jamaican, Quarter-Irish and a quarter-British. Her mum was British and Irish and her dad was Jamaican.

Certain things happened and we thought we were in love; because obviously we were young and stuff but in the long run we discovered we were deluding ourselves. Sally and I became sisters, when I hear the name Sally what comes to my head is ‘the one who healed me’.

Before I met Sally I was living in hell I know she wasn’t the one who protected me all the while but God definitely did use her to turn my life around. We served as shoulders and companions for each other and swore never to be separated. We hadn’t known each other for years before we knew we loved each other so much. It was then I realised that it doesn’t really matter who you have known the longest; what matters is who is willing to stand by you, see your hurt and put in efforts to heal you.

My Mom’s Passing Away
I do not like talking about my mum because it hurts. She committed suicide according to the neighbours and medical practitioners. She set herself ablaze by using gasoline after she found out my dad had infected her with HIV. It was too much for her to handle I’m guessing but then again it was very selfish. I felt like she didn’t care about me, my brother or what would have become of us.

I wasn’t there at home when it happened, I was out to Sally’s we rushed back home to tell her the good news about Sally’s aunt wanting her to come over to America and in getting there it was a different story she was gone, for life. Gone…never coming back gone.

After Mom Died
I was so devastated like what would a 15 year old be doing with a few months old child. My breasts were still as fragile as ever, would I feed him? After my mum passed on, I think that was my breaking point the fact that she took her own life was crazy like it wasn’t normal in Where would I live? Who would feed us? You know all these thoughts and even more ran through my head I felt so lonely. A part of me blamed myself because if I had stayed home she wouldn’t have taken her life so it was a lot for me to handle. It’s very safe to say I was an emotional wreck.

For about 2 years, I cried everyday I didn’t go a day without crying for me I felt it was my guilt eating me up because I blamed myself – I shouldn’t have left her alone. But I guess some things are inevitable and we can’t control fate no matter what.

Sally’s aunt adopted 3 of us. It was a gradual process she didn’t have any kids of her own. So on my 17th birthday she threw a little party for me in the yard and announced that she was adopting Abed and I. It was great. She had been wonderful to us all she really is a beautiful person. And like the fact that she made it clear her reason for adopting me. She told me that she did so because I was a fighter and I was the toughest female she had ever come across and how she wishes Sally’s mum had fought as hard as I did. She told me she saw greatness in me. I laughed because I mean I was the girl who cried everyday, who had no self esteem who was so timid never spoke in class and all sorts, drugs were my companion I was depressed. Where was this greatness she saw I said to myself? She said, she’s adopting Sally because she owed it to her sister to give her a great life and that the only reason why she hadn’t taken Sally all the years was because Sally’s dad was a very dangerous person and she wanted no stress.

My Foster Mom
She was nice to me to be honest provided me with so much – sometimes I even felt suffocated, I was surprised myself she took a lot of my crap; although there were times when she lashed out but it was nothing compared to the great kindness she had shown me. I remember how she fell ill when she found out I was taking drugs. She cried every time both consciously and unconsciously. That was the act that made me realise that I meant more to her than a human feeling the void of her childlessness. I never really regarded her as my ‘mother’ initially because I felt that no one could take my mum’s place by this I mean ‘love me genuinely’ but she did.

Moving to America
Moving to America was a huge deal it wasn’t easy for me at all because they were way different from me. All the kids seemed so happy, they basically had no worries. Their ideologies varied from mine. I mean I was happy they had so much freedom and all but I didn’t want that, I was looking for sanity. From all I know, I had no immigration issues because Sally’s aunt was quite well to do and she had all ready sorted out everything necessary. However, there were certain times when I would get into trouble in school because the girls were pretty mischievous and it would all boil down to the fact that I wasn’t American or British or from any of the ‘respectable’ countries, so it was tough.

When I got to America, I started school immediately because Sally’s aunt was all about education it was her favourite thing. Who could blame her? She was one of the few brain owners who attended the prestigious Harvard university. However, alongside school she wanted me to undergo counselling, therapies and family classes for a while just so I don’t hold on to all that had happened I went for medical check ups and all.

In Search of My Father
When I realised my depression was closing in on me and my drug increase was pumping in, I decided to check myself into rehab because I was on and off in school. I couldn’t concentrate because I battled with drug abuse. However, all the psychologists and therapists I went to had nothing tangible to offer me. I knew that if I didn’t do something soon I was gonna die. After my first year I decided to take 2 years off and go in search of my dad. The fear of death made me realise that I needed to fix everything. I needed answers to millions of questions. My mum consented to the plan of me going to look for my dad, although she was very skeptical initially.

Finding Dad in Nigeria
I was in Nigeria for three years, during that time, I worked for the 2 years. In the first year I didn’t work because obviously I was a foreigner I didn’t know anywhere. I used the money I got for my upkeep and stuff but when the money began to finish I knew I had to look for a job although my (adopted) mum sent me money, I still needed something to do. To find my dad I figured I’d start with some things I knew about him. I had the idea that because he was educated, a chemical engineer by profession he would probably be working in an oil firm or dredging company.

