I hate living at home. Every other person I run into asks, "So aren't you glad to be out of the terrible East Coast weather, and back home? Eh? Happy to be home???" No, you idiots, I'm not.
I learned that Dad has problems with the clothes I wear. I dress like a brazen hussie, I am cheapening myself by the way I choose to dress, and my presence irritates him when I wear "such clothing". I wear t-shirts. Like Hanes and Fruit of the Loom. I keep my party clothes in a gym bag in the trunk of my car because I know those will offend my parents, but t-shirts? Seriously? Ugh. As if it's not already ridiculous enough that I have a Masters degree and hide clothing in my car, apparently t-shirts are too risque for this home. Where's a burqa when I need one?
Dad told me the other day as I was going to dance practice that I am wasting my life. For the last month, I've been unpacking, working on secondaries, going to the gym, applying for jobs, helping my mom with her publishing company, and developing some volunteer opportunities. And yes, one day a week I go to dance practice. How wasteful of me; I mean really, I should just ditch all of those useless things, stand by his side and see what he needs every minute of every day. That'll be good use of my time.
Living here also makes me never want to get married. In all honesty, my mom's life sucks. Each weekday, she wakes up around 5:30, gets ready for work, leaves by 7:15, and stays there until 5:30 or 6. When she gets home, sometimes she has time for a half hour nap, then she starts making dinner. By the time dinner is done and everything's all cleaned up, it's usually about 9:30. Then she goes to her computer and works on either Khalsa School stuff, book orders, or grades some papers. This takes her to about midnight, when she goes to bed. The weekends lately have been even worse with getting Khalsa School stuff put together; somehow, she manages to accommodate everyone's requests in terms of matching teachers with students and students with other students. Not easy for a school with 80 volunteers and 500+ students, but she does it. In that time, she also does laundry, makes 2 - 3 meals for the day, and on Sundays she manages Khalsa School from about 1 pm - 5 pm. Now here's the part where being married sucks: my dad doesn't help her with any of that stuff. The way he sees it, he's like "Her choice to get involved, her problem." I think his exact words were, "She gets so stressed by these other little things, she can't handle her duties at home." I damn near flipped my shit when he said that. As if it's below him to help out a little bit here and there? The hell is that? God help the man who sits on his ass when I come home from a long shift at work and am too tired to cook. And I think Satan would take better care of him than I would if he dared talk to me about my "duties at home." I mean, I already know that between my job and the volunteer stuff I want to do, I will be very busy. On top of that, taking care of bratty kids (if they are anything like me, they will be), an unhelpful husband, and aging in-laws... I would just hate my life. If married middle-aged life is anything like what my parents have, I don't want it.
Until recently, I thought my dad was one of the more progressive Punjabi parents because of how much he's encouraged my education and supported my wanting to go to medical school. Living at home, however, from his forcing me to move back here to just seeing how he is at home and with my mom, definitely fostered some resentment for him. I feel bad feeling that way because he has given me everything I have and supported me fully, but I honestly can't help it.
Moving used to be the start of something new in my life. Either a new neighborhood, new school year, or a new city; this time I got nothing. It feels like two steps backwards. Home used to be a place where I could retire from the world and unwind. Here, I can't wear what I want, eat what or when I want, watch TV before midnight when everyone's asleep, and I can't do what I want without running my plans by someone or asking permission. I want to move out, and I really want one of the jobs in San Francisco I applied to to work out, but so far nothing has come through. I got a couple of local opportunities, but those won't help my situation. I am bitter that my dad forced me to move here especially because it's harder for me to find a job, and I really, more than ever, cannot wait to go to medical school.
I learned that Dad has problems with the clothes I wear. I dress like a brazen hussie, I am cheapening myself by the way I choose to dress, and my presence irritates him when I wear "such clothing". I wear t-shirts. Like Hanes and Fruit of the Loom. I keep my party clothes in a gym bag in the trunk of my car because I know those will offend my parents, but t-shirts? Seriously? Ugh. As if it's not already ridiculous enough that I have a Masters degree and hide clothing in my car, apparently t-shirts are too risque for this home. Where's a burqa when I need one?
Dad told me the other day as I was going to dance practice that I am wasting my life. For the last month, I've been unpacking, working on secondaries, going to the gym, applying for jobs, helping my mom with her publishing company, and developing some volunteer opportunities. And yes, one day a week I go to dance practice. How wasteful of me; I mean really, I should just ditch all of those useless things, stand by his side and see what he needs every minute of every day. That'll be good use of my time.
Living here also makes me never want to get married. In all honesty, my mom's life sucks. Each weekday, she wakes up around 5:30, gets ready for work, leaves by 7:15, and stays there until 5:30 or 6. When she gets home, sometimes she has time for a half hour nap, then she starts making dinner. By the time dinner is done and everything's all cleaned up, it's usually about 9:30. Then she goes to her computer and works on either Khalsa School stuff, book orders, or grades some papers. This takes her to about midnight, when she goes to bed. The weekends lately have been even worse with getting Khalsa School stuff put together; somehow, she manages to accommodate everyone's requests in terms of matching teachers with students and students with other students. Not easy for a school with 80 volunteers and 500+ students, but she does it. In that time, she also does laundry, makes 2 - 3 meals for the day, and on Sundays she manages Khalsa School from about 1 pm - 5 pm. Now here's the part where being married sucks: my dad doesn't help her with any of that stuff. The way he sees it, he's like "Her choice to get involved, her problem." I think his exact words were, "She gets so stressed by these other little things, she can't handle her duties at home." I damn near flipped my shit when he said that. As if it's below him to help out a little bit here and there? The hell is that? God help the man who sits on his ass when I come home from a long shift at work and am too tired to cook. And I think Satan would take better care of him than I would if he dared talk to me about my "duties at home." I mean, I already know that between my job and the volunteer stuff I want to do, I will be very busy. On top of that, taking care of bratty kids (if they are anything like me, they will be), an unhelpful husband, and aging in-laws... I would just hate my life. If married middle-aged life is anything like what my parents have, I don't want it.
Until recently, I thought my dad was one of the more progressive Punjabi parents because of how much he's encouraged my education and supported my wanting to go to medical school. Living at home, however, from his forcing me to move back here to just seeing how he is at home and with my mom, definitely fostered some resentment for him. I feel bad feeling that way because he has given me everything I have and supported me fully, but I honestly can't help it.
Moving used to be the start of something new in my life. Either a new neighborhood, new school year, or a new city; this time I got nothing. It feels like two steps backwards. Home used to be a place where I could retire from the world and unwind. Here, I can't wear what I want, eat what or when I want, watch TV before midnight when everyone's asleep, and I can't do what I want without running my plans by someone or asking permission. I want to move out, and I really want one of the jobs in San Francisco I applied to to work out, but so far nothing has come through. I got a couple of local opportunities, but those won't help my situation. I am bitter that my dad forced me to move here especially because it's harder for me to find a job, and I really, more than ever, cannot wait to go to medical school.
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