Exercise, Daddy and Other Musings.

Another, otherwise, peaceful dinner conversation disrupted by my disregard towards my health. I just don't see the point of going to the gym. I don't see why that's so unusual for my family to understand. I don't mind the flabs forming on the sides of my stomach. My father dubbed my likes and dislikes as 'ghair fitri' (unnatural). I don't see how wanting to get tired can be considered natural and wanting to rest be considered unnatural.

My father says he wants me to talk openly with him. He wants me to tell him my vision for my future, where I see myself in ten years time and what the purpose of my life is. He maintains that he's always allowed for us to openly express ourselves. I sit across the table from him and think to myself: 'What lies!' We don't speak about anything in this house. We don't talk about the time he beat my mother, we don't talk about the time he threw a slipper at my brother when he was 3 years old or the time he beat the butler for not bringing him and his friends tea.

I feel uncomfortable speaking about myself with him. In fact, I feel uncomfortable speaking about anything with him. I don't know when he's going to snap. I've learned to deal with him by keeping my mouth shut and just nodding at everything he says but he seems to have a problem with that too now. He has a problem with everything. He said that I should go see a therapist and all I could think about was how he needed a therapist more than I did.

That being said, I have a myriad of issues and I feel as though I do need a therapist. I sit on this blog, typing away, just trying to figure out my life but it isn't enough. There's so much uncertainty. So much I don't know. So much I'm not satisfied with. My father doesn't really understand my 'likes and dislikes' but to be quite honest, I don't know what they are. I feel uncomfortable when my father asks me these questions because not only am I uncomfortable with my father, but I also do not know the answers to the questions he asks.

I think my father and I have finally agreed on something: a therapist may be good for me. I desperately need someone to piece together the broken fragments of my life.. I can't do it on my own. I just need someone to make everything less confusing, to make some sense of things. I think my mother sums up my life more accurately than anyone else, she asks: 'Tum zindagi se bezaar kiyun ho?' (Why are you sick of life?), and I don't know what to say. I know she's right and I want to change, I just don't know how.