The fact that I’m a single mom in India is something I’ve made my peace with. It’s a mixed bag- but I’ve learnt to accept the particular mix of opportunities and limitations that it brings. Wow – I sound very corporate in that line. Sigh.
I found myself a job at a Big 4 consulting firm while fighting abduction charges from the child’s father.. largely because I was already a CPA certified in the state of California. Going by reports in the newspaper – being charged with abducting their own child is a charge that foreign courts regularly allow abusive fathers to mete out to the Indian women fleeing them to the refuge of their parents’ homes in India.
I’ve got my share of scars. Just like all humans do. I am under treatment for depression from four years ago. Cognitive dissonance. PTSD. My job is a high stress job. And there is societal judgment for not having a husband or having chosen to break my marriage with a wealthy husband. The question often asked of me is – why would I choose to take my name off a green card application with a wealthy husband and return to a Tier 2 city in India? That, and the fact that I moved out of my parents’ to run my own home – places me under severe societal suspicion of being a wild child. Because I’ve rebelled against the two things that drive Indian sentiments at the most basic level – marriage and parental approval.
Any person who has been through a long-term abusive relationship can understand that: It doesn’t matter where you live, or how much money you have, if you struggle to fall asleep at night because your instincts are screaming with trepidation.
Tired of the questions, I’ve learned to side-step these by trying to hide under the safe-net umbrella of being close to parents and the sudden, if misplaced, dignity that comes from working for an esteemed corporate name.
Yet- there was always a heaviness to my interactions with peers. No matter how carefully I played it; I was remained outside the norm and regarded with something bordering on consternation.
I thought men and women had a problem with my being single and unhappy. They felt I had no right to my scars. That I was playing up my loneliness and had no reason to complain since after all – I was still sane and pretty. And ostensibly – absent serious financial trouble thanks to my job.
So: I learned to be happy. It took me a few years. Therapy. More work experience. Home running experience. And a wrapped legal battle. But yes. Acceptance of the cards I held.. did come.. slowly.
I bottom out my account pretty regularly just funding our groceries, bills and hobbies but don’t complain because hey – isn’t that what I work for ?
I don’t complain about the hard work of keeping a house while raising a child while working full time while dating this man while keeping a relationships with parents because well – that’s what a full life looks like, isn’t it ?
Bottom line : I don’t complain.
However when I try to make friends. Oh wow. I’m amazed at the sheer breadth of judgments that comes with it. Now, married women are singularly convinced that I’m leading a happier, more fulfilling life than them.
This is interesting because I happen to remember what married life can be like. And when it works right: it’s a cyclical oscillation between joy and pain where each cancels the other. You’re left at net zero. Unlike the single parenting where each morning I wake up with a subtle dread wondering how on earth I’ll do one more day of juggling, balancing, working, cajoling, focusing and finally go to sleep with a slight ache of loneliness in the heart.
One lady pointed asked me if I pretty much dropped my child off at my parents the whole day (turns out she does that for summer) and whether I have a full time nanny to take care of him. I asked who is the one needing full time care here ?, genuinely confused; then realized she referred to my 11 year old son.
This was within the first 10 minutes of our meeting. Sick of the comparison games and the not-so-obtuse insinuation that I was probably some trust fund kid pampered by welcoming parents… hence nettled beyond imagination, I responded gently pointing out it must be nice to live with a husband who backs you up. She blushed in response.
Interestingly, she then proceeded to tell me the stories I know too well. Of the husband who parents too little, doesn’t protect you from his parents and feigns blindness when household chores are in play. Of the intense demands on your emotional strength and the perceived loosening of bonds with your pre-teen as their minds expand and your work life expands. Suddenly, I was agony aunt ? Not one to wave down a peace flag being proferred, I listen quietly and commiserate. I lend her my understanding and provided her validation at what was a get together to celebrate my sons’ eleventh birthday.
Another lady married friend, found my failed attempts to garner emotional support from my boyfriends while navigating single parenthood so comic; she asked me as to why I was incapable of staying single and whether I needed to validate myself with a man. It would be more of a learning moment if she wasn’t carrying on her father’s business while married to her brother’s best friend. So that line coming from her cozy home didn’t sit right with me. I said nothing. I simply said she was right and moved on. I’ve finally learned to ignore it and not respond. People who can’t find spaces in their heart to say they don’t fully understand another’s pain … perhaps need not proffer opinions ? It’s okay. I let go.
I have a life where my main emotional support is my mum. She’s 60. My siblings live in two different time zones. I don’t drink and I don’t smoke. I don’t have regular ‘night outs’ and have no time to watch tv shows. So if I seek a release by engaging in conversations with men I match with and date – I don’t see why that is something I should defend myself for. Apologise for what ? Seeking compassion? Companionship? Even intimacy ?
Is a single man expected to apologise for seeking those things ? Or is this just me being too woke for society ?
The married men friends. Know me from twenty plus years ago. One turned his back on his corporate career to become a full time trainer and guitar instructor. The other married his Polish girlfriend and moved to Atlanta. Life choices that are suitably outside the norm and hence – I hoped – their hearts wide enough to permit their inner selves to be accepting of mine.
Despite knowing me to be the good girl who never responded to their flirtations: they find my attempts to date – misguided, even sleazy. . A single woman who can seek intimacy to keep herself balanced is unaware of her true market value and is just selling herself for free. This proud woman was viscerally offended but friendless without them, so put up with the judgments. Until recently I spoke up and alienated them both.
I wonder why it isn’t okay for people – to just let others lead an imperfect life while being neutral towards them. Does ‘being friends’ – the childlike version of – ‘being friendly’ – have to entail endless comparisons on who has a greater right to feeling beleaguered ? Does it have to involve moral grandstanding ? Why not just observe and say nothing : because you have no idea what their journey is ?
In this article, I’ve written about my own personalised take on these pseudo friends and their life situations at the risk of sounding catty, judgmental and selfish. However during the actual interactions with them; I hadn’t let my own awry mind get in the way of being genuinely nice to each person. I don’t lecture the married men I find on Bumble. I don’t remind married women how much nicer life is when you can tell your spouse how you are worried about how your son will turn out – without worrying about that being used against you in Court.
And yes – not have to worry about retiring alone safely because you don’t have spare money after raising a child.
I don’t expect them to help me or watch my sick kid. All I’m asking is for an hour of company that involves a non-judgmental and pleasant exchange that can be respectful, kind and dignified.
Probably they carry unspoken trauma themselves ? Maybe I remind them of a freedom they yearn for ? Maybe they’re just unmindful ? Maybe I just live in a small Tier 2 city where I meet people who lack the social skills to deal with people like me. For no fault of theirs.
I know that I’m alright, alone. I also know why I choose to live here. However I’m not trading personal information or peace of mind for friendship. If that’s what I’m expected to do. I’d rather set store by healthy habits and an empathetic doctor and a good relationship with my son.
