Childhood Thoughts and Their Impacts on Life Choices

As a child, my mind was often filled with complex and sometimes abstract thoughts that, while unique at the time, significantly influenced my life decisions and worldview. This article explores two such thoughts: my motivation to learn languages with non-Roman alphabets and my developing self-hatred, leading to a deep aversion to becoming a parent.

The Quest for Learning Foreign Languages

At the tender age of 12, I developed a fascination with learning languages that possess non-Roman alphabets. My curiosity was driven by a mix of patriotism, economic influence, and global security concerns. I considered three languages:

Russian: This was a strategic choice given the Cold War era, where Russia was perceived as a formidable adversary. I aspired to emulate the iconic spy James Bond for reasons that were both fictional and surreal. Japanese: In the 1980s, Japan was a major player in the global market, frequently cited as a threat to the American economy. My decision to study Japanese was fueled by a desire to be well-prepared for the international business landscape. Arabic: With a looming prediction of a Middle Eastern conflict (World War III), I believed that proficiency in Arabic would be valuable if I was to follow in the footsteps of a CNN translator. The belief that global conflicts would be influenced by linguistic skills was prevalent during this time.

These thoughts, while immature and perhaps overblown, reflected the global dynamics of the 1980s and my young mind's fascination with geopolitics and commerce. Fate intervened, and I eventually traveled to Japan, leading to a five-year dedication to Japanese language studies.

The Development of Self-Hatred and its Impact

At around age 9, my thoughts took a darker turn as I developed a deep, inner hatred of myself. This self-hatred was primarily rooted in my appearance and other aspects of my character. I would stand in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection for hours and write derogatory terms such as 'fat' and 'ugly.'

This intense self-loathing led to a resentment towards my parents, who I felt had handed down genes that I did not want to burden another human being with. I vividly remember questioning why my parents, who I believed to be physically attractive, did not share these same negative traits. The logic behind this was confounding, yet my feelings were real and profound.

The most significant impact of this mindset was my vow to never have children. I was unwilling to pass on my self-conceived negative traits and to avoid the responsibilities that come with being a mother. This obsessive thought was central to my life until around the age of 15.

Interestingly, as I matured into adulthood, I realized that these childhood thoughts were somewhat over-the-top. However, they had staying power and were a key factor in my reluctance to become a parent. It wasn't until the age of 24 that I began to entertain the possibility of having a child without feeling a sudden rush of guilt.

Exploring the Solar System and Nucleus

Another childhood thought that captured my imagination was my observations of the Solar System and the structure of a nucleus. At around age 7, I pondered the similarities between the structure of the Solar System and that of a nucleus, with electrons orbiting the nucleus just as planets orbit the Sun. This fascination with the underlying structures of the universe was a reflection of my early appetite for knowledge and understanding.

My curiosity extended to the practical world as well. I was particularly interested in aerodynamics, particularly through the lens of building Balsa wood airplanes. I immersed myself in the school of thought that sought to understand and replicate the principles of flight using simple materials. My friend and I spent our summer designing and testing planes with rubber band propellers, even creating a biplane model that could defy conventional expectations of scale and aerodynamics. Our experiments often pushed the boundaries of what was considered feasible, with one of our creations rising to a remarkable height before ultimately failing upon landing.