This is a completion of the first article posted.
The way things unfolded after the first article has somewhat traumatized me. I was sent back to Saudi without any free-will. My parents had called me and told me that I was to leave the next day, whether I liked it or not. I had walked back home contemplating what I had done wrong. I broke down in the streets of Istanbul without a soul to help me understand why this decision had taken place. I called my mother and asked her for an explanation. I rushed back home thinking anything I said could help her understand that going through with this decision meant she could possibly lose me and whatever bit of trust I still had for her. Once I got back home, I begged and pleaded that she not go through with this, yet unfortunately as if I was talking into the white noise, nothing I said go through to her and her only explanation was, “because I said so”.
Why do parents believe that saying that is something good enough? Don’t they understand that we need explanations to make sense of the nonsense?
The next day, without notice to the university we headed back to Saudi. I spent my days in bed crying and questioning life. If I were to live under their roof, with such strict toxic behaviors, am I really to accept it? I had always fought for the things that meant something to me. Being dragged back made it seem like the battle was won. I hated every second of it. I have never felt more uncomfortable and unsafe than I did within the month of October. My parents had made my home feel like a prison.
I was fully depressed and I was questioned why I felt that way. My father had told me that it was time to move on and that I shouldn’t feel sad and my mother kept mentioning that she was sad because of my sadness. But how does she believe she has the right to feel sad, when she caused my sadness and knew where things were headed when she pulled me back?
I lost my appetite and was unable to socialize. Leaving my bed meant living in complete anxiety and I didn’t want to feel that. After a week or two of being back, I went over to my friends and I wanted to be back home, confined. I felt anxious the majority of the time, regardless of being in her house and not doing anything “wrong”. Since I didn’t want to feel that again, I decided that the best thing for me to do was to stay home and suffer alone than have any of my friends accompany me in that feeling.
It took my mother a month to see that I was deteriorating and losing whatever sense of purpose I had. Maybe, I could look at this in another way, but I want to call it for what it was: she got bored. She got bored of Jeddah the way she got bored of Istanbul and decided to reapply for a visa for the both of us.
Her excuse as to why I was sent back was due to my attitude which, may I add, has been the way it is since 15. I didn’t want her back. I don’t want her here with me and, yet she is. All I believe I want is distance from her. I want nothing to do with her for a month. I want to miss her and call her and tell her about my day. Since she’s here, I feel extreme suffocation and anxiety. She is not helping when she acts on her impulsive decisions and drags me with her, because news flash, life doesn’t work that way. We are always asked to think of the decisions we make and the impact they have and yet a grown woman is acting childish, demanding for things that are so far out of reach, like asking for a loving relationship yet inflicting some form of hurt.
While we were waiting for the visa response, my father had had enough and blew up and asked my mother why she had dragged me back if I was letting her know what I was doing and how I was. She stated that she disliked my response to a voice note I sent in which I mentioned that I do not like the meal she’s prepared and that I was going to finish my dinner and head home in a couple of minutes. She said, “I became crazed and didn’t think straight”. How is that okay? If you became crazed, why am I the one to have to clean up the mess? If that’s how she reacted, what makes me think that it won’t happen again?
Whilst packing my bags, I changed the tone in which I usually talk to my parents with and made it completely monotonous and low.
My father’s response was that they won’t change for me, yet I will change for them. I never understand and that since I’m a psychology major, I should be better. If I want to continue being sad, then he wouldn’t mind it from the comfort of my own room and I could starve myself for all he cared about.
Let’s take a moment and think of the lousy and hurtful things my father said. Why would I ever trust a person, who’s my blood, who wouldn’t be bothered by my suffering? It’s so mind boggling how parents do not take responsibility for the pain they cause their children, because they’re parents. YOU DO NOT GAIN A FREE PASS FOR BIRTHING ME INTO THE REAL WORLD!
Once you inflict abuse or pain in a form or way, you are directly expected to take responsibility. It’s disgusting to think you’re privileged just because you’re older.
I’m back in Turkey and I’m trying to give my parents what they want, since no matter what I do, I will continue to live under their roof. It’s so toxic to continue a life with someone that doesn’t add onto your life, they continue to take and continue to remind you that your good is never and will never be good enough.
All I have to say is, if you have the opportunity to talk to your parents about something and they’re understanding enough, do it. Talk to them and discuss the things that boil your blood and make you weak.
If your parents are compassionate enough, then thank the Lord, because some people have to live with monsters who they call their family and can’t do anything to change it. All they can do is accept their toxic behaviors in hopes that someday, they’ll leave and never look back.