Being in unexpected places
TW: talks of abuse
I thought I would sit and write something while I’m waiting for my car to get an oil change. Like where I was in my last post, I still can’t believe how quickly time rushes by now. I never could have expected that I am where I am in life and it's just interesting to think about.
Soon my car is going to be in my name instead of my mom’s and that’s one less thing she can control about my life. She makes me feel like a failure for essentially dropping out of college that she pushed me into. While I’m grateful and fortunate that she paid for that as well as the car, she has made the process horrible… mainly because she doesn’t understand that you can’t buy love. It takes time, not money. Through my whole life I’ve seen how much she works as a doctor and a single parent, but the doctor thing somehow always took precedent. She wasn’t there much and we were basically raised by babysitters. And she’s very manipulative to the point that coming back to her chaos after being in a loving relationship gave me a panic attack.
I wish I didn’t have to think about money or have to buy things. I don’t need things; I need my time. I’m sitting here waiting because a bunch of people decided that we would bulldoze the city for the car and that we would keep it that way in the name of capital. Cars keep us poor, they take away our time. They keep us from doing the things we love and being with the people we love because there is no other option. I could get by with less money if I didn’t have to pay so much for basic transportation since there are no alternatives in this country. With guaranteed health insurance, I wouldn’t have to rely on full time employment. I’m sick of the carrot being dangled just put of reach in the hopes of something better just so the rich can continue their cycle of abuse. You are supposedly only valuable for being productive, and what’s productive is not up to you but only the capital owners. Your bosses, but more so their bosses, and so on…
The best thing I can do right now is work remotely in a field that I actually enjoy since it’ll at least allow me to have some of my time to do things around the house. But the only long term solution I can see is working for myself. I’m also afraid that I will end up like everyone else, too tired and overworked to do anything about the systems that oppress us all. After all, most people in this country are just trying to survive, but to do that requires permanently stepping on the backs of the poor, domestically and globally. I need my time so I can enjoy it and so I can actually help better my community. According to my mother, I have no future ambitions, but I don’t know how to get through to her with any of this. She always tries to make me feel like I’m taking the wrong path in life, but I can’t help but see her unhappiness.
It makes sense that she is the way she is since she had to overcome sexism and “poverty” in a country going through a civil war. She did work hard to be where she is. Her parents didn’t even want her to be a doctor, so it was a serious achievement. But she also had other dreams. She told me how she wanted to really be a journalist or an interior designer. She reminisces about the days she lived in Paris and how she could walk to the Louvre, she raves about the pastries in France and how she was always well fed. My family have also been the happiest and most welcoming people when I was around them, even though I’ve only met most of them a couple of times at most. I saw my grandma for the first and last time when I was only a child. She couldn’t speak English and I couldn’t speak Arabic but she always smiled and would cook us enough food to feed a small army (as my mom would put it).
And then there’s my mom today, alone in the middle of nowhere. She has to drive to get to any other people or anything. She has virtually no friends and all three of her children are gone from her home. I know she has interests but she never has time for any of it. She has been in the process of writing a book but I haven’t even heard anything about it in years. She got back into knitting which she did since she was a kid and it’s one of the few times in recent memory that I remember her being so gleeful. She would excitedly show us what she made with a childlike smile. I have no idea if she sees that she’s pretty much miserable now or if she realizes that she could break out of it, she has the money. I suppose there are parts of her job she enjoys, mostly working with her patients who are grateful to have her. And she feels obligated to be there for them and she can’t imagine any other life.
She wonders why I don’t have the same drive as her, but it’s tough to explain that perhaps she’s the reason. She can dismiss it by saying that maybe she spoiled me, which is true to an extent, I am spoiled… but spoiled for a decent quality of life that isn’t marred as heavily by the blunt reality of capitalistic life. I’ve simply had the liberty to think about what’s important to me, to learn other peoples’ perspectives, to actually live without fear for a bit. Everyone should have the freedom to pursue their passions without fear of starvation or exploitation by corrupt and unjust systems. I do recognize how privileged I am for having so much given to me, although it’s been something that has been given to my mother as well, even though her family was not rich. Her uncles helped pay for her education in full. She never even had to work any job other than through her career as a doctor. Everyone should have that “luxury.” But it takes a village to raise a child. My mom did it through brute force with money. Though I have my basic needs met, I cannot have stability until I am separate from her. It’s tough and painful and I am going to have to get a job, but it must be done. I’ve already explained how I wish it were different, but it isn’t. Grappling with that is one of the biggest things I’m going to have to overcome.
I was robbed of the things that actually make life living, even if we had financial stability. I was trapped home after school everyday after the bus took me home. And since my brothers graduated before me and I was too old for a babysitter, I spent most days alone. I didn’t have the social skills or exposure to really have a lot of friends. And all I really got out of it was a car when I was 18. But I would happily forgo the car to live in a place where I didn’t need it. A place with family, community, and friends. A place that wouldn’t have made me depressed for what seems like most of my life.
Sometimes I wonder if she moved and did all this on purpose, but I think it’s a tragic coincidence. It’s the American Dream. It’s a mockery of what it means to really be human.
I think my car will be ready soon so I should wrap this up. It helps to get this all out even if it’s a little rough. If you’re reading, I want you to know that you are valuable and loved. Things will always get better as long as you hold onto hope and keep fighting.