nicolecunningham.ch

As if I don’t already hate people and want to hide in dark cave with Pablito, I got lit into tonight.

The two people I trustED more than anything in the world essentially have the same discourse: that I’m fat, out of control, can’t handle money, and apparently selfish. I only claim fat and out of control. One of the reasons I moved to Zurich was to create some geography away from some toxic elements in Lausanne and be closer to the people who accept me as I am and treat me like an adult. It took me a while to cut them out, and some branches aren’t completely pruned, which is normal since for most people, the two people who betrayed me and dog me out are usually what most humans call key relationships. And what happens is that if you keep toxic people in your life, your problems will just follow you.

Not to whinge, but it was and is really hard for me to think that the ones who were supposed to know me the best are the ones who tell patent lies about me and denigrate my character. Could you imagine a spouse or a family member reaming you out repeatedly about what a bad person you are? I didn’t have a foundation and I had to start my life over again and I am still not there yet. Add to that living in a foreign country, your best friends being thousands of miles away and not having the most ideal job situation. No more family. No more husband. That really sucked and I didn’t like having to come back from that too much.

Recently, I got my ass busted about a tax bill. One where I was actually in the right but the guilty party insisted on screaming loudly for twenty minutes about how I can’t handle money and don’t know what the hell I am doing, etc. etc. He was completely wrong and either deluded or intentionally lying to save face. Then he added the fat and helpless for good measure. So even when I do something right and good for some people, I’m still a bad fat person who deserves to be screamed at.

I’m a people pleaser, and these people have a perverse way of knowing that disapproval will shatter me. Also, from an Islamic point of view, I have pride about certain things in the religion, so when someone says I did something against Islam (like stealing money, for example), it hurts. Even when it is an outright lie given the context. So they manipulate any situation into how they disapprove or how I somehow did something wrong to hurt them, when the real issue is I called them out on how much they hurt me. If I call you out on how you weren’t there for me when I needed you, don’t come back and spin it that it was because of something I did. I often wonder what my life would be like if I did everything these people say- lost weight, “got my driving license”, cleaned house better…would they shut up? No, they would just find something new to gig me on or dredge up some past bullshit to justify whatever they felt like doing today. I have nothing left to lose now because they took everything away, so I have no problems at this point walking away. But it took two years.

The difference between the Lausanne me and the Zurich me is that the Zurich me no longer has the time or the inclination to put up with this shit. But like all abusive relationships, when you start getting strong, they lay it on real thick to break you. They start telling lies to your other family members about how bad you are.

it wasn’t about taxes, really. The taxes will be fine. And so will I.

Today I was in the train going from Zurich to Lausanne and I fell asleep holding my purse with a death grip (New Orleans in me), but next to me in the aisle seat I had my lunch bag (only my bento and my phone charger).

I woke up in between Fribourg and Lausanne to someone slamming down in the seat next to me where my bento should have been and two other guys in the aisle. I said to him “you’re sitting on my bag” and he said “no, I put it across from you.” This train was empty, he had no reason to sit next to me when he could sit across from me. He had tried to do a walk by with my lunch bag and the lady across the aisle yelled, at which point he threw the bag across and sat next to me as if he “wanted to sit there” and that is when I woke up. He had two friends about two meters away and then he walked off to join them within five seconds of slamming down.

I go to the conductor to tell them that there are a band of pickpockets in this train- he doesn’t speak French (!!!!!!!!! another story for another thread) and told me to go to the people in the train station because at this point we were in Lausanne.

I get off the train and go to the gendarmerie in the train station. I explain my story, say I just want to give a heads-up so if someone comes in with a story from the same train, told them what train it was on and when, and the cop cut me off and asked me where the dudes were from. So I said they were North African kids. At which point I got twenty minutes of how Islam doesn’t respect women or human rights and that cultures are so different and how things have gotten worse lately with the Algerians and the Moroccans but actually the Tunisians are ok because they haven’t learned how to steal yet but a lot of times people beat their wives, especially Yugos and Kosovar men don’t let their wives leave the house and in Muslim cultures men need to be in charge so they steal and Turks are a little weird but ok…I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say and couldn’t get a word in edgewise anyway. That’ll learn me to go talk to cops. I mean, he was extremely friendly and nice and professional, except for the words coming out of his mouth.

