More life story

I ought to finish my story before I move on to anything else. In a nutshell, my childhood was spent trying to please my father and avoid his depressions and rages. (I often wonder these days if he was actually borderline; I will never know.) When I left for college, things deteriorated even further.  My first year, I was trying to figure out what I was about, where I fit in in the world, and what direction to take any future career. It was hard enough without enduring my father’s constant harassing phone calls demanding to know what I was going to do with my life, what major would I choose, and to make sure I wasn’t wasting one cent of the tuition money. He would call and demand answers every day. I didn’t have answers—what nineteen year old would? I was confused and scared because I had figured out I wasn’t in the right atmosphere; I had picked the wrong school and made a major mistake. I did my best, but I wasn’t learning or becoming interested in anything and my grades weren’t particularly noteworthy, either. I went home between semesters and asked my parents if I could transfer schools, do something else—I was quite unhappy. That time is also a blank in my mind, but the end result was being driven back there despite my pleas. I gave up and simply lay motionless in the back of the car the entire trip. Silence again.

After another month of demanding phone calls, I couldn’t take the pressure. I packed up one night, bought a one-way plane ticket to Europe and left. Told no one. I spent two years in Europe, working menial jobs, living with a man, trying to figure things out.

After a few months, my parents managed to track me down. I really wanted nothing to do with them, but out of guilt, started talking again. I was feeling terrible about not having finished college, about not having a career. I wanted to be a professional yet I had no prospects. My father was kind and loving and promised that if I came back, he would change, that things would be different, that I could find a school that suited me better. He also reminded me of how I had no future where I was. Even though my boyfriend and I wanted to get married; I wanted to become a citizen, learn the language, and start work on some kind of a profession, it was a long haul to a far-away dream. This would be easier, quicker, and daddy loved me and would help me. Or so I believed.