revisiting episode 4b - where i’m at currently ₊⊹♡
It’s been about a month since I filmed episode 4b, which delves into the tumultuous end of 2023 and the beginning of 2024. This episode explores my life at home, highlighting the daily strain that intensified as I grew older and sought independence. Reflecting on my current life—sitting in the library with a planned schedule and having just enjoyed an amazing weekend—it’s hard to believe how far I’ve come.
A little under a year ago, I hit rock bottom. The accumulated and unhealed trauma left me unable to care for myself, let alone others. My enjoyment in life diminished, and I withdrew from friends, collapsing into exhaustion after class. My toxic workout routine and barely eating left me barely able to stay awake. My academic performance suffered, and despite my efforts to maintain a facade, I struggled deeply.
I appeared to have it all—a beloved school, a seemingly supportive friend group, and a summer investment banking offer. Yet, I was miserable, feeling isolated and burdened by the expectation to make my parents proud, despite my own dissatisfaction with my major. The more I tried to fix my life, the more I regressed. Returning home for Thanksgiving, I faced the consequences of my actions and was on the brink of failing my classes and losing my scholarship. I felt like a broken vase, unable to hold together despite my efforts.
Returning to campus to end off the semester, I found solace in binge eating, a coping mechanism for the emotional exhaustion I faced.
As exams approached, I knew I couldn’t face them and risked losing my scholarship. I reached out to my professors and advisor, explaining my mental health struggles. Their understanding allowed me to defer my exams and return home.
That winter break was full of binging, procrastinating, dealing with my mother and her many BPD episodes, my younger sister trying to help me but not knowing what to do, and a wave of hopelessness every hour. I couldn’t study, and quite frankly, I didn’t want to. I just wanted to push a button that would make me disappear and cause all of my problems to evaporate away with it too. My mother’s reactions showed me that her concern was more about her own comfort than my well-being. I had been the family’s caretaker, but my absence was met with backlash and manipulation. When I voiced my struggles in a calm and collected way to my mother, careful not to anger her, she went on a rampage, falling on the floor, rolling around like a child, screaming and crying, asking what people would think about her if I was gone. That’s when I had the mind-boggling realization—it was never about her children, it was about her. It was about her emotional comfort, and now that I was no longer able to validate her emotions, she lost it. What’s funny is, the blame was still placed on me. I had helped raise both of my sisters, taken care of the house, prioritized family constantly, and succumbed to every convoluted rule she had placed on me for decades. Essentially, I was the glue of the household.
As a college student who was always cautious with the money I earned, I couldn’t handle my finances the way I wanted to. My age didn’t matter to them—I was their property, and because I enabled it, I handed over my autonomy. It’s interesting though, I was given adult responsibilities as a child, but treated like a child my entire life. Mediating, fixing, and wilting—I endured it all. Day in and day out, I was blamed as the cause of her suffering—suffering born from her untreated mental disorder, which she would never agree to seek help for. I couldn’t fix her, but I tried every day. The situation grew so disturbing that any action I took was blown out of proportion.
The most unforgettable experience was in seventh grade. I had an innocent celebrity crush on Justin Bieber, and because of that, she told me she had no reason to continue living. She described how she would cry all day after I left for school, refuse to eat, and wanted to end everything. I stood there in shock, feeling as though I had been hit by a truck. Seeing my reaction, she elaborated, detailing how she would sometimes run red lights, contemplating crashing into a building. She even threatened to take my youngest sister, the light of my life, back to Ethiopia so that I would never see her again. Sometimes, she would leave the house in anger, saying she was going to drive somewhere and never return—only to come back a few hours later and give me the silent treatment for days until I begged for forgiveness.
Each of these times, I didn’t even know what I was apologizing for.
A few years ago, and again when I started college, I asked to see a therapist to address the issues I had faced, but she retaliated. Deep down, she was seeking validation for her insecurities, wanting me to reassure her by saying, 'No! You are a good mother!' I apologized for ever bringing it up and sank back into the depths of my unresolved issues, receiving no help. As a result, I had never been in therapy before. It wasn't until January 2024 that I finally enrolled in therapy.
When I got back to campus again in January, I started experiencing flashbacks from my childhood randomly— things I didn’t even know how to unpack, and tried to suppress them. I would have piercing, shooting pains in my neck and stomach every time this happened. I kept getting consumed with the thought that I would never be free from my parents’ control.
My parents had my location at all times, access to my credit card, my bank accounts, health insurance, all of my personal identification documents locked in a safe, the list goes on. It’s almost like they knew this day would come, and they would make it almost impossible to make a clean break. Everytime I realized this, I fell back into my depression and reached for food. Food would give me the comfort for a few seconds that I so desperately wanted, only to be left with the realization that it was temporary. What adds to this complexity is the fact that I barely had any freedom with food growing up. My parents only bought healthy food growing up - the only time we would have “fun” food was during holidays. So, by binging like that, I was almost defying them at the same time. Almost like, yes, I’m eating whatever I want, and since you don’t know about it, you can’t do a damn thing. But, I was hurting myself at the same time. It was a zero-sum game.
In February, despite everything going on, I refrained from withdrawing from college and turned to God. I spoke to Him as a friend and father, seeking solace and guidance. This shift marked the beginning of my healing journey. I renewed my connection with music, which played a crucial role in my recovery, helping me express and process my emotions.
I completed my exams, began improving my health, and saw my parents one last time in May. My attempt to discuss our troubled past with my mother revealed her insincerity, and I ultimately went no contact with both parents. I also ended several friendships that no longer made sense, focusing on a smaller, more supportive circle.
This summer in NYC, I rediscovered myself. I began using my middle name, regained control of my finances, and left the finance industry for good. I spent time exploring the city, reconnecting with my passions, and learning to love my own company.
Through this journey, I’ve learned that being alone isn’t the same as being lonely. It’s a choice, and finding peace in solitude has been liberating. My story is one of resilience and self-discovery, and I’m grateful for the growth that came from facing my past and reclaiming my life.
I found a therapist that understood the effects of untreated BPD and narcissistic parents. The effects are devastating and I saw myself in every article, video, and book. But I was reminded by this that knowledge is power. I now had the resources and tools to deal with this in my own way. I also ended the summer off by going to a Future concert with a good friend and having a great time! As I enter senior year, with a clear plan and path, and future career that I’m so excited to start, I have so much hope. There is always a light at the end of the tunnel.
I am not creating this platform or sharing my experiences to seek pity or sympathy; rather, I’m doing it to raise awareness that, as humans, we have the capacity to endure and grow through even the hardest challenges. While I won’t be going into any more detail about my childhood moving forward, providing context was important, which is why I made this post and episode 4b and ended it off at episode 9. The past is in the past—I’m focused on facing forward and discussing relevant topics. This includes gaining a stable sense of identity, cultivating meaningful connections, and understanding self-respect. I’m also fascinated by current events, so you might see some of that sprinkled in as well! Additionally, I want to bring more attention to undiagnosed neurodiversity, building confidence, making bold career pivots, wellness, and, of course, faith :)
I want to end this post by saying that whoever is reading, you are so incredibly loved. I say this a lot, but it’s so true. You are important, you matter, and you have a purpose. Please know you’re on this Earth for a reason, so continue going on— as Dory would say, just keep swimming. And lastly, faith over fear. Always <3
P.S. Here are the songs I listened to while writing this. I love each of these artists with all of my heart, as they continue to give the courage to share my story.If you’re interested, I have the 4B podcast linked at the bottom of this page where I verbally share my story and testimony.
