Hello again. It is me. It always seems that you are thing I run to when I need to understand. It is you, the written word, that is holding me together at this moment. I am tired. I am anxious. And I am incredibly fragile at this very moment. If I could not have escaped to this cafe for an hour, maybe I would not have had the chance to come to you. And all of this would be circling through my head during a long, restless night.
Last week. I had the most incredible opportunity. A mom vacation. A getaway. 15 long hours on a plane to America. And yes, 15 long hours on a plane back to Bahrain. The trip was for an important job interview. The job that would change everything for our family. And yes, I was informed yesterday that I didn’t get it. I am very disappointed because a dream was lost. However, at the end of the day I know that a job is simply a job.
Bahrain is my location now. It is the place where I am stuck as I work out the completion of my son’s dual citizenship. It is my son, my mother-in-law and I most days. I was told that this trip would be one month maximum, and I was all for it at first. “WOW!” I thought “It is a miracle to be traveling again after the period of being Covid grounded!” I am starting my third month and this experience has been so desperately isolating. My husband is in America. Half of my heart is there. And I feel like a solo parent without him.
How did I feel on my trip to America? Did I miss my son?
I felt absolutely fantastic. I rode a bike and felt the cool breeze of fall, matched with the remaining warm sun of summer. I ate big stacks of pancakes and laughed with my husband. I went dancing and slept without interruption. In my heart, I still thought of my son. I wondered how he was feeling and I felt worried that the separation might hurt him emotionally. But the happiness I felt was overwhelming.
Upon my return, I realized that my son was lovingly and carefully watched after. And I have thought to myself, maybe he is better off without me. Maybe my son does not need a mother who really only thinks of ways to be separated.
And yesterday evening. In a time of exhaustion, I cried one of those cries that makes your eyes swell until they close.
I cried for myself and all the mothers without a “way out”.
I thought of solutions. Alternatives. I thought of booking a flight. Planning an escape.
For the only time I feel okay is in the quiet moments to myself while my son takes a nap.
Is my life limited to nap time?
I remember that these feelings were also present in America. But I had a support group. I could go outside and walk with my son. I felt like a mother with my own choices. And here, I feel that my choices are limited and the weather is so hot that a simple walk outside is difficult. Dress codes and cultural standards also limit the things I can do independently.
What is the solution here? What can I do to save myself and the relationship with my son?
No one can understand the pain that I feel. I have reached out on a number of occasions and it seems this dual citizenship is a process I must wait out for my son. At the expense of my soul, my health and well-being.
musafira 