Family Ties

I grew up as a coddled child. When I think of my childhood, I see my mom bundling me up in layer after layer before I left the house so I wouldn’t get cold. I remember my grandma making all kinds of delicious snacks for me after school in case I came home hungry, and my grandparents coming over to help my parents when I got sick. While this might have something to do with me being the only child in the family – no first cousins or siblings to share the spotlight – I think it has more to do with being raised in a Turkish family. As I grew up and got to know people from other backgrounds, it became more apparent to me that one of the biggest differences we often had was how close we were to our families. I don’t mean to generalize here; every family is unique and has a story. But for most Turkish kids that I know, it’s expected that we stay at our parents’ home until we get married or find a job we feel secure in. It’s very natural for your mom to come visit you several times a week to cook for you, or for your dad to stop by to wait for your delivery when you have a meeting. You call your grandparents pretty often, and they’re always delighted to see you (and you’ve always lost weight – “oh dear, are you eating enough?”). Coming from a family this close-knit, it was a huge adjustment for me to go to college in another country. I was okay during the first week because my parents had come to help me settle in. Those first days went just as expected: with my mom worrying if I had enough towels and my dad trying to set up my TV. For some reason it didn’t hit me that they would leave at one point and it would be just me for a while. So, it’s safe to say I didn’t take it well when the time came for them to leave. It didn’t help that I was having trouble making friends while it seemed like everyone around me had already found a solid friend group in the one week we’d been at Syracuse. I tried talking to my friends who were also studying abroad, but they seemed to be adjusting well. The more I compared our experiences the worse I felt. Talking to my friends in Turkey didn’t help either since it just reinforced that alienating feeling I had. I felt detached from everything around me, I couldn’t focus on my classes, and I started to spend more time holed up in my room, until one day I had my first panic attack. Having to go through those few weeks of panic attacks and anxiety away from my family was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. After a distressing few weeks, my parents and I decided the best thing for me to do would be to go back home, at least for the time being. I spent that time healing myself, and decided that I would try again – this time truly prepared. I knew that I owed it to myself to learn how to stand on my own two feet and reclaim my life. Ultimately, my family’s unending support and understanding helped me get back on my feet. The open communication we had because of our closeness was the most important thing that got me through those rough couple of months. Through the course of several family meetings, we discussed different paths we could take. I saw that they were going to support me no matter what I decided to do. Being an only child, I had always strived for perfection to make my family and myself proud, so not being able to adapt to college as quickly as other people had felt like failure. I worked through that feeling of failure and fortunately my parents helped me understand that I always had a home I could return to. This experience made me look back on my roots and figure out a healthy way to be connected to my family. Now, as I’m finishing up my sophomore year, I can see that I was never actually alone, that there were many other people around me who were going through similar things. I have met so many amazing people here who I’m glad to call friends, and I’m very happy that I decided to give myself another chance.