I would say family over everything but that would be untrue. Fights breaking out all the time, Mom threatening to leave everyday, Dad keeping secrets and lies beyond his grasp and a brother who I thought I’d have a good relationship with but, unfortunately never did for the last 12 years. No contact, no support from him in the same house no asking, ”hi sis how you doing?”
Being without love or support from my parents was hard for me. Growing up in a Muslim household in a Muslim community where I had to live up through the expectations of my parents was difficult and because I’m a girl, it was that much harder. For my brother, however, it was the complete opposite. He is expected to be the heir of the household someday after my father, but after years passed, my brother drifted away from my parents little by little. I remember major fights would happen between my father and brother things breaking, physical altercations, my mom holding my brother and my dad back from each other, and I was always in the middle crying.
Their constant fighting stressed me out to the point where I had to worry about panic attacks and seizures. My mom saw my mental state and quickly started to calm me down doing my usual breathing techniques. It worked surprisingly. My brother and dad saw what had happened to me and stopped fighting. Then after sometime, my brother left and decided to stay over his friends place for a while and dad just stood quiet most days (except when arguments were going on of course).
With my mother, that took a different turn and since my brother wasn’t here I had to take on the responsibility for the household. I had to be the son and daughter all in one. I had to be the crazy glue to put everything in place again after another fight broke out with my parents, it was exhausting at times but you get used to the numb feeling of sadness and depression. I always hid behind a wall: the wall of depression. I never expressed it or came face to face with it. I always hid behind it for the last twenty two years of my life. But after a causal conversation with a coworker of mine, he asked me, “I always see you around never smiling, you always have a depressed look are you ok?” I answered, “oh no I’m not depressed I’m just tired because I have to take care of my family all the time.”
After that little encounter, I was on my way home and sitting there thinking about what my coworker said. I started tearing up and after that, I realized maybe my coworker was right. I am depressed and I’ve been depressed for last twenty two years. I needed help. After getting home, my parents had another fight over the same topics: property, money, or even siblings who they never speak to anymore. It was ridiculous, but I knew the more I got in the middle, the more I started to resent them, and live in my own world at home.
I started smoking to ease my anxiety, but that wasn’t much help either, after months and months of fighting my brother who had left told my parents he had gotten an apartment and is leaving permanently I was distraught because I knew if my brother left, I would be the one dealing with everything here by myself more on my plate, after my brother leaving, things had gotten worse than before. My parents and brother would argue non stop, my brother would do selfish things to hurt my parents, but since he’s far away my parents would say the same excuse, “he’s not with us anymore, he’s our son we still love him regardless of what he does.”
That took a turn in my head because if I were to do something small that never pleased my parents, I’d be the bad daughter, the daughter who would apparently bring dishonor to the family even though when my mom would cry herself to sleep because of my brother, I’d wipe her tears and say “everything will be okay, youre a warrior,” but I guess that wasn’t enough, because my parents would always put my brother on pedestal on everything did or said.
After many encounters, I decided that to better myself and my mental health, I have to remove myself from the life my parents expected me to live, and live my own life. I’ve lived up to the expectations of a Muslim girl for so long. The girl who couldn’t even wear clothes that showed the littlest bit of skin…who couldn’t drink or get tattoos or can’t stay past 8:00 p.m. with friends. I had to get straight A’s in school or I’d be a failure in life, I would have to become a doctor, lawyer, or engineer because being a writer wouldn’t get me anywhere they would say, but my brother, being a boy and having “the right genitals in between his legs” could do whatever he wanted when he wanted with whomever he wanted.
I lived up my parents side of their dream for so long I couldn’t get the chance to experience my own desires and dreams until now. The reputation, double standards, the repressed sexuality that runs through the Islam community has many people, especially kids, put down in shame because they want to be on their own person and not the person their parents want them to be. After so many times of trying to be the daughter my parents wanted, I gave up and started to live for myself and not for anybody else. There is a saying I always tell myself when I’m in the predicament of being let down: that is, “I pay my own bills, I make myself look, feel, do better, I wipe my own tears and make myself laugh and at the end I’ll do whatever right for me”, that’s the quote I started to live by after many times, trying to fix my broken home , but that’s impossible with my family. Though, I’m alright with that, because as long as I have myself at the end of the day, and I realize the importance of prioritizing my own journey in life, all the rainy days I had to deal with with eventually lead to the sunlight I’ve always knew I deserved.