In my first year in Nigeria, Lagos to be precise it’s safe to say I was robbed 4 times I was such a dodo bird knew absolutely nothing. I visited at least 4 different oil companies each week for that whole year and nothing, no luck. The second year I got a job not based on merits or academic qualification but based on good looks – everything else was zero. I met a man who was a manager of one of the bank branches at that time. We got talking and he offered to help he gave me a job as a marketer. Luckily for me I did quite alright for someone who had no knowledge of what banking or corporate life entitled.

My third year in, I was doing so well on the job it was great but I still wasn’t happy. I wasn’t there to work I was there to find my dad.

The Face Off
I found my dad June 6th at a cocktail party organised for one of the companies executives where my fiancé worked. I was shocked, I wasn’t expecting him to be there because I mean gosh! I was walking over to the restroom to touch up on my lipstick. The moment I walked through the hallway something inside told me he was around there somewhere. I felt it as crazy as it may seem, I felt it.

I had always prayed to God to please help me find him because I felt I was going to die. When I walked further down the hall way I saw 4 men chatting – they seemed very much jovial they really were enjoying the party. I walked further down towards the bathroom and I noticed they were looking in my direction. I could tell they were marveled at my beauty. I was a few steps away from the restroom door when one of them said ‘excuse me please’ with a flirting tone. I turned around said hi then he told me his friend wanted to say ‘hi’ said okay walked up spoke to him in the process of our conversation another man walked in and lo and behold it was Mr Abelard Hassan, my father.

How I Felt
I honestly cannot describe the look on his face. It was something like I have never seen with all the hatred and resentment I had towards him I couldn’t say anything. I just walked out and went back into the party hall and told my fiancé I wanted to leave. He didn’t get it so he was reluctant. Walking hurriedly towards the car, my dad ran right after me he grabbed my hands went on his knees and began to cry! I cried too.

It was so funny how the moment I saw him cry all my anger went away. He took us home with him. He lived in a really large house and you could tell he was rich but it meant nothing to me.

I confronted him about everything, but I knew he was insecure and allowed his problems with my mum affect what he felt for me. He said he thought my mum was having an affair and that he was upset so he just wanted to hurt her in every way possible. I asked him why he did what he did to me, he said he did everything because he wanted my mum to hurt like he did when he found out she was having an affair. He told me how much he loved her we both cried.

I asked him why he didn’t tell her he had HIV but he had no reason. I told him everything we had been through; how my mum had committed suicide after he infected her with HIV. He wept even more. He said he was sorry and wished everything would change but obviously it’s all late too late.

He said he thought about us 3 everyday, all night, month and year but he didn’t know how to apologise for everything. Hearing his own side of how he felt eased my anger, in his eyes I saw remorse I saw a man who was broken, whose life had no meaning. A few weeks later he fell terribly ill. He refused to go to the hospital the day I went to see him he held my hands and he cried deeply he told me he was sorry for everything. He passed on a few days later.

Relating With Men
I had no problem relating with men to a large extent considering the fact that I had male friends – I mean colleagues from work and stuff I has no problem relating with them. However, relationship-wise I really did shut my ears to their sweet talks. I wasn’t interested in any way whatsoever. To me they were absolute liars who deserved no trust.

Before I met my fiancé, I dated about 16 men in the space of 8 months. Sometimes, I would just lash out at them for no reason and all they do is wonder like ‘damn son, this girl is sick‘. They didn’t get it at all. When I came to Nigeria my mindset was find my dad and leave.

Talk Therapy
I found that Talk Therapy helped a whole lot. {You can read more about Talk Therapy Here} Talk therapy is talking about whatever it may be that is bothering you rather than hold on to it. How did it help me? Talk therapy helped me in the sense that I realised it’s okay not to be okay. Nobody is gonna hurt with you and if you do not speak up no one’s gonna help you and know exactly what is bothering you. They know you’re bothered certainly but they ain’t gonna know what the problem is so you have to talk.

You can never run away from your problems no matter how much drug intake, your problems are always going to be there till you take up the challenge to get rid of ’em. You never have to be ashamed of anything if you feel a certain way talk let it out, don’t hold on to sadness don’t try to manage depression talk about it with someone.

Who I am Today
I would describe myself at this point in my life as a ‘living testimony of God’s awesomeness’. Everyone I come across asks “why do you refer to yourself as such? Aren’t you Muslim?” and I say to them I’m a Christian and my name is ‘Hannah’ I officially gave my life to Christ on my 17th birthday. My mum is a staunch believer.

At this point, I love myself more because I know who I am. I realised that there’s no point holding on to sad memories and that blaming yourself for things you had no control over is arrant crap! It’s silly and no one needs to bear grudges against themselves for the work of ‘fate’. Let God’s will be done. He planed it all so let him finish his work.

In terms of working with abused women, I’m doing great at least within my power. I’ve come across ladies who have been through way worse stuff than I have. It’s great knowing you can prevent people from taking their lives and doing crazy things because of depression, teaching women regardless of what happens love yourself. We are beautiful, we are mothers, we are wives. God made you and he loves you.