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I Lived Most of My Life Out of a Suitcase

 

Everything started since I was born…yes! that early. I was born in Tehran while my parents were still living with my maternal grandparents. I have spent one year with them, and it was the best time I ever had. Everybody was treating me like a queen and I couldn’t ask for more.

After one year, my dad decided to move to his parents’ state. He hated Tehran and still does, so as soon as he graduated, he went back to his town.

That was the first travel of my life with my toddler clothes packed neatly and sad farewells exchanged. I don’t remember the last hug and kisses I gave my grandparents, but that must’ve been an emotional one especially for me. Because now I know very well that I spent the rest of my live trying to recreate that loving atmosphere for myself, but it was impossible with my narcissist father and his more abusive family.

I spent eight years living in my dad’s small town, where there was nothing interesting to do and the city was not developed. I estimate that fewer than 2,000 people lived there at the time. I missed living in Tehran, where everything was full of life. I do not remember receiving any affection from my father’s family or anyone else in the town. I was unable to make friends for this reason.

During these eight years, we would visit Tehran every summer so that my mom could see her family. It was a deal made by my grandma that my dad agreed to. Whenever my mom asked me to pack my things, I did so with extra enthusiasm because I had plans and my mom knew this. I wanted to stay longer in Tehran.

I would do anything to avoid my family. I did not like how my brother and father treated me, or how all the men and boys in my paternal relatives treated me. On the other hand, my maternal relatives were more mature and friendly, and they have remained my favorite group to this day.

These were the best summers of my life. I was treated kindly, something I never felt at home. I was finally able to get a break from my toxic family. However, the closer it got to the end of summer, the more anxious I became about returning home. I didn’t want to leave and that was rough, but no one ever asked why.

My refreshing summers did not last long. I had to pack again, this time to an unknown destination. My dad had accepted a job in a distant state, and we all had to move. The sad part is that I could not take everything with me. The place we moved to was furnished, so all we had to pack were our personal items.

I packed my toys and clothes, not knowing what to expect in the new city. Unfortunately, I did not have enough time to discover it. We only stayed there for one year before having to move again to another state for my dad’s job.

He was advancing his career and never said no to any business opportunities. He did not consider how I had already struggled in an unknown city where everyone treated me like an outlander. It was like being Jon Snow in Castle Black, everyone hated me.

And now I had to pack and move again. Part of me was happy to leave these cold-hearted people, but I was anxious about what would happen next. Overall, I had only one choice, and this time my mom asked me to pack lighter.

We did not have much to carry, but my mom was apparently tired of packing and unpacking three times in less than two years. It was not easy with my newborn sister around.

Photo by Sam Haddad on Unsplash

I said goodbye to most of my favorite toys and books except one small doll that I loved the most. it was a cute little baby doll that when I pressed it on the chest, it played soothing music. I found it comforting in many tough times and I wanted to keep it forever. there was some of my baby clothes and plates that I would do everything to keep. my dream was to feed and clothe my own child in them. now it feels too much to dream about for a 10 years old girl, but I did.

We stayed in the new destination for 4 years and I finished my junior highschool over there. it was the coldest city I ever lived. but people were better, although making friends weren’t as easy as I thought. I was still treated like a stranger. I was very slow in making friends because I didn’t want to get close to people who I may say goodbye very soon, it would be heartbreaking. so I kept everyone at a reasonable distance.

In all these years, I have only seen my grandparents two or three times. my father was dominately controlling everything including people who come to our house, and as you might have guessed, he would mostly invite his family and whenever my maternal relatives came, he gave them a grumpy quiet face like they’re not supposed to be here. I really missed my grandparents and aunts and uncles, but I also didn’t want to be around them around my toxic dad who killed the whole vibe.

When my father got promoted again to the most distant state — somewhere in the south — I was literally done. I knew that fun is over for me. I have barely made friends, and I know I will not see my joyful positive relatives (due to 800 miles distance) again. so my social life was almost over. all I could get to do was to study like a nerd and fight with my dad and brother in between.

