“If you go through with this, Anthony will end up dropping out of school and doing drugs.”
We have an older cousin in my family, who has credentials in psychology from a school that is unranked and questionably accredited.
Semblances of power, illusion of intelligence.
When my mom separated from my violent father, his side of the family—mostly the women—held a congregation about how to move forward with the situation.
I wasn’t there myself, but heard through others how events unfolded.
Most people saw my mom in the wrong—because women don’t divorce their husbands. Especially Armenian women, and especially Armenian women in our family. It wasn’t just taboo, it was disgusting. It was a stain on her life that would remain immortalized through twisted agendas and sinister manipulation of detail.
The women in that room flattened my mom.
The saddest thing is that my mom’s mom had done a fantastic job in lowering her self-esteem all her life.
20 years of abuse from her mother.
17 years of abuse from her husband.
This congregation functioned to remind my mom the things she has heard all her life:
She’s an idiot.
I knew from the earliest moments in my childhood that both sides of my family had issues. Some clearly severe and some mellow—like a soft consistent current only sometimes washing over you unexpectedly.
But my focus on this life going forward had nothing to do with me. My focus had been on my mom and sister.
The purpose of this congregation was to determine, to some capacity, the family’s jurisdiction over her own children. Without the courts. It was to tell her that she couldn’t take the kids. It was to remind her that she’s an idiot, and her kids belong to her husband, whether she divorces or not.
And then, the last few words as a reminder of what would happen to me.
If my mom did this, and ended her relationship with her husband, that I would end up on the streets, homeless, on drugs, without direction—probably dead.
A reminder to an already confused 37 year old soul, filled with mixed messages all her life.
My mom hasn’t really known to make a stand for much in her life.
To this day, I feel like if I don’t shield her from disgusting people in my own family, they’ll consume her on the spot.
That if I don’t shield her from her own mother, she’d be tossed to the wolves yesterday.
But that year was different.
She ended her abusive relationship with my father.
We ended up in a tiny apartment in the San Fernando Valley.
Me and my little sister both ended up attending UC Berkeley, and we both ended up in great careers.
My little sister even graduated from college a year early, and traveled Europe for 4 months each summer.
We didn’t become drug addicts.
We didn’t become homeless.
We absolutely struggled. We had really bad days.
We overcame.
I became the opposite of what my cousin had in mind.
Hell, I don’t even smoke or drink.
While I wouldn’t wish my path on anybody else, it didn’t isolate me from the world. It opened me up to love and ultimately catapulted me to succeed.
Her words motivated me, not because I was ever going to become a drug addict, but because it hilariously represents how detached some of my family members are from actual reality.
I’ve always known who I was. I’ve always known how loved I am by my mom and sister.
The whole situation gave me insight.
You can’t teach perspective. Two people looking at the same thing can conclude two diametrically opposite things.
Overhearing those words taught me that you can’t fight reality into someone’s mind.
Sometimes, the contingency of your success requires you to leave your current environment permanently.
-Anthony Andranik
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