What Colors the Steel Sky Blue

No matter what I do, wherever I go, I do not seem to fit anywhere. I grew up in Istanbul, Turkey, a wild, wild crazy wild city. I lived in the Levent neighborhood, a sort of wealthy, well educated part of town -- along with the privileged/rich people. My family is not rich but I guess they make enough. I have never been short on cash until I started maintaining my own balances in my late twenties. Now in the US, I live a poorer life but somehow it feels a lot more centered than my carefree life back at home. I think this is definitely one of the appealing points for me in terms of my existence in the US --my freedom and the struggle that goes with it.

Istanbul is eight hours ahead of Texas time, seven hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time. Right when it is time for me to go to bed over here, the people over there are just waking up. Needless to say this creates plenty of opportunities to have incoherent conversations between these two destinations. On the US side, I am fading as the late night hours roll, and on the Turkey side people have just jumped out of bed and have not even had the chance to wash their hands and have some coffee.

Conversations with my parents feel a lot like the weather; there are good days, there are bad days and then there are disaster days with tornados, and hurricanes with emotional casualties on both sides. I think my parents are just like the weather in NY, everything can be great for the first half of the day and then things can get mighty crazy all of a sudden. Many times I find myself tiptoeing my way through these perilous conversations trying not to trip over some word game, not to mention something that will remind them of an unpleasant event, not to make a single non-conversation related noise on my end (this usually results in my parents getting real paranoid that there's someone else in my apartment --the worst thing that can possibly happen to me according to them. We'll delve into this later.)

I believe that through the years I have developed an allergic reaction to my parents; its strength feels so beyond what simple bad feelings and arguments can create, it's almost a chemical reaction. They have been known to give me day long migraines and these days I can not find the strength to confront them on the phone, in e mail or in person. My parents have made an art of using their sorrow as a weapon to control me, my life, and my choices. My feelings of obligation make me unable to ignore what they do to themselves when I do something they do not like. So in many I guess you can say I am parent-whipped --big time. Or am I?

It is hard to find that comfortable sweet spot, where the desires/expectations of the family are met along with one's own wants and needs. It is a crazy maddening life consuming balancing act and I find myself in the middle of it all unable to find the energy to care. So what is wrong with me?