Here comes the packing time again, this time it was much harder. not only because I had to go through the same process again, because I could also see how my sister is packing 10 times more of me. I never got to pack as I wanted yet she was allowed to keep all her toys and everything. they even threw her a goodbye party at kindergarten. I was doing my best not to get jealous, but I couldn’t. whatever happened at that time made me distant from my lil sis for a while.

Anyways, we started living in the south of Iran and I can tell, it was somewhere I still miss to this day. for some reason, the kindest people on earth live there. I was no longer treated like a stranger. everyone was helping us to fit in, I was finally making lots of friends and it felt so good. we had no chance to see relatives much but my dad’s colleagues made sure we don’t feel alone, they kept inviting us over or introducing us to the city. they took me and my sister out to amusement parks and all the fun places we’ve never been to. it was a great time over there, finally.

Although for two years only.

This time my dad got promoted big time for a job in north, on very top of the map. somewhere +900 miles away! and he accepted it real quick.

Here I was packing again for the sixth time. I was really depressed this time. I knew I’d miss everything about this city, especially my friends but I had to say goodbye, we exchanged gifts and goodbye letters hoping to see eachother again, but we never did.

The new city in the north was completely the opposite of the southern one. it was all green like amazon forests. the north of Iran is basically called the lungs of Iran for having abundant greenery. although in the cities you see less of that, by 5 min drive you can enjoy an amazing view either at beach or in the forest. well, this was the reason we had many guests over that time. we were like a free hotel for our relatives.

I was 17 years old that I applied for nearby universities. I have studied for (Iranian version of) SAT when guests’ kids were playing my room. it was a suffocating situation, but no one could tell them to go home! however I could yell at their kids to shut up which only worked for 2 seconds or didn’t work at all. despite the rough situation, I got admitted into a university that was 1 hour away by car. as it was impossible for me to come and go every single day, so I rented a place in the dorm.

That’s right, my time to pack again! and this time it was a much harder emotional time. my mother just gave birth to my baby sister, it was her first C-section. being in her 40s, she definitely needed someone to care. that wasn’t my dad or a maid for sure, as he didn’t care. so it was me. I skipped first semester to take care of her and the baby and I absolutely loved every second of it, even the nights that my sister cried for hours.

It was February and I was anticipating the new semester to start soon. I needed to start packing. I was so depressed that if it wasn’t family pressure, I would most likely quit studying and stay to help my mom.

This time I was packing a lot of things. I had hygienic concerns and I didn’t want to use anything from the dorm. I had to bring my own mattress, pillow and blanket.

Plus, they didn’t provide us food and it wasn’t possible to eat from outside everyday. it means I had to pack pots and dishes too.

Those and my art supplies made the whole packing bigger than I thought. I wasn’t able to afford the cargo transfer so I asked if my father could take me. well, he didn’t. I don’t like to say why, cause it hurts me to think how careless he was. it was just one hour drive and all my stuff could fit in his car.

Photo by Omar Ramadan on Unsplash

…

I don’t remember how I took all my stuff to the dorm. my ADHD brain makes me forget tough memories so easy. it was either by renting a car or taking everything by bus.

And there in the dorm, I literally lived with my suitcases. there was no wardrobes so everything was tucked in the cases under my bed. that’s how I lived for about 3 years.

I fit in quite well in the dorm and I made very good friends from that university. my roommates used to change a lot, but they were mostly nice people. although, I didn’t have much fun time with them. I wasn’t allowed to.

My dad pushed me to come back home every weekend. he didn’t want me to stay one more hour in a different city away from his control.

So I had to pack my art supplies, my laptop and some other things to go home every week. it was a waste of money and time and everything, but I had no choice.

I used to hear how my friends are partying the weekends or have fun in the nature, but I was never allowed to. they kept inviting me but after a while, they have stopped and they decided to stay away. I was losing friends because of my controlling father.

I’m not going to say how rough my every weekend at home was. I had pending assignments but my dad had plans and I didn’t want to fight with him at all especially with a baby sister at home who can get traumatized. I obeyed him like a slave and when he was done with me, I stayed up till late to do my homeworks.

Then as I finished, I had to collect my artworks carefully and pack again. usually, my mom would cook extra food and freeze it for me till I’m able to take them to dorm. those food containers have been moved back and forth the route more than anything. I brought them empty and she’d refill them for me. until it was their time to pack.

