As I have mentioned in my previous post, I was way too stressed out and anxious to fall asleep last night.
I was really overwhelmed, thinking about the list of things I had to do in the morning, and worried that I was not going to be able to do them right, that I’d forget to do something and get into trouble, or that my parents, especially my dad, was going to be in a mad mood in the morning and I was not going to be able to have a calm and constructive conversation with him regarding the application for my visa to India (I’ll explain about this visa thing later in this post).
In my vulnerability, I noticed how these last several days I had been feeling wierdly uncomfortable at home, almost as though I did not belong in there.
I had been on my toes around my family, even though it was not like I had anything to hide from them or to be blamed for.
It felt like I was walking around a mine field. I needed to approach everyone with caution, determine their mood and then speak to them accordingly, as though if I uttered one word wrong, they were going to shun me forever.
Although, now that I come to think about it, maybe it was the very way that I was acting that made me feel that way, and perhaps made my family a bit distant from me too, because usually we are a happy bunch…I think. Or maybe they aren’t intentionally being distant from me, or maybe they don’t even notice it at all.
I just want to feel welcome at home, I want to be able to walk in through the doors after a long tiring day, and be glad to see my mum’s face, and not have to worry about whether she is in a bad mood or not.
I want to be able to talk to her like we used to back when she came to visit me in Sydney again, like best friends. I miss her.
I know it’s not her fault that she has less time for all of that now, since over here, she has a full-time job, after which she comes back home and cooks and does a million other chores (I do try to help her out, but even then, there’s a lot that needs to be done around the house) before she can take a bath and go to sleep. Maybe she can sneak in some time here and there to watch TV, read books or just sit and breathe for a while, but that’s pretty much it.
She really does work hard so much, at home and outside, and I am so so grateful for all that she does for the whole family.
So I understand that she cannot be in the most peaceful and relaxed state of mind all the time. She might give me a cold shoulder and be mad at me for no reason at times, but that’s not her fault. She’s only human, and she’s not perfect. She’s stressed out.
But I digress. I really want to feel like I can stay here at home, as a part of the family, and not feel like they don’t like or trust me.
Right now, honestly, I don’t know what they think of me. I am not trying to be speculative, I definitely don’t want to doubt my family, and neither do I want them to about me.
It’s not that I don’t trust their love, I know they do, but sometimes I wonder if they sort of see me in a different way than they used to before. Sure, people do change, but I still want to be the same old sister/daughter in the family.
Thinking about all this in my head, I realised that all I wanted was just a hug. I needed someone to give me a bear hug, and tell me that it was going to be okay. I knew I was going to be just fine by the time I woke up next morning, but right then, I wanted that hug. And then I fell asleep.
This is a little out of order, as what I am about to talk about right now actually happened yesterday, before the above emotional turmoil that I went through in my bed. But I still have to explain what I meant by ‘having a calm and constructive conversation with Dad’, so here goes.
I went to the Indian High Commission yesterday for a scheduled interview for the visa that I had applied for online.
However, there was a bit of a problem with the permanent address that I filled it out with, and I was sent back to re-apply for the visa again with the amended address, or pay $60 at an approved international airport in India for an on-arrival visa (which is about $50 more expensive than if I applied from Bangladesh).
So I came back home, but then my dad made a huge fuss about it, like how I should have checked with him before submitting the form, that I should have known not to use that permanent address, that I am not being responsible enough, etc. etc. etc.
Like he ever takes the initiative to do anything unless it’s something that’s got to do with himself, for example, what he could eat for his lunch.
If I had asked him, he would have taken ages to start the application process, and I would have had to nag him a thousand times before I could get him to lift a finger.
Plus, he was aware that I was starting the application process on my own, and he was the one who told me to go ahead with it.
But now that I have fucked up, he’s all like, “you never ask me about anything and just do everything on your own and mess things up”.
You know what, Dad, I am thankful for all that you’ve done for us throughout our lives. But that doesn’t mean that I cannot be pissed off when you’re only all talk.
Of course, I kept these thoughts to myself, because there wouldn’t have been a point in giving him any constructive criticism.
He would have just been overtaken with rage, and we wouldn’t have been able to have a sensible conversation to figure out the best solution to our real issue here, which was the visa application.
So anyway, I re-applied for the visa with the correct permanent address and got everything ready to visit the High Commission again the next day (today) to see if they could do anything about the situation now.
Fast forward the story, I went there this morning with Dad, turns out I have to go back to their office again on another appointed date, but basically there won’t be any problem getting the visa before my departure to Kolkata. So it’s all good…I guess.
It’s kind of funny though, because for me, the best part about today’s visit to the office was not about the visa, but that I managed to speak to Dad without causing any unnecessary eruptions from him. Don’t judge me, I love my dad. It’s just difficult sometimes, that’s all.
Okay, so I guess that’s the end of my roundabout ramblings for the day.