Toxic relationships

How I realized what was also affecting my mental health

I was baffled by the idea that someone could be toxic for me. It wasn’t until years of therapy that I realized how toxic relationships have affected my mental health.

As an African child, I take pride in our family values. Respect, honor and dignity are integral to our Nigerian household and I made sure I carried myself well enough to meet my family’s high standards.

Go to school. Work Hard. Study. Respect your elders. Listen to your father. Honor your mother. Take care of your sister. Reach out. Don't stay out late. Don’t date. Get married. Cook dinner for the family. Keep God First.

I followed their rules like it was the law. I was the golden child, rarely defiant, always compliant, and very reliable.

I can honestly say I tried. I got good grades, went to college, never dated, respected my parents and my elders and would do anything that was asked of me at the drop of the hat. I will run errands for my dad whether it was getting him a bottle of water at 2 am at night or taking him to the DMV to get his license reinstated. I followed my grandmother to her cancer treatments at the hospital. I went grocery shopping, did household chores and literally became an unpaid home health aide for my grandparents.

But the more I did, the more it wasn’t enough. I got tired. I didn’t feel like being sent by my dad to take off his shoe, followed by grandma to boil rice and then my grandad to get him Hennessy from the store.

I was tired of being used as a golfer. I started saying no and not doing things. It took me longer to wash the dishes and cook a meal. I didn’t feel like answering my grandma every five minutes she needed something. I wasn’t as eager to jump up and run an errand for my dad. I started locking my bedroom door so no one will barge in on my solitude and ask me for something. I wore my headphones and listened to music very loudly so I wouldn’t hear someone call my name. I limited my time with family because my energy was depleted from being around them.

I was worn out. I felt stuck. What bothered me more was that all my efforts to please them was never enough. I could never make them happy. My mom will compare me to other people’s children. “You see she does everything without complaining”. “Oh, she is such a wonderful daughter and is so helpful to her mom”. “Oh, look at this young man, he does everything his daddy asks without being told” I was often reminded when I didn’t cook or failed to do a chore. My mom will say “it’s not good enough, Tammy”.

I would tell her I am trying and she would say “it’s still not good enough.” Every time, I heard that statement what I actually heard was “I am not good enough”. I felt like I was being taken for granted. My needs weren’t important. I had none. Why else would I be doing everything every single member of my family wanted? Herein lies the problem, I did have needs. I wanted to be respected the same way I respected my parents. I wanted my cousins to reach out to me as much as I reached out to them. I wanted my ever so loving yet incredibly demanding family to return a favor. I wanted so much but yet I demanded so little. During this time, I learned how incredibly difficult it is to establish boundaries, especially with those you love. I didn’t want my mom to comment on me not doing the dishes. I didn’t want my grandma to barge into my room while I was having a nap and ask me to boil rice. I wanted peace of mind.

I escaped or so I thought. My plan was to do my master’s abroad. It sounded like a good plan to give my head some space and finally figure out what I actually wanted to do with my life. I felt like I had no career plan because I spent most of my time trying to please my family. I applied to grad school in Belgium. As soon as I was accepted, I was out. I soon realize that doing a master’s program to escape from home wasn’t the brightest idea. I didn’t really prepare to do my masters as it was just a quick solution in trying to please the family as well as escape from them. At the start of the semester, I was overwhelmed. The readings were dense and heavily loaded with jargon I wasn’t familiar with. After all, I was studying human rights law without any legal background. Though I was away from my family, my mind never really left. I continued setting very high expectations for myself, which made me feel inept and defeated. My mom’s words “it’s not good enough” echoed in my head even when she wasn’t around to say it. I felt my chicken stew wasn’t spicy enough. I felt that my house wasn’t clean enough. My school work wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t working hard enough. The word “enough” seemed superficial but yet had so much meaning. It contextualized everything into absolutely nothing.

I had been seeing a therapist because of anxiety and depression for quite a few years, which it was pointed out that my environment was toxic. I brushed it off as I thought it was mere cultural differences and expectations. However, as my mental health took a turn for the worse, I started to consider it. I started recollecting the times I was told I was a failure. It became easier to recall when my dad told me that my whole life was nonsense. I realized my trip to Senegal to watch over my 9-year-old cousin who has a conduct disorder wasn’t really a wish for my family but an expectation. After landing a job as a teacher in a charter school, I realized how difficult it was to survive in a toxic environment. A toxic home and a toxic work environment, the cycle seemed to repeat. If it wasn’t at home, I was at work given feedback on how I wasn’t firm enough with the kids and how their hands weren’t folded while I was teaching. I guess one had to come to an end. I was terminated for failing to meet the high expectations of the school. I felt defeated. Not only had I failed at my job but also at a home. I was good at nothing and could please no one.

It never occurred to me to please myself so I continued the cycle for a little while.

Shortly after losing my job, I was sent to Senegal to watch over my cousin. My uncle had to travel for work for a month and needed someone to watch over his son while he was away. My mom volunteered my grandma and me to do the job, which we both accepted. Though I was quite reluctant, I went as I thought how harmful could it be plus I needed a vacation and it seemed like a break. As naïve as it sounds, I thought I would have some peace of mind. Wrong, once again. My mom wanted me to volunteer for an ngo while I was there. I woke my cousin up every morning. I sometimes prepared his meals. I watched over him when he came from school and made sure he did his homework. I guess I put my teaching skills to use as I tried to discipline the way I was taught from the charter school I worked in. Every day, after he left for school. I went to volunteer at ngo that worked with children. It didn’t feel right. It wasn’t quite what I wanted. However, it got me out of the house and my grandma out of my ear. My grandma became frustrated with the fact that she was at home alone and couldn’t speak the language. also needed space. I wanted to do something for myself. However, at every angle no matter what route I took, someone wasn’t satisfied.

I now fully understand how both my environment and relationships affected my mental health and I am working on establishing healthy boundaries with those I love.