Different dimensions of reality
Back when I was unemployed and couldn't find a job, I was fighting my mental health every second of the day. I was living with my parents which is totally normal in our culture. My weight dropped from 65 to 47 kilos. My parents were on the brink of a divorce which didn't happen because my mom had nowhere to go if she left my dad's house. Their 24/7 fights took a toll on me and it was an extremely tense time and I constantly felt as if there was no air in the atmosphere to breathe. Depression finally left me disheveled and weak. I stopped eating.
My parents were discussing if it was better to wed me off. And out of nowhere my dad said "but what do we present to them? This disheveled creature? This is why she can't get married." I didn't want to get married. But the blame shifting was unexpected.
Since the beginning, my parents had sent me to a privileged missionary school, was surrounded by well groomed girls from posh and liberal families. I hence grew up identifying with liberal beliefs, and always assumed my parents did too.
There are these little hints softly emerging now in the corners of my memories, like my mom disapproving of her sister's dress in a picture, telling me "we don't wear this in this house", when a 6 year old me had pointed to the dress in the picture and told her I loved it.
Then in my adolescence, being s.l.u.t shamed by my mother for wearing cap sleeves because they were too short, or for wanting to go out shopping / cafe hopping more than once a month (or two months). I again assumed it's because we're not rich and it's my mother's way of discouraging me from spending money on food and clothes.
It took me 27 years of my life to realise my parents are actually extremely crazy. And that it's the norm. And I couldn't breathe. But there was nowhere to go.
I finally was able to apply for academia and work, and left the country, the biggest miracle of my life.
But the placement is temporary.
Living on my own in a different culture was like stepping into another dimension of reality, in which I felt everything was possible. I could breathe again. I lived on my own terms. I would sometimes see native people walk down the street walking their dogs or doing their morning run and I CANNOT explain to you how much I would want to stop them and tell them YOU ARE SO LUCKY, I HOPE YOU NEVER FORGET HOW LUCKY YOU ARE TO BE ABLE TO BREATHE FREELY. It was all so pleasant to see people smile and to about their day. When they would cross paths with me, I would think that they could never even imagine the cage of reality people like me have experienced. To have the freedom to just walk your dog around the neighbourhood without being s.l.u.t shamed is such a privilege.
I thought that I am now a part of this new reality and I am free to make my own decisions. I felt powerful and independent.
And now it's getting close to the time I have to go home. It's still months away but I already feel that I cannot breathe. I'm 32 now. And I still feel helpless because that's how the culture/society is built there. No matter how independent a woman is, she is never truly free. It's extremely unsafe for her to live on her own. In fact it is unlivable.
I hope I can survive one more time at my parents house so that I have the energy and mental health to return with a full time job.
I just want to be free.
My parents were discussing if it was better to wed me off. And out of nowhere my dad said "but what do we present to them? This disheveled creature? This is why she can't get married." I didn't want to get married. But the blame shifting was unexpected.
Since the beginning, my parents had sent me to a privileged missionary school, was surrounded by well groomed girls from posh and liberal families. I hence grew up identifying with liberal beliefs, and always assumed my parents did too.
There are these little hints softly emerging now in the corners of my memories, like my mom disapproving of her sister's dress in a picture, telling me "we don't wear this in this house", when a 6 year old me had pointed to the dress in the picture and told her I loved it.
Then in my adolescence, being s.l.u.t shamed by my mother for wearing cap sleeves because they were too short, or for wanting to go out shopping / cafe hopping more than once a month (or two months). I again assumed it's because we're not rich and it's my mother's way of discouraging me from spending money on food and clothes.
It took me 27 years of my life to realise my parents are actually extremely crazy. And that it's the norm. And I couldn't breathe. But there was nowhere to go.
I finally was able to apply for academia and work, and left the country, the biggest miracle of my life.
But the placement is temporary.
Living on my own in a different culture was like stepping into another dimension of reality, in which I felt everything was possible. I could breathe again. I lived on my own terms. I would sometimes see native people walk down the street walking their dogs or doing their morning run and I CANNOT explain to you how much I would want to stop them and tell them YOU ARE SO LUCKY, I HOPE YOU NEVER FORGET HOW LUCKY YOU ARE TO BE ABLE TO BREATHE FREELY. It was all so pleasant to see people smile and to about their day. When they would cross paths with me, I would think that they could never even imagine the cage of reality people like me have experienced. To have the freedom to just walk your dog around the neighbourhood without being s.l.u.t shamed is such a privilege.
I thought that I am now a part of this new reality and I am free to make my own decisions. I felt powerful and independent.
And now it's getting close to the time I have to go home. It's still months away but I already feel that I cannot breathe. I'm 32 now. And I still feel helpless because that's how the culture/society is built there. No matter how independent a woman is, she is never truly free. It's extremely unsafe for her to live on her own. In fact it is unlivable.
I hope I can survive one more time at my parents house so that I have the energy and mental health to return with a full time job.
I just want to be free.
31-35, F