How do y’all talk back to stuff like that?

So yeah, anyway, hold on to your bags in those intercity trains.

Divorced Muslim women get treated like damaged goods. Divorced converts get treated worse than dogs. How many of us have stories from the masjid about how, because we are now outlet mall sloppy seconds we are only good in our masajid for being married off to the ex-con, drug addict/mental case, or the dude who needs papers and doesn’t even speak English?

Of course, if we say something about how unfair this all this, at best we get a “beggars can’t be choosy” remark, or at worst we get some platitudes about chaste virgins.

Since the dudes are so picky with me, I am picky with them. Call me unfair, but guess what, my life as a been around the block convert at the bottom of the matrimonial pile IS UNFAIR.

I would prefer a dude with no kids. I don’t have any so there you are. But the one rule I have is I won’t consider a dude with young kids. By young I mean under 3. I’m more likely to consider a dude with 7-9 year old kids, and a dude with kids who are old and out of the house are almost on equal footing with dudes who have no kids. A dude with young kids is pretty much a no-go and the only way to go there would be everything else has to add up and be squeaky clean. This is for several reasons.

1. In a short-ish marriage, you aren’t sure if things aren’t going to work out pretty early on so you protect yourself. Here I am talking about a scenario with a dude who was married a couple years and has a young kid or two. I understand marriages fall apart and being widowed happens and condoms break etc etc, I want to know what a dude’s intentions were (because it takes two to tango) to have children in a less than stable or not fully developed relationship and then leave that relationship before the kids are old enough to even know what family is (again, we are talking about under 3). What implications does that have should he choose to procreate with me?

2. Any dude with young kids who offers up a possible explanation as to why he says he has a “crazy” ex baby momma is suspect for me. This raises two big red flag possibilities: a) he is an abuser and ALL HIS EXES ARE CRAZY AND HE IS PERFECT; b) he is way out on the family interference tip and married a crazy person/had babies with her to placate his family. I have been known to badmouth dude, but I ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS said that what went down was my fault as much as his, and I consistently bring up his qualities and good points (of which he has many, notably his extreme generosity). Give him a ma sha Allah, he has the potential to be a great husband. Point is, when you talk to me, my anger is qualified and nuanced. If a dude thinks his ex baby momma is a “crazy bitch” with no redeeming qualities whatsoever, I’m outta there.

3. Coming from a blended family, I’m not convinced that equal treatment always happens or works in practice. Even when people try their best. I’ve seen it in my own family, where everyone was full of good intentions but it didn’t always translate to reality. Wanting to do the right thing and doing the right thing are two different things. And in case you can’t read between the lines, I’m talking about myself as a step-parent: I’m not confident for myself, much less for other people. I want to know why your marriage was so bad you took the chance on raising your kids with someone else. Or not raising them at all and letting some other dude raise them. More specifically, why are you going to do that to a kid who is too young to even remember what mommy and daddy together is like?

4. Now you will say that I’m speaking in gendered ways and that if you replace dude with chick, I would never say the same thing (a woman with a crazy ex is crazy, etc). Check yourself, because being a baby mommma is different from having a baby momma. Dudes get remarried. Women don’t. Or they do, but to scrubs or FOBs. Women get it shoved down our throats that having children is like ALL OF TEH ISLAMZ AND ZOMG WE ARENT REAL MUSLIMAHS WITHOUT KIDS but then the whole Paradise Beneath Her Feet is bullshit when the dude leaves as far as the community is concerned. Single mothers aren’t revered but men get second and third and fourth chances and leave a string of babies in their wakes. My GREATEST FEAR is being left to carry the can as a single mother of a young child with an absent father and I want to know why a “good Muslim brother” has a baby momma whose chances of getting remarried in the community now are slimmer than mine.

