This could either go really well or I'll be on the first plane to Somaliland tomorrow.
Here is the final draft of the letter I wrote to my Baabo [aka. Aabo or Dad] three days after we had our weekly argument. Things have been really tense between us since I left school. We can't communicate our positions effectively unless one of us screaming (him) or crying (me).
So since this is clearly not healthy, I cleanly explained my position in a email. As you will soon see, this is not the rough draft. The original was written with many bad words and many dried tears. This is the cleaned up version. Maybe I'll share the original later.
Enjoy. And tell me what you think.
I think I shared too much on this damn blog. But I don't care anymore.
Hi (As-salama alaikum) Baabo,
If I said I wanted to be a writer then I should write, right? Here, I wanted to write to you.
I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I am sorry I almost made you cry. I'm sorry I couldn't fulfill your dreams for me. I'm sorry I said I wanted to be a doctor when I was three. I’m sorry I don’t talk to you the way I used to.
This situation is not anybody's fault. The blame is mine. I know you had high hopes for me. I have disappointed you, the whole family and myself.
I’m not going to assume what you are thinking. Because I also can’t seem to describe how I felt during college due to my previous failed explanations. Let me try one last time. I graduated a valedictorian but I don’t feel like one. I remember you said you were proud of me when I graduated Lynn Tech. I am afraid you won’t ever say it again if I continue to go on getting bad grades and being depressive. I took a break from failing to try to win at something.
You are right. I am full of excuses. It might be because you and Hooyo always want straight answers and I don't have any to give sometimes. It’s like when I used to tell you “I don’t know” and you would get mad at me. I never wanted to appear uncertain in front of you again, so I might have promised you and Hooyo empty things because I panic when you ask me scary questions I don’t have the answer to yet.
Why do you keep saying that I can hate you if I don't like myself, or I graduate unhappy, or if my life doesn't go the way I planned? I couldn’t hate you even if I tried! That’s impossible. You brought me into the world and raised me. All I truly learned was from you.
You helped me become an adult with helping me make my back account, getting my first job, my first computer, even getting into college itself was a great thing. Let me say thank you for all the things you did that helped me become who I am today. Thank you for introducing to music with the radio. Thank you buying me books, notebooks, and sketchbooks as Eid gifts. Thank you for buying movies and watching TV with us where we laughed and hang out as a family. Thank you for teaching me the Quran. Thank you for teaching the difference between right and wrong according to Islam and Somali values. Thank you for answering my questions. I love you. Please don’t tell me to hate you.
Our entire family is creative, artistic, literary, and linguistic. To picture your daughter not becoming a writer or doing anything creative would be difficult. But now I understand it was because there was no set path to become a writer that you could see like there was a set path to being a medical professional. You could never let me pursue writing because there was no real benefit that came out of it. I understand now that you were simply choosing the best path for me, but it was of your design, not mine. How could I force my true wishes onto you, when we already constructed a plan for a career with a steady income and job security?
When you started talking about your parents before, I started to cry because you and Hooyo didn’t have good relationships with your parents. You are only doing your best with what you were given in life. But you were given me first. And I became an unpredictable responsibility.
I know I’ve had more opportunities in America than you’ve ever had. But I’m not proud of my accomplishments because I don’t feel like I have accomplished important anything yet. Please let me try this first. It might appear lazy and stupid to you, but I am doing things. I’m trying to see if people like my writing. I want to see if I can actually sell it and make money from it.
Even if you don’t understand my “Hollywood” or “Show Business” stuff, please don’t take your frustration out on Muna and Yahya, because then all bridges of communications will be torn down. Please don't make my mistakes became Muna and Yahya's mistake. They're not as fragile as I am. Please focus on more on Muna and Yahya. Not as another me, but as their own individual personalities. They will be better than me, more than I ever could.
From now until the beginning of the fall semester, let me experiment. I won't have results right away. In order to not become distracted and lose my confidence, I need to practice. I need encouragement. I need support. I want to make you of me proud again. I don’t want to make you worry anymore. If I take this time to gather my thoughts about my future plans, I think I will get better grades in the fall semester and later on. I want to finish my degree cleanly and without any bad feelings.
I hope you can understand what I’ve said and take it in a positive way.
