Growth
It’s been a while… since last time I wrote here. A lot has changed which is absolute understatement….
When I first wrote here in January, I was struggling with the guilt of not visiting Iran, my mom was sick. I was torn, I wanted to go because it would have made my mom happy though I couldn’t bear the setback I would have experienced by going back to a place where my epereicne and existence would be invalidated. This is not an exaggeration. My choice for the way I choose to live, how I’d like to look like (literally) and my opinions (re/ virtually anything) would be questioned, ridiculed and at time called diabolical.
I made a conscious decision about 8/9 years ago to break the cycle in which I was trained to be a certain way. It was tough to move away from what I knew, even though all along deep down (probably when I was not even a teenager) that I don’t want to live my life the way society had expected of me. But when I was younger I had little to no agency to practice or advocate for my thoughts, and when I finally left home (as in Iran) I still found myself trapped in a cycle where I wasn’t living my life aligned with what I hold true in my gut.
Took me years, lots of trial and error, mistakes made, tears shed, bonds and relationships lost to finally end up where I am today. Going back to the beginning of this post, I knew if I went back I would be a shell of myself, and would take me month to bring myself back to my new benchmark. So I decided to put myself first, and stay. This may seem cruel, selfish, or cold hearted, but I truly believe anyone who has experienced some form of trauma and gone through painful process of re-parenting themselves would disagree.
I did keep in touch with my mom, over the phone. We talked almost every week. She was in and out of hospital for a few months until she passed on June 30th 2024. This broke me down, a few days before this, I purchased tickets to go back for a visit. The moment I bought the tickets, I was absolutely overwhelmed with a sense of anxiety of what will happen when I am back in that house, how my siblings will treat me, plus facing my abuser whom still had the support of my entire family. Not even an hour after getting the tickets, I had an anxiety attack, tears were coming down my face uncontrollably. I became like a child pleading with an adult begging for being listened to, for protection, and safety. While experiencing all of that, I realized this is PTSD response. I immediately canceled my trip, and my body was washed with a sense relief, and being back in safety. This all happened on Thursday, and I received the news of my mom passing three days later, on Sunday 6 in the morning.
This news shattered my heart, it’s hard to put in words what went through my heart and head. When I called my brother who had texted me the news, he was angry. He yelled at me how many I told you to come for a visit, now she is dead. Are you happy? I was so shocked with he said, and he hang up on me. It may be good for reference to know my brother is 12 years older than me. I was left with nothing … no family to grieve the death of my mom with.
Grief is a very lonely process, and it was even lonelier for me, being on this side of the world, youngest member of my family, and somehow blamed for I don’t know what. But I forgave him, I knew he is in pain, he is upset and he had to let out his frustration. I stayed quiet and cried and grieved on this side of the world, in my house, with my partner, and my animals.
It’s now been more than 4 months since that day. and I am still grieving, and I am still missing my mom’s voice. My appetite for life goes up and down. Grief and sadness hit me so unexpectedly, and sometime out of blue, it catches me off-guard from time to time. I start sobbing while I am riding my bike, while I am driving to the gym, while I am just being ….
you almost get used to it, the pain, the void in your chest. The very first few weeks, I felt very lonely, like I couldn’t share my grief with no one. I felt like a kid in playground, and suddenly looking around trying to find mom and dad, and not only she can find them but that no one else is around. I slowly and painfully worked through this, by biking, talking to my partner, friends, therapist, climbing or just simply cry until my eyes were dry of very last bit of tears. I am still working through it by finding peace, calm and acceptance through tragedy.
I found myself forgiving my mom for all of her short comings, and instead celebrate her legacy for who she was. And no, I don’t think it’s a little too late. I firmly believe that my matenal wounds could never fully heal, because I was let down time and time over. I had dreams of my mom over the past few months, and in every single of them I felt invisible in her suffering. And when I said goodbye to her w/o she even seeing me there in our living room, next to my other siblings, I knew that I could have not done more by being there or saying anything else. I left home w/o no one noticing my absence. This oddly enough brought me peace, and I could let go of the past.
Although, I am still feel angry about things in the past, I can give myself space for feeling all the feelings, validate them, and know that two things can be true at the same time. I can acknowledge and admire my mom for her resilience, and strength and be angry with her for treating us kids differently. I can admit that my mom lived a very honest life and was very generous, while having double-standard when it came to her daughters and sons. She was the product of her upbringing and how she was raised, yet it doesn’t diminish her lack of responsibility and accountability as a parent.