5. People say I am CF. That isn’t true. I identify with some aspects of the CF community. I don’t think having kids is a “human right”- why are you going to bring a human being into this world just to feed your ego’s desire to spread your genes or whatever? I don’t understand what people talk about with this “biological need” to have bio kids. I literally do not understand it because I have never felt that way. I don’t feel like less of a person because I may not have any. I’m not arrogant enough to think I will leave a legacy in this dunya, so leaving a “piece of me” isn’t appealing either. The only thing we take with us to the grave are our good actions. That is just how I am, and that is why I call bullshit any dude who comes at me with the whole spreading his seed biznass. If that is how you feel fine, I can admit that some people “feel the need” even if some people can’t see my POV, but if we disagree on something so fundamental that is a reason in itself not to make babees anyway. I think you make the choice to have kids when you are in a good relationship and a good situation, and those two elements provide a strong foundation for when things go bad financially or personally.

6. Which leads me to another point: I listened to my gut and, at great detriment to me personally, chose not to have kids when I saw my marriage wasn’t stable even though we could have easily financially taken care of several kids. I made that sacrifice even though it now means I may never have kids. Let me say that again: I CHOSE NOT TO HAVE KIDS IN A LESS THAN OPTIMAL MARRIAGE EVEN THOUGH I MAy HAVE SIGNED AWAY MY CHANCES AT BIO CHILDREN. I want to know why a guy was so hell bent on having bio kids- is it because he is a “cultural” Muslim whereby everyone’s worth is based on their ability to procreate? Did his family force him into it? Did his “crazy bitch” ex poke holes in the condoms? What made him make the decision to go ahead and have kids?

7. I’m only 33, why am I talking like I’m pre-menopausal and will never have sex again and never ever be able to have babies? Maybe that is because, as I mentioned above, divorced Muslimahs and divorced convert Muslimahs are at the bottom of the marriage pile. Way to go, Muslim brothers, way to go. Get those virgins and go P, but let’s forget about the divorced sisters. I get why sisters leave Islam after a first failed marriage. I’m not saying it is right, I’m saying the ummah sucks and check yourself before you start blaming ex-Muslims. Anyway, if my first shot at my best marriage didn’t work out, I need to be realistic about my chances here. I’m not saying none of us have ever had a good second marriage. I’m saying that the statistics show my chances with a “good brother” (if I marry within the community) are slim to none and I STILL CHOSE not to have kids with the last one. That, my friends, is commitment to my own personal ideology.

8. Why am I saying under 3 is bad? Because the situation (presence of kids) is so new. What had to happen for a dude to bail like that, or for the sister to bail like that, when the kid is in diapers or barely out of them and not even in school? How bad did it have to be, and why? I’m not saying no plausible excuse exists, and I’ve seen some great guys with older kids in divorce situations but if your kid is just born or barely, I’m scared and want to know why. Scared the same thing will happen to me. Tangentially, the same thing goes for dudes who go P. I’m disgusted by men with young children or pregnant wives who are “dying to fulfill the sunnah.” Um, don’t you think you should be focusing on your first family? I do, and I am judging you in private. And in public.

I get that relationships fail and sometimes it isn’t “anybody’s fault”, or sometimes good things fall apart in spectacular ways. I’m living proof. But kids add another factor to the equation where I start asking questions about the dude’s decision-making, motivations for having kids, and coping skills. Like I said above, I also think you owe it to your unborn to make sure you know exactly what the hell is going on when you bring a child into the world. Of course, the time is “never right” to have kids and if “some people applied that logic no one would ever have kids” yadda yadda yadda. I’m not willing to take that chance. The dunya is such that finances change, marriages change, but there is a difference between coping with a shitty situation -car accident, unemployment, late infidelity, y’all just don’t like each other anymore- and making a poor decision from the get-go, e.g. in a marriage where things were never right.

So yes brothers, y’all judge me. I’m judging you. And Allah knows best

It took me a month to find my current apartment (or six weeks depending on how you do the math), and it was the first one I visited. I’m SO HAPPY. It isn’t in town, but it has good bus and rail connections (am a half-hour max from downtown Zurich at any time) and the price is right AND I have a balcony big enough for a table.

Can I rant? After crossing the Rostigraben twice, I don’t think people here in Zurich realize how bad the housing situation in Romandie is for lower incomes and foreigners. In the past eight years I have looked for apartments twice in Lausanne and twice in Zurich. In Lausanne, three months of hustling (3+ visits a week) got me one place in the boonies, and one place that was a dodgy sublet. In Zurich, six weeks of halfhearted searching (including a couple of fun racist episodes) got me two legit places in decent locations which met most of my criteria.

