Every few months or so, I uncover a new way my upbringing has permanently scarred me, and it's a little frightful.
Overly personal entry warning, so read as you so desire. Unfortunately, I
am an oversharer.
I finally got my learner's permit today. I wasn't able to get it when I was sixteen, mostly because I have very restrictive parents that didn't believe me nor my sister should be given the ability to drive (I suspect they worry that I would've tried to flee them if given that much freedom), but also I feared being behind a wheel and having to be in control of my life as well of the life of others. I'm slowly starting to feel that both of those reasons are the result of my upbringing.
I know, I know, it's 2019, and blaming your behaviours and neuroses on your parents is so last year and all that. I'm not saying I blame them - actually, maybe I am. Nevertheless, I understand that the repercussions of this upbringing are my own fault and it is my responsibility to overcome my shortcomings and provide my own healing. Still, I can't find myself obsessively interested with how these behaviours came to be. Blame the psych student in me, I suppose.
Speaking of being a Psych student, I hate Freud. Of course. Yes, he founded the general basis of psychology, but none of how he practised is at all verifiable, nor does it reflect how modern day psychology is studied at all. He brought interesting ideas to light, yes, and got people interested in the concept of the unconscious mind, but everything he suggested was immediately shed and discarded. That being said, I still find many of his ideas...interesting, in the way that astrology or MBTI types might be interesting. They hold no weight, and I am aware of this, but I still remain curious to see how these concepts (Geminis being curious, INFPs being imaginative, etc) apply to my day-to-day life.
All of this to say is that, according to Freud, I would have an oral fixation. Me and my sister both, actually. While hers takes shape in obsessive smoking and mine in stress-eating, we both have the habit of chewing on plastic water bottle caps, biting our fingernails down to the nubs, constant and gratuitous chatterings and more. Several (and I mean several) of my shirts have holes near the collar because I'll bite on them absentmindedly when anxious, often without even realizing. Even as I type this, I am chewing on the inside of my cheek.
At first I could not remember what psychological hangup correlated with oral fixation, and was initially too proud to look it up. Unfortunately, my curiosity got the best of me (maybe astrology is real) and, upon light Googling, I learned that oral fixation is usually a result of over-protection in childhood, forming an adult who resists maturation and instead prefers to be dependent on others. Which...I could write a whole paragraph about what I felt when I read that, but I think it would be much easier to say "oof." So...Oof.
I wouldn't call my childhood helicopter parenting, not at all. Instead, it was an odd mix of latchkey-kid syndrome with overly-restrictive rules that I think rose with the popularity of the dual-income household. My parents did not trust me to look after myself, but did not have the resources necessary to look after me for themselves, and thus I was given an extremely comprehensive set of rules and strict punishments should I disobey them.
I wasn't allowed to buy my own things until I was sixteen - my parents believed giving me money was pointless, saying that it was essentially just their money in my hands, and if I wanted something I could ask them to buy it. The thought of me going to stores by myself didn't occur to them because I also wasn't allowed to take public transport until I was about that same age. Despite the fact that my parents worked long hours, if I needed to get home and they or an approved alternative (such as a school bus or a relative) were unable to pick me up, I would simply have to wait there until they could come. This would often result in me having to wait 3-4 hours in the office or waiting room simply to go home. I wasn't allowed my own phone until I was about fourteen, a job until I was eighteen (because why would I need to worry about money if they could simply provide for me?) or, yes, a driver's license until I was twenty. I also wasn't allowed to hold on to my own health card until I was eighteen, was not allowed my own bank account until I was seventeen (which is currently still connected to my father's account and that he checks up on to this day to see what purchases I'm making/how much money I have remaining), was not allowed to date until I was eighteen (though they still are uneasy about that, I think), and they still don't trust me to hold on to my own passport (in case I lose it) or make large purchases without their consent. I am also not allowed to drink at all (despite being the legal drinking age) or be home past midnight - though I'm not sure if this is restrictive or expected; as you can expect, I have no standard for what is considered "normal."
The odd thing is that I was never monitored in the normal way. This is where the latchkey-kid life comes in, I think. My parents still trust me. They've never asked to see what was on my phone or my laptop. They've never looked over my class schedule. When I tell them I'm spending the night with a friend, they never ask any questions, except for if I need them to pick me up. I recently went to the United States alone, and while my parents were anxious and constantly reminded me to call them if I needed anything, they never asked what I was doing, what I was spending money on, where I was staying, or the like. It's this weird in-between in that...they trust me, but they still don't want me to be completely independent of them.
On some level, I'm sure it's normal. Parents don't want their kids to grow up and all that, and I know it comes from a place of well-meaning. They want my life to be easier. My parents were very adamant about me going to school near home because they didn't want me to worry about living with strangers, cooking for myself, and other assorted responsibilities of living away from home. Still, even knowing it comes from a good place, it's...scary. I don't know how to explain the feeling. I just fear that I'm not appropriately equipped to deal with real life because my family never wanted me to be. I know I should be grateful, and of course part of me is, but a part of me wishes I was able to...I don't know? have freedom?
