Every time I say it out loud, people assume the same thing.
They think I’m “too picky.”
Too cold.
Too difficult.
The truth is very different.
As long as I can remember, my mother decided that her life’s mission was to “protect me from the world.” But deep down, I’ve always known it wasn’t really about me.
It was about her fear.
I Grew Up in a House Where Everything Was a Sin
Going out with friends.
Youth gatherings at church.
Even casual conversations with boys from school.
Everything was dangerous. Everything was wrong.
My mother was always there — literally.
She walked me to the classroom door.
Showed up unannounced to “check on me” in the middle of the day.
Went through my notebooks to see if a boy had written something to me.
There was no space where I was just myself.
While Other Girls Were Growing Up, I Was Standing Still
At 15, other girls talked about dresses, music, parties.
I didn’t attend a single celebration.
My mother said “those things” were for lost people.
She insisted God was protecting me “for something bigger.”
And I quietly watched my life become smaller.
My First Attempt at Independence
At 18, I tried.
A classmate from university invited me for coffee so we could study together. Nothing romantic. Just coffee.
When I came home, my mother already knew.
The doorman had called her. He was “under instructions.”
That same evening, she made me throw away my SIM card and took my computer away for a month.
I never accepted another invitation.
That young man later switched groups — just to avoid trouble.
My Appearance Became Another Cage
Over time, I realized something else.
My looks were just another tool to keep me close.
I was never what people would call “beautiful.” And my mother often said that was “for the best.”
“Men only bring problems.”
“No one will ever love you the way you deserve.”
I grew up feeling like my body itself was an excuse for my isolation.
I’m 33 Now
I work.
I’m responsible.
And I still live with my mother.
She says the house is big.
She says I shouldn’t leave her alone.
But the truth is simpler — I never learned how to live without her.
I had chances.
A neighbor who wrote to me a few times.
A colleague who tried to get closer.
A distant relative who wanted to introduce me to someone.
I always pulled away.
Because I don’t even know how to act around a man.
Things I’ve Never Experienced
No one has ever held my hand.
No one has ever said “I like you.”
I’ve never been on a real date.
Not because I didn’t want to.
But because I was never allowed to want.
And This Is the Part That Hurts the Most
People think I chose this life.
They don’t see the quiet control.
The constant supervision.
The fear that was planted so early that it now feels like my own.
I’m not lonely because no one wanted me.
I’m lonely because I was taught that closeness was dangerous.
And now, at 33, I’m standing in front of a world I was never allowed to practice living in.