Fleeing the nest

I’ve done this before. This is not something of a novelty to me. I know what to expect, what to do if things go astray. Moving out is not that difficult. 

Four years ago I moved out of my family home to live near my campus for convenience. Now I’m moving out of my family home again, doing the same thing. But is it for the right reasons? 

Divulging my intention to move out again to my parents was one heck of a challenge, because I had no convincing and legitimate reason to do so. The drive from home to my office? Half an hour max. The drive to the city centre? About the same. The drive to meet my new boyfriend? Likewise. So what gives rise to the need to move out?

Initially I was met with disapprovals and reprimands. They were reluctant to let me go. My parents feared that I wouldn’t be able to manage my finances and that I would live too hedonistic of a lifestyle without their close scrutiny. Well they are not wrong lmao particularly when it comes to the latter. And that’s one reality, in my opinion, that parents have to face. 

I’m not too devout of a Muslim, nor am I non-practicing, but I do have conscience; sound enough to tell apart what is wrong and what is right. That’s something that parents often overlook in their child. As I grow older (rightly so, I’m 24 now), I ought to have the liberty to make my own decisions because I have perfect mental capacity to do so. I mean, come on, I obtained a driver’s licence SEVEN years ago, have now GRADUATED with a Law degree and am now EMPLOYED. All those are big girl stuff. So why is it so hard to let me do this other big girl thing in the form of moving out? 

Saying all of the above verbally to my parents was not as easy haha. So when I was sitting down on the sofa facing both of my parents who were looking at me with questioning looks, I crumbled and cried. OUT LOUD. I stumbled on my words, chest heaving from my sobs, voice did not come out good at all. I cried lots and lots of inexplicable tears. 

That was when my parents halted their stern interrogation and turned soft on me. “Kenapa sebenarnya, Aisya?”

I realised then that what I wanted was not to get away from them. In fact I want to grow old and watch them grow old too. We all don’t live forever. But what I truly want was a sense of independence. My antidepressant-addled self wants so badly to be independent and not have people hover over me so as to ensure that I’m not harmed. Ever since my hospitalisation two years ago, I’ve been seen as a fragile, vulnerable being who must be protected at all costs. 

It’s suffocating, to say the least. I want to break free and prove that I’m a functional human, just like all of you reading this. 

My parents listened as I rambled on. I swore by then I could see tears in their eyes too. Their stoic baby daughter breaking down? That’s their braking point. I hated that they were tearing up as well. I wanted a neutral, levelheaded discussion so that I could reason with them calmly. But when it comes to family, you can’t help but be emotional, can you? So an idea came to mind.

I brought them to therapy with me a week later. 

My longtime therapist, Mr Leng mediated the discussion between my parents and I, and boy was the whole session so much better than the emotional outbreak back at home. It was enlightening. It turns out that I have been misreading my parents’ intention. They are just genuinely fearing for my safety. They do trust me. It’s the strangers around me that they don’t trust. In my dad’s words, “My daughter comes home late at night and you know there’s a bunch of fuckers out there wanting to take advantage of her”. My mum simply nodded along. They are not overprotective. They are scared for me. 

Mr Leng also pointed out the generational gap between my parents and I, to which my parents acknowledged. “We’ve been young before too”, said my dad. Jokes about my dad’s younger days of attending Def Leppard concerts were thrown in. It’s a testament to the fact that my parents are not hindering me from living my life. I felt as if a hefty weight has been lifted off my back. I felt like I could fly. 

I’m not sure if my parents and yours share the same mentality, but one thing I learnt for sure; we stand on different grounds but see the same moon. No matter how much we differ, there’s always a way to work everything out and see eye to eye. Don’t worry about it too much.

To my parents, I love the both of you. I love my siblings too. All four of them. I can take care of myself. Worrying is inevitable, it’s second nature as parents but don’t worry too much. I love you, I love you, I love you.