I Would Rather Be Ruined Than Change: My confession
A dive into spirituality, resentment and family. The past taught me a lot but more than that it showed me who I love the most: My parents
“We would rather be ruined than changed
We would rather die in our dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And let our illusions die.” -W H AUDEN
It's 4:00am and the sun has started to rise. At 6:00am I have to get up and decide whether wrapping myself in a warm jacket and trying to start my frozen car was worth it. It is a new day and things will be better, I tell myself. I have heard saying things over and over again make you believe in them.
I don't want to go. Really. I don't want to face him. Have him look at me, and look back into his eyes and tell myself I'm not in love with him. I'm not, I swear.
Lying makes your tongue all dark Bakht, a childish part of me reminds in mum's voice. I just dream of marrying him sometimes. I dream of being in his arms while he tells me he loves me. I imagine how living and breathing the same air as him might feel like. It's not rational, it's hardly sane. This is my confession: I'm in love with my married boss and I hate myself for it. The other confession? I might take that one to the grave or I might confess right here. I don't know what I might do anymore. I don't recognize who I'm becoming; A person that hides who she is from her family.
I was watching vampire diaries and Katherine says to Elijah, ''it's not true love if they don't love you back, isn't it?''
I braid my thick and frustratingly curly hair into a knot so that it won't poke into my eyes. I choose a green turtle-neck sweater, soft soled sturdy shoes and head out of the door. It is especially chilly today, with the wind beating so hard against the windows, that you become afraid the windows would break under the weight.
When my brother was younger, we would play a game. It was back when I wasn't a widow, back when I didn't knew what love is. When my husband died, it felt like any emotion I had after him was a game of pretend. The last of my feelings ebbed away as they lowered him to the ground with my capacity to love, or so I thought.
Maybe my attachment to my boss was an attempt to make sense of my loss and find love? He was sympathetic to me and the vulnerable, affection-deprived woman I was I latched on to that attention. He offered me coffee and I offered him my heart. Though I should have known better.
When we immigrated to USA, I didn't realize my father was running away from debt. He spiraled into financial loss shortly after being betrayed by a closed friend. He had trusted his friend with money for business, but he gave it away to a man operating a fraud business. He tried his hardest to recover and give back their money, however, he only ended up borrowing more. The stress was too hard for him.
The last time I held his hand he was bony and weak. When did he get this old? I resented our relatives for a long time for making my father go through so much. I couldn't feel any inkling of belonging with them. To me, they were strangers, who made my father weaker and weaker with their lack of support. This is my second confession: I hate them all and every time they call me, I pretend to be busy.
My father's debt is mine now. I inherited it the way I inherited his worry and anxiety about things he can't control. He overthinks to the point that it leaves him ill.
I work long hours to pay them all back because he is too old to. Though I pretend otherwise, his debt is too heavy on me. Sometimes, resentment creeps in and I long to throw everything away and run away to a place where my family can't find me. Where its just me, my thoughts and a pen to write everything down.
I write to forget and to make sense of my feelings. If I write enough, maybe I'll forget my life isn't perfect. My notebook is the one place where I can lie and not become lost.
My last confession isn't something I will ever admit in front of my parents. I'm enthralled by Sufism. When I feel overwhelmed I think of dervaish dancing in moon light, around and around and around until feel calm.
I found sufism when I was young and lost. My first encounter with sufism was when I read Elif Shafak's 'The forty rules of love'. The more I learned, the more I wanted to follow it in my everyday practices. Sufis are mystics who emphasize on love and devotion to all. I love listening to Sufi music, humming to their tune makes me feel at peace. I have also read many books on this subject and have loved every part of it. My family isn't overtly religious and I feel like if they knew they would judge me. That's why I will never tell them about my curiosity relating to religion.
These secrets put a hindrance in my relationship with my family, but they also make me who I am.
However, secrets will never stop me from loving and caring for my parents. I love them more than they know. They are the reason I know what happiness is. From childhood, my father has raised me to have courage in times of fear and uncertainty. My mother showed me what compassion and sacrifice was. She helped me realize what it really means to have a family.
Mama, I hope I'm not a bad daughter. I love you.