The part that puzzles me, however, is that despite them saying that all this comes from a place of them never wanting me to worry, they still make me worry constantly. They would talk to me about debt and money problems from a very early age, but not allow me to get a job or provide for myself. They would tell me they have to drive hours to pick me up from certain functions because they work so far from home, but not allow me to learn to drive or take public transport. This is where my anxiety comes in, where I worry that, whether or not it comes from a good place, their tactics verge on fear-mongering and creating a dependency upon them.
I think most of it comes from intergenerational trauma. Though I did spend my childhood in poverty, my parents spent the majority of their life in poverty, as well as in a third-world country with an extremely corrupt government, and I can only imagine the fear that accompanies this. I can only assume they're trying to shield me by such a life by ensuring that I don't go through life unguided and make the same mistakes, so to speak, but it's given me a fear of making any mistake. Literally, any mistake in the world.
For example, I have a crippling fear of spending frivolous money. And by crippling I mean, remember when I said several of my shirts have holes in them? That's also because I haven't bought new clothes for myself in several years. I will not buy anything new until I am absolutely forced to. I have never bought anything name-brand in my life, and this includes things with less than a dollar difference like Lays chips vs no-name brand potato chips. I only get new phones when my dad's done with his old one, in which case I inherit that phone while he gets a new one. I'll eat meals before going out to dinner with friends so I'm not tempted to order anything expensive. My phone plan is, like $30/month which, I'm not sure how it is in other countries, but in Canada means that I basically only get service within the GTA. I have a few thousand dollars in my savings account that I have never and will never touch. I get uneasy spending money. I have not bought something for myself in a very long time.
This all leads me to last weekend, when I was feeling upset and (after much deliberation and lots and lots of cajoling from my best friend), I cave in and buy a lip balm making kit to cheer myself up. It was fifteen dollars, and Eid was coming up (for those who don't know, Eid usually comes with Eidi, or Eid money), so I figured I'd allow myself to splurge. However, when my parents saw it and found out how much it was, their jaws drops, and they spent the next few days berating for wasting my money on something I didn't need.
Again, I know this comes from a history of poverty - my dad had a single pair of pants growing up that his mom would simply have to wash every day - but it was...I'm not sure. It was an odd feeling. One where I felt like I messed up, I was a disappointment, even though I knew logically I hadn't really done anything wrong. On the scale of wrong things I could do, this was probably like...a point five.
On my way to take the written driver's test, I panicked. As every kid who was praised for being gifted and talented knows, failure is never an option. Failure does not just define that circumstance of being failed, but it defines you as a whole as being a failure. If presented with something that may result in failure, the only option is to freeze up. Once again, me failing this test would have minuscule consequences - I would simply have to pay for the test again - but the fear of me disappointing people (who? my parents, I guess) terrified me. I tried to explain this to my dad, but he told me that I was one of the smartest people he knew, and that only dumb dumb idiots failed the learner's permit test. As you can imagine, this did not calm my nerves.
I passed - it was a fairly simple test, after all - but my hands shook through the entire examination. Failure was not an option. Failure would ruin me.
This is what I mean when I say I never felt able to make a mistake ever. My parents believed me to be great, which is very kind of them and I truly am grateful for them, but it was a concerning amount of pressure. I had to be good at everything I put my mind to - there wasn't really an "or else," either. In high school, when I told my parents I wasn't good at Biology and I wanted to drop the course, they asked me why. When I told them I simply wasn't good at it, that I didn't have a very good memory and could not remember all that was required to continue on with the course, they wouldn't accept that as an answer. They made me take that class until the school guidance counsellor advised me to drop it after it gave me a panic attack in the middle of the day, and still they were disgruntled at this course of action. They told me I was giving up. The idea of something being beyond my capabilities was not something they could see.
Finally, I'll bring this back to my fear of driving - sorry, I'm a longwinded story teller. I hope you're still following, though. The fear of being behind a wheel, I believe, comes from my inability to allow myself to fail combined with my belief that I am not good enough to succeed. Being given responsibility is not something I was used to, and given this much responsibility - one of my own life and of others - is terrifying. I'm sure it's terrifying for others as well, but as someone who can't purchase fifteen dollar toys without wanting to consult their parents, you can imagine the kind of stress it puts me under. I don't want to be responsible for things because I believe, given my lack of experience with responsibility, I will fail. And I can't fail. I absolutely cannot fail. With driving, not only can I not fail because failure is not an option, but I cannot fail because failure may result in the death of myself and others. Then I am responsible for another person's life, when I am barely responsible for myself. I couldn't even begin to bear the thought of that.
I hope any of this makes sense. If you read this far, feel free to tell me if you were able to follow along - I know my thoughts have a tendency to become disjointed and messy very quickly, but I hope it all tied together in some way or another. Thank you for listening, if you did. I appreciate it more than you know.
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