So I’m pretty sure my parents (inadvertently) sabotaged my future. Let me explain.
Some time ago in my very late-20s, I was passively engaged in a conversation with my parents. Eventually the conversation came around to remittances back to the home country. They expressed their appreciation for my occasional yet meaningful financial support. At one point my mother commented that I’m the only one of her children that doesn’t lie or make false promises… I’m a person of action, not just talk. She favorably compared me to my dad and other ancestors.
While complimenting me on my humility, financial prudence, consistency and trustworthiness, she said something like – and I paraphrase here, “You don’t get into trouble with women like your brothers, maybe God made you like this so you can be there for your parents”.
There was a lot of context around that casual conversation. Essentially they alluded to my lack of “sweet tongue” (romancing skills) and social skills being a blessing for THEM ☹️ All because my older brothers almost always allowed women (girlfriends, wives) to prevent them from executing their family obligations.
I didn’t think much of it, since at the time I was still optimistic about magically finding my lifelong African female partner, making my parents happy, and achieving some sense of “normal adult development” – AKA being a husband, dad, and Head of Household. Clearly my aspirations lean towards the mundane… I value Stability and Predictability.
However, in retrospect, I believe I was set up to fail from Day 1, from the very day I could read and write. Maybe not intentionally (or highly unlikely), but my parents definitely dropped the ball with my Normal Person Socialization skills. From my early teens and up, not only did they NOT allow me to learn “heterosexual male” skills and develop normally, they ACTIVELY controlled (or shut down) my attempts at socializing with other boys and of course ANY girls!
In one harrowing incident, my mother discovered a “love letter” that teenage me wrote to this one classmate on whom I had a crush. Unbeknownst to me, my mother took the letter from under my bed and brought it to school one day. She took it to my school principal, they located the girl, caused a scene, and proceeded to harass the poor girl… who had NO IDEA about ANY of this!
The girl NEVER spoke to me again, and I was the butt of jokes for the rest of the school term. It was probably the most shameful and emotionally traumatic event of my teenage schoolyears. Only “God” knows what kind of damage that did to my subconscious when it came to interacting with the opposite sex.
Oh, and get this. When I was about 16, merely a year before I was to be sent off the USA, my parents lied to me about where babies come from. They said something to the effect of, “We pray really hard, and God makes mommy’s tummy grow, just like he did with the Virgin Mary”.
I wish I was fucking kidding about ANY of this.
There were at least two more controlling/over-protection incidents, but I’ll leave things here for now.
I’m in mental anguish right now, so cannot write more about how my parents lied to me so much about this subject, and how I had to learn on my own – the hard way, stumbling and forever failing. That said, when I’m feeling less shitty, I’ll come back to edit and embellish this journal entry.
I suspect that these fucked-up incidents contributed heavily to my 1st ever attempt to end my life… on the train tracks behind our street.
In any case, the end-result of this lifetime of over-protection, control, and misinformation… is the person whose blog you’re currently reading: a formerly-joyous, now socially isolated, lonely, and very depressed shell of a middle-aged negro male. A disfluent, anxious person with extremely low self-esteem, socially awkward (even pre-COVID), forever being rejected by other humans, and constantly fantasizing about going to sleep and never waking up (cuz I’m still too chickenshit to “man up” and eat a bullet like American NRA Jesus intended).
Don’t get me wrong: I love my parents. My mother passed away from brain cancer despite everything I did to take save her. My blind elderly dad is going strong, though he never remarried (he has a caretaker). I don’t hate him or anything like that, nor do I hate my late mother… but I do resent their shitty religion-based overprotective moves, misinformation, and lies.
More to the point, I’m really angry at my own brain for being the way it is.
Largely because of my parents, I have severe trust issues. This has “tainted” just about every relationship I’ve tried, whatever the flavor… even if I’m ultimately right about people lying to me, “always anticipating being shit on” is not necessarily healthy (sometimes ignorance is bliss). I’ve cut out toxic and untrustworthy people – including my siblings – from my personal life. At this point I have no community and literally no one in my “genetic tribe” to whom I can safely vent about this deeply personal shit.
So I journal.
Despite how I sound sometimes, I AM trying to get better. Trying to salvage what’s left of a clearly misbegotten solo existence. It’s just that this particular topic hurts too much to write about. However, at my recent therapy session, my amazing counselor gave me some “push” to write, so I thought I’d “strike while the iron is hot”.
I have to stop here and go self-medicate into oblivion. More on this topic in future entries.
Thanks for reading.