I love you and Hooyo and Muna and Yahya,
Here is the final draft of the letter I wrote to my Baabo [aka. Aabo or Dad] three days after we had our weekly argument. Things have been really tense between us since I left school. We can't communicate our positions effectively unless one of us screaming (him) or crying (me).
So since this is clearly not healthy, I cleanly explained my position in a email. As you will soon see, this is not the rough draft. The original was written with many bad words and many dried tears. This is the cleaned up version. Maybe I'll share the original later.
Enjoy. And tell me what you think.
I think I shared too much on this damn blog. But I don't care anymore.
Hi (As-salama alaikum) Baabo,
If I said I wanted to be a writer then I should write, right? Here, I wanted to write to you.
I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I am sorry I almost made you cry. I'm sorry I couldn't fulfill your dreams for me. I'm sorry I said I wanted to be a doctor when I was three. I’m sorry I don’t talk to you the way I used to.
This situation is not anybody's fault. The blame is mine. I know you had high hopes for me. I have disappointed you, the whole family and myself.
I’m not going to assume what you are thinking. Because I also can’t seem to describe how I felt during college due to my previous failed explanations. Let me try one last time. I graduated a valedictorian but I don’t feel like one. I remember you said you were proud of me when I graduated Lynn Tech. I am afraid you won’t ever say it again if I continue to go on getting bad grades and being depressive. I took a break from failing to try to win at something.
You are right. I am full of excuses. It might be because you and Hooyo always want straight answers and I don't have any to give sometimes. It’s like when I used to tell you “I don’t know” and you would get mad at me. I never wanted to appear uncertain in front of you again, so I might have promised you and Hooyo empty things because I panic when you ask me scary questions I don’t have the answer to yet.
Why do you keep saying that I can hate you if I don't like myself, or I graduate unhappy, or if my life doesn't go the way I planned? I couldn’t hate you even if I tried! That’s impossible. You brought me into the world and raised me. All I truly learned was from you.
You helped me become an adult with helping me make my back account, getting my first job, my first computer, even getting into college itself was a great thing. Let me say thank you for all the things you did that helped me become who I am today. Thank you for introducing to music with the radio. Thank you buying me books, notebooks, and sketchbooks as Eid gifts. Thank you for buying movies and watching TV with us where we laughed and hang out as a family. Thank you for teaching me the Quran. Thank you for teaching the difference between right and wrong according to Islam and Somali values. Thank you for answering my questions. I love you. Please don’t tell me to hate you.
Our entire family is creative, artistic, literary, and linguistic. To picture your daughter not becoming a writer or doing anything creative would be difficult. But now I understand it was because there was no set path to become a writer that you could see like there was a set path to being a medical professional. You could never let me pursue writing because there was no real benefit that came out of it. I understand now that you were simply choosing the best path for me, but it was of your design, not mine. How could I force my true wishes onto you, when we already constructed a plan for a career with a steady income and job security?
When you started talking about your parents before, I started to cry because you and Hooyo didn’t have good relationships with your parents. You are only doing your best with what you were given in life. But you were given me first. And I became an unpredictable responsibility.
I know I’ve had more opportunities in America than you’ve ever had. But I’m not proud of my accomplishments because I don’t feel like I have accomplished important anything yet. Please let me try this first. It might appear lazy and stupid to you, but I am doing things. I’m trying to see if people like my writing. I want to see if I can actually sell it and make money from it.
Even if you don’t understand my “Hollywood” or “Show Business” stuff, please don’t take your frustration out on Muna and Yahya, because then all bridges of communications will be torn down. Please don't make my mistakes became Muna and Yahya's mistake. They're not as fragile as I am. Please focus on more on Muna and Yahya. Not as another me, but as their own individual personalities. They will be better than me, more than I ever could.
From now until the beginning of the fall semester, let me experiment. I won't have results right away. In order to not become distracted and lose my confidence, I need to practice. I need encouragement. I need support. I want to make you of me proud again. I don’t want to make you worry anymore. If I take this time to gather my thoughts about my future plans, I think I will get better grades in the fall semester and later on. I want to finish my degree cleanly and without any bad feelings.
I hope you can understand what I’ve said and take it in a positive way.
I love you and Hooyo and Muna and Yahya,
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