WHEN WE ARE AWAY, WE GET CLOSER

Story about home, a shattered soul, and hope

I wish I had stayed there.

Where the family cohesion, that makes you feel warm.

A wife, husband, and dog, house and maybe a child or two at most.

Car, job and saving. Or so I was dreaming.

Only specific details make life happy or unhappy for people.

For more than 40 years I have been certain that these determinants are the frame of settlement that made you keep going. So, I worked hard to create that fake reality, which cost me a lot.

So many friends and relationships spirits have crossed my life in different ways. I have never stopped searching or trying to create a perfect version of myself to chase their approval.

My story began when I was a single sister between three brothers. We lived in a small house in a remote village in a country dominated by corruption and unequal opportunities for its nation. A third world country whose name is not mentioned except for wars, internal divisions, displacement and even tribal racism.

My father was a teacher from the working-class, and by virtue of a coin, he was very strict and took many orders. My mother was very simple, obeying my father in all his decisions, even the unjust ones. For example, I did not go to a mixed school because the boys would undermine my morals. I had no girlfriends, they would spoil my thinking, and I did not wear makeup until after I got married. They forced me to marry my cousin, because he was an example of manners and manhood in their eyes, despite his academic failure, all kinds of petticoats, and his bad treatment of his sisters.

By the time a person has achieved years adequate for choosing a direction, the die is cast and the moment has long since passed which determined the future. Zelda Fitzgerald

My life after motherhood was aimless and meaningless. I wake up daily to prepare meals for my husband and the children, I try hard to make it with love, and I run away from thinking about myself surrounded by sagging and fats around my waist by throwing myself into cleaning beside the rest of the household tasks. Thus, I made a perfect and happy family at least for my family and close friends, or so I convinced myself about that.

My only sanctuary was reading. I escaped from confronting my husband with his infidelities by reading Masnavi′ Rumi. I used to run away from looking in the mirror

By reading the memories of Oprah Winfrey and I lost myself from facing my misfortune with Paulo Coelho's books.

Reading was my parallel world in which I find my life as I imagine. Graceful, beautiful, educated, successful businesswoman and possibly a writer who is a host of all TV talk shows. But. There is always an inner voice that resists and does not give up. I cannot assassinate my dreams if I kill myself while I am still breathing, I must wake up I must be encouraged and say NO. But how and when.

I was crying silently and sometimes in the bathroom and I was literally screaming inside. But I was a believer, and I loved God very much, and I always prayed to him, Lord, release me. I am tired, send me a signal or change myself. Please God!

After all that, every time I forced myself to remain silent and continue ensure that no one was angry at any decision I will make, and I would not be labeled as immoral or ungrateful.

Years passed quickly while I was like this, until the marriage of my youngest daughter, after the house was completely empty. My children have their lives, and my husband remains the same and his relationships. I became a ghost moving in a silent house, no work, no hobby, or even a friend to keep my company.

Paulo Coelho says in his book Pilgrimage Compostela:

“The only way to make the right decision is to admit the wrong decision. Carefully examine the other path without fear or illness, then choose”

Hence, war was declared. I decided to scream, but out loud this time, I have nothing to lose. Even my family, my husband and my children, I will not harm anyone with any change that I will make. Each one of them has planned or dream that does not include me.

I prepared my bags and booked a ticket to India, coz I always loved their food, films, their rituals, and their mentors.

I left a message for my husband that I quote from Elizabeth Gilbert's in her novel Food Pray Love, stating:

“Those series of choices left me sad. Now I say no. Now I live by myself”

And now I live myself. Self-sustained, happy and a newspaper editor, I live with my dog, my books and my articles, and I head a feminist initiative to encourage mothers to live happily in their own way, entitled:

When we are away, we get closer.

The End