Damage Control

“Do you think you’ll ever get married again?”

I’ve gotten asked this question so many times in the past few months that I’ve lost count! When the question comes from my friends (as opposed to myself… because I’ve asked myself this countless times) it’s almost always followed by a phrase like “sorry I don’t want to pry” or “it’s OK if you don’t want to answer that” or “Sorry that’s a loaded question”.

“Gurrrl I live for these kinds of conversations!!! Do you know about my blog? It’s called The Married G….”

My immediate gut response or what I really want to say out loud is: “No”. “Hard Pass”. “Thanks but No Thanks”.

But I pretend to think about it for a while. This is how it comes out instead “ummm… Hmmm… I’m not exactly sure, but I don’t think so? Maybe if the right person comes along? But I’d rather just live with them and not go through the paperwork -even if I decide to have a family with him one day”.

I may not want another marriage, but I want babies so bad that my ovaries burst every time I see one. But you’d never know that!

The idea of living with a guy would have been an unacceptable answer before my first marriage. I got stuck between a super conservative upbringing in a liberal environment. My “Nature vs. Nurture” was so outta wack that I either felt ANGRY or ASHAMED for most of my life. I was angry that I wasn’t allowed freedom, and felt ashamed when I crossed those boundaries. With two brothers (one older and one younger) who were able to do things I couldn’t, I felt trapped in my own body. Double standards were the bane of my existence and I often wished I wasn’t a girl. My female sexuality became the enemy in my teenage years. If I wasn’t able to go to my after-prom, I’d get angry. If I lied and snuck out and had my first shot of alcohol at 18 on a boat with my graduating class, I felt freaking incredible but also really guilty.

Living/ traveling/or even spending a night somewhere with boys was out of the question. Lemme demonstrate:

Back in the summer of 2012 (when we were all really looking forward to the world ending) I went up to my fiance’s family’s cottage a couple of hours outside of Tehran where I was staying. His whole extended family was going to stay the night: parents, aunts, uncles, and lots of cousins (I think he had more cousins than I did, and I may have found that charming…).

“Mom, can I please stay over? I’ll sleep in the same room as his sister and the other girls.”

“No.”

-“Please? It’s late and dark already. It’s over a 2 hour drive and I promise I’m staying with the girls. His parents are here!”

“I’ll get a cab and come pick you up.”

WE WERE ENGAGED.

So we left.

Anger. Shame. Anger. Shame.

If you live in the Middle East, then you know that this is the standard way of life. Girls have learned to cross lines on a daily basis and push those boundaries without guilt. #RESPECT

Except that I grew up in North America.

I was a preteen in Canada: My parents were against sexual education (they didn’t vote for Doug Ford. #proud) and wanted me out of the classroom in grade 6 when the consent forms were sent home. The kids would make a big deal out of me being in class right before the lesson started.

“BUT MISS!!!!!! ATOOSA IS STILL IN THE CLASSROOM”. I’d get escorted out and sat down in an empty library for being different. Shame. Anger.

I’ve never had “the talk” with my mom. There was never even a book exchange.

“You’re never allowed to have a boyfriend”

-“Until when?”

“Marriage”

“Because girls are more likely to get hurt”

But…

“Because girls are more likely to get hurt”

So I had my first boyfriend when I turned 14. It’s hard to remember a time where I wasn’t in a relationship between then and my separation… Until now. But all of my relationships, all those teenage hormones, and all the feelings of lust and love were mixed with guilt, shame and anger.

“Because girls are more likely to get hurt”

This has never made any sense to me because it’s always been easy for me to leave relationships behind that don’t make me happy: I think it’s my superpower. “Out of sight out of mind”. I’m not the ice cream eating, sad rom-com watching kinda girl. I breathe in a sigh of relief and say “I’m glad that’s over. What’s next?”

I remember when my first boyfriend and I broke up, I listened to sad songs on purpose and tried really hard to cry – because that’s what you’re supposed to do at 15…

Emotionally, my separation has been freeing, but in every other way it has been a pain in the ass: the paperwork, the financial costs, and the waste of time of the said paperwork…

“I’m never getting married again.” I said that over dinner once shortly after I had moved back in with my folks- with my whole family present at the dinner table.

I’ve had a whole year to reflect. Somehow, my previous life seems like it was a thousand years ago. I feel like I’ve grown. I feel like I’ve pulled over at the side of the road, and have opened up the hood to peek through where I’d always been afraid to look: (nope… never did that mirror thing either) at my shame and my anger.

I’ve never blamed my upbringing for my failed marriage because I’m not a coward. But could I have known better? What if something had happened that night at the cottage and I got to see the person I was marrying for longer than 12 hour intervals? Would things have been different? Probably not.

What if I had the freedom I so desperately wanted while growing up? Would things have been different then? Possibly. If I was able to travel alone or with friends maybe I wouldn’t associate my marriage with the freedom to see the world. Here’s one for irony: I never traveled for the whole duration of my marriage: almost 5 years.

Things are different now: I’ve been to 3 new counties in the past 6 months. I took off my clothes and went skinny (chubby?) dipping in the beaches of Barcelona in bright daylight. I let go of the shame and the anger – I cried tears of happiness. It had nothing to do with sexuality and everything to do with letting go.

I’ve been trying to undo the damage caused by nearly three decades of guilt and shame.

“You shouldn’t date until your divorce is finalized.”

Not only did I start dating, I’m writing a blog series about it too! It’s called “The Married G…”

The Persian culture is infested with shame and guilt – especially when it comes to sexuality. As a Persian girl, I spent a lot of time wishing my parents trusted me with more power and freedom. I would have fucked up numerous times if they had, but I think making mistakes is a part of life. I think it’s part of growing up and learning. I think it’s essential to becoming a functioning member of the society. Because at the root of shame and guilt, you’ll find fear: Fear to try new things, fear of change, fear to make decisions and fear to live your life to the fullest.

Undoing years of damage is exhausting but I’m done carrying this burden of regret, remorse and rage.

Oh and I’m NEVER getting married again.