It can be argued that the suburb where I live now isn’t exactly the most happening place and that is why I got my new apartment so easily, which is precisely what I mean: in Zurich, lower income people, L permit people, brown people etc, have the luxury of turning their noses up at a place in the burbs and saying “oh no, I wanna live in town.” In Romandie you have to take what you can get after months of looking and you have to spread your geographic net wide- I can’t think of how any desperate Geneva couch surfer would spit on a legit place in Versoix, or someone looking in Lausanne who would say no to Prilly. Yet people in Zurich can still work under the assumption that getting the dream apartment is possible.

I was in a train headed for Munich when I heard the news. The curse of the expat is that no matter where you are, you are always too far away or otherwise in the wrong place when it comes to any major family event. My uncle had died and I had no one to turn to. I don’t think there is anything that has ever made me feel more alone than being in that packed train going to a strange city and realizing that he was gone.

The next morning I made it through my meeting (or so I thought, but apparently not, people lie, another story for another time) and went back to my hotel and cried. I’ve been a zombie ever since, stuck in survival mode. My grief is different in that for the past several weeks I didn’t give myself permission to feel and some would argue I didn’t have the time. Now it is all coming back to me.

I have had two family members die since the last time I went to the United States. So I am in this state of suspended disbelief where in my mind I can just pretend that they are there and I am here. But they aren’t there any more and aren’t coming back, and that makes me very sad. Losing them I am also losing pieces of my personal landscape. New Orleans, already scarred by Katrina, loses even more place in my memory with the loss of the people in it who were important to me. The truth is that I can never go back to what it used to be for me. I can never go back to my childhood. I can never go back.

I know I am one of the lucky ones. I got to speak to my uncle and say proper goodbyes. Not everyone is granted that. Some would say that he was in ill health and leaving was a blessing for him. But selfishly I want him back. I know he knew when he died that I loved him. My regret is that he didn’t know how much.

I have accepted a job outside of Zug.

In August 2005, I was quite sad to leave our tiny apartment in Kreis 4 for Lausanne. Now in August 2011 I will make the trip back alone in the other direction, this time to Zug.. After six years in Lausanne, I can’t say I am as sad. In fact, moving to Zug (or more precisely, outside of Zug) makes me feel like the weight of the world has floated off my shoulders and far, far away where I can no longer touch it. Tangible problems I was worried about literally vaporized in the space of 24 hours.

While I have been blessed with some very good Lausanne-based friends and a sprinkling of good memories, my time in Lausanne was quite trying and was more often than not very painful. It got to the point where the good could no longer outweigh the bad. And it shows. My diminished demeanor, the weight gain and assorted health problems, and an overall sense of anxiety I could never completely shake off. Lausanne had turned into a bad boyfriend for me, one I wasn’t really happy with but I didn’t want to admit wasn’t the one for me.

Yet I am still reticent to leave and dive completely into a new life across the Röstigraben. I finally now have my “own apartment” in Lausanne (no small feat in this rental market), I don’t know what to do about my taxes, and I don’t know what to do about the seemingly endless separation/divorce procedure. So I am holding on to one of my apartments in Lausanne until December and hoping for the best. Maybe 2012 will be my year. Even though I said that about 2011 too.

I have learned a lot about myself over the past six years in Lausanne, especially in the last two. I have learned that I’m not that nice, I just don’t tell people what I really think. I have learned that my tolerance for bullshit is, in consequence, a lot lower as well. I have learned I no longer have the time or patience for one-sided friendships or relationships or those in which I am judged unfairly. I have learned that I am the one who has the best ideas on how to live my life.

On a lighter note, I’m looking forward to living somewhere FLAT and riding my bike (Lausanne= San Francisco of Europe). When I am not on my bike, I will love love LOVE the excellent public transport in that part of Switzerland. I’m looking forward to being closer to friends who were far away. I’m looking forward to no longer being subject to France-French corporate culture and office politics. I’m looking forward to learning more German. Most of all, I’m looking forward to having a chance at a job where I have a real mandate and purpose.

But all those happy thoughts are on hold because I am even MORE excited about Ramadan next week. I feel so blessed right now and spiritually ready to face the coming month.