That’s right, my dad got a much better promotion, this time his office was located in Tehran. he had lots of obstacles for this job, I was one of them. he didn’t want me distant from him. I assume it was his fear of his judmental gossiping family that didn’t allow him to let me be free on my own. however, he was a manipulative person all by himself. he needed no training in that.

His other obstacle was how he hated Tehran. he didn’t just love to control, he also hated to be controlled by anyone out of his family. to live in Tehran meant he would be in control of his wife’s family. I’ve never seen anyone from my maternal family interfere in my family, but he was always uncomfortable and I believe it’s because my mom had more power and support in her hometown and he didn’t want that.

Despite all these obstacles, he accepted the opportunity. none of us could make him say yes, it was his younger brother who did the work. he was also living in Tehran and all he had to do was to make my dad feel safe.

I had to skip some classes to help my mom packing, I also had to bring back more clothes and necessary stuff to the dorm. it was hell of a situation, but it was done. it was so sad to watch my family leaving without me. usually the opposite happens.

I suddenly had more freedom and I was loving it, I didn’t have to go back every week. so I had more time for everything. everything changed since then. surprisingly my grades got better, my art skills got better and I finally could make time for my friends more comfortably.

Although my happiness didn’t last long enough, it was the summer before my third year of college starts that my father said he’s doing paperwork to transfer me to Tehran.

I was shocked so much that I couldn’t speak for few days. I had so many reasons to stay in my current university but no one cared to ask. I felt like I’m treated like a sheep that is being moved from one farm to another without being asked if she wants to. in my father’s eyes, I was a brainless animal with no feelings and no power.

I didn’t want to leave my lovely green university to study in a polluted city. I wanted to stay with my old friends not making new ones. I knew it would take me a long time to fit in and it can risk my grades but one thing stressed me the most, the fact that my father won’t allow me to study and have my own space. he might as well damage me mentally.

I sadly packed everything, I said goodbye not knowing if it’s the last time I move without wanting to. I was numb actually, I wasn’t coldhearted at all. it is just when something happens a lot to you, you will be immune to it emotionally

And so did I as I was leaving that beloved city behind and get closer and closer to city of concretes, Tehran.

Nothing in Tehran was the same as it was during my childhood. the two-three storey building were replaced by tall buildings. the streets were no longer safe for children who play outside. there’s much more traffic and noice that airplanes flying above my grandparents’ hosue wouldn’t excite me anymore. everyone was too caught up making a living. everything has changed.

The professionalism in my new university motivated me to study harder. unlike my pain in the ass father, my mother was my savior angel. she was very happy that I’m with her so she doesn’t have to worry about my nutritions and health anymore. her dedication gave me more time to study and succeed in them which I could pay back by helping her in my break time. the same positive vibe inspired me and my little sisters to have a better bond. I can say that I was happy with my new life as I was studying.

Although the packing story didn’t stop. we changed houses 4 times over there till we find a place that my dad feels at home. we did it so much that the cargo transfers in neighborhoods knew us very well.

Long story short, it was my time of the big packing. this time, there was no packing to another city or house or something. I was planning to migrate to Europe and it meant I should pack as little as I can. but I couldn’t.

I left so many belongings in Iran (that I still dream about returning and packing them again, after 4 years) but the weight of my luggage exceeded the airline limit. I had to pay extra and I knew this is the price of having unremovable belongings. going through this type of packing once and for all, was the hardest event of my life. I had to pick which item hurts my feelings the most to stay away from.

This time I couldn’t take my mom’s tasty foods with me, I couldn’t take my childhood doll and plate with me. I missed many weddings, many funerals, many gifts, many newyears, many family dinners and so much more. and all I packed were meant to help me miss home less by all means.

But it didn’t.

and it never will.

It took me 6 months to afford a house rental in the west, until then I was living with my stuff in bags and suitcases. there’s no way I’d like to go back to those days, even the earliest experience of packing and “detaching”

I wasn’t created for it, it wasn’t meant for me.

Even that I survived it.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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The post I Lived Most of My Life Out of a Suitcase appeared first on The Good Men Project.

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