Dear Mrs. Bluth,
Two weeks ago, I ran away from home. Please understand, I am not a wayward teen or addled young adult, I am a 43-year-old man who reached his breaking point and can no longer live with his elderly parents.
All my life, my parents doted on me and when I started shidduch dating, as far they were concerned, no one was good enough, pretty enough or smart enough for their “tzaddikel.” My friends all married while I sat waiting for the “right one” to come along, someone who would meet with my parents’ approval. My friends had children and made simchas, while I watched the years slip by. Eventually, shaddchanim stop calling thinking there was something wrong with me mentally or that I was gay.
Nothing could be further from the truth. However, I have come very close to having a nervous breakdown as I realized there was nothing more to my life than changing my father’s diapers, suctioning, and spoonfeeding my mother and having to put up with their constant demands and incoherent babble.
In the clarity of a single moment I understood that they have robbed me of a life with any kind of happiness, just to satisfy their own selfish needs. That my three older sisters escaped this fate is to their credit and I now understand why they have distanced themselves from my parents and seldom visit. As envious as I am of them, I am also extremely happy that they got to marry, have children and experience love and happiness. In the same breath, I am a dead man walking. Two weeks ago as I was feeding my father, he began yelling at me for not being quick enough with the spoon. It was the final straw. I threw it on the floor, stood up, walked into my room, packed a few things and walked out the door as my mother wailed behind me not to leave. I was at the point of no return.
I don’t remember driving, but I have recollections of getting on the plane that took me to an old friend’s house in California. Both he and his wife graciously invited me to stay with them as long as I wanted. They have been so kind to me, clearly seeing the awful state I was in.
Over the past few weeks, as I rested and mended mentally, emotionally and physically, a strong sense of guilt has invaded my new found freedom. On the one hand, I finally realize that I can enjoy spending time with other people and have found a sense of self-worth I have never experienced before. I know that I am worthy of all the blessings and joys others have attained and that, perhaps, there is still a chance for me to find a life-partner. Yet, visions of my parents hound me and threaten to obliterate all that I have accomplished. My conscience reminds me that I left them alone, unattended and that they may have suffered life-threatening situations since I walked out. What if they needed to be hospitalized or even, G-d forbid, that one or both of them died and I wasn’t there?
I am afraid to call them, if that’s what you’re thinking – afraid that I will be guilted into going back, terrified in fact. I can’t do this anymore, day in and day out. My friend and his wife have been wonderful and empathetic but remind me that I must make the decisions for myself. In truth, though, I don’t think I can. Please help me sort this out before I lose my mind.
