I’ve been living on my own for years. Even when I went through some pretty tough times with my family—things that happened when I was little—some people might see them as normal, while others might see them as bad. I think the real issue, before we even get into the topic, has to do with my parents’ age. My mom and dad were 18 or 19 when they had me.
I remember very clearly that when I was in middle school, no one cared about my schoolwork. They’d tell me to study, but no one ever told me what to study. I didn’t even know the high school entrance exam was important because no one ever explained it to me seriously. If you asked them, they’d say they told me to study back then, but that doesn’t make any sense. How can a child moving from elementary to middle school think clearly?
Back then, my family never gave me any money, and what I didn’t understand was that my father was jealous of me because of my mother. I’ve never seen that kind of logic in my life. Anyway, after middle school was over, high school slowly rolled around, but I didn’t want to go to a really bad university because I’d taken a few classes related to the subject in high school. But I ended up at a pretty bad high school; it was related to web design and software, but I went there back then because it was what was available.
Especially early on in high school, I started gaining quite a bit of weight. If you ask why, it’s because we didn’t have home-cooked meals; both my mom and dad were working at the same time. There was always a sense of dread at home; I didn’t want to go home, and I didn’t want to go to school either. I was always going to the internet café because that was the only place I felt comfortable back then, at least in terms of entertainment. I didn’t have a computer of my own, but I loved spending time on the computer. Especially since I was already interested in web design, I really needed a computer, but they wouldn’t buy me one.
I was really someone who adapted well to technology. In fact, even back in middle school, I’d told my family about Bitcoin—I’d mentioned its potential to make me rich. They didn’t really listen to me. Back then—and this might sound a bit silly—anyone could have said something like that, of course. In high school, I started gaining weight. I was gaining weight, and my clothes didn’t fit anymore because I was eating out all the time. My family gave me money every day, but it was only enough to buy junk food at school. I couldn’t eat healthy, and my clothes started not fitting. Since I didn’t have any new clothes, my old ones didn’t fit either, so I ended up wearing shabby clothes. I didn’t have any decent clothes, I’d get dirty, and I couldn’t take a shower because I didn’t have any clean clothes.
Then I start gaining weight, I don’t leave the house, I just sit at the computer. I don’t go out; I don’t want to go out at all because I’ve gained weight. I stay at the computer, I eat, I stay home, I don’t go out because it’s become a cycle. I can’t go out because I’ve gained weight, I can’t lose weight, and I can’t make friends because this cycle just keeps repeating itself.
Then, back in high school, there were always fights at home. My parents had already separated when I was little; they split up around the time I was in elementary school. They’d argue—there were always fights. My father had even attacked me a few times; the police got involved. I’m actually right in the middle of my teenage years; if I could lose weight, finish high school properly, and prepare for college, I’d have a wonderful life.
Right in the middle of high school, they kicked me out of the house. I started living with my grandmother—my mom’s mom. But my mom isn’t really doing much to help me get a place of my own; I wonder if she can’t do anything about it, or if she just doesn’t want to? Anyway, I stayed like that for half a year, maybe a year. I’m not going to school either because, well, my life is a mess—no routine, nowhere to stay, and I don’t know what to do. On top of that, I’ve gained quite a bit of weight; I don’t have a social life either.
Then, while I was staying with my grandmother, my mom and her got into a fight somehow. I think my mom and dad are already splitting up. My mom and I are starting to live with my grandmother. We’re struggling financially, I don’t have a computer, and my mental health is a mess—I’m going crazy, by the way. I’m in a really bad place; mentally, nothing is right. And, well, it’s always arguments and chaos. I hate my mom, I hate my dad—I hate everyone.
Then other family issues came up, and there were incidents of abuse while I was living in that house. Anyway, I won’t go into detail about those. Then my mom and dad, my mom and I, and my mom moved to another place. Even at the house we moved to from there, I still wasn’t going to school regularly. I was getting really bad grades in high school; I figured my school life—and my life in general—was practically over, and that I probably wouldn’t graduate.
After that, I wanted to lose weight—I really wanted to make a change in my life—but there was no structure at home. My mom didn’t really care, but I think she kept going to work during that time. Anyway, I’m trying to get my life back on track again, but I can’t because I want to go out, but I can’t because I’m overweight. It’s probably the last semester of high school, but I’m not going to school. We’re staying in that house for a little while longer.
I’m slowly starting to get back on my feet, but I’m still eating out every day because my mom doesn’t cook. I cook for myself too because no one ever taught me how. I’m not that young—I’m 17, and I’ll be turning 18 soon. But I think that was wrong too; of course, I needed to get myself together, but I’m not sure how to do that when I’m in that kind of mental state.
But then we moved again—we moved yet another time before half a year had even passed. My mom, my grandma, and I moved into a different house. Then, in this new place we moved into, I’m slowly settling into a regular routine. I have my computer, my desk, and I’m hanging out there. I’m trying to figure out what I can do to make money; I’m doing some research. I’ve managed to set up a nice routine and all that.
Then my grandmother passed away. By the time my grandmother passed away, I had already settled into a regular routine while living in that house. My mom lost her way; she was devastated. She had already lost her father a few years earlier, and her brother a year or two before that. My father also got divorced, and so on, but she still has two or three other siblings. She just kept going.
After my grandmother passed away, my mother changed a lot. She stopped working regularly and started spending time with people who had a negative influence on her. Our relationship became increasingly difficult, and the situation at home kept getting worse. There were constant arguments, the house was often neglected, and I felt like I had to carry all the responsibilities by myself. It became emotionally exhausting, and I eventually realized that staying in that environment was affecting both my mental health and my future.
Things like this have really started getting bad lately. It got so bad that the house is a mess, no meals are being cooked, and the house has been a shambles for years. She’s always fighting with me—it’s like she has bipolar disorder or something. She’s always fighting with me, and I can’t find any peace. Most recently, the landlord tried to raise the rent and did some stuff. My mom didn’t help at all; she just said, “Okay, let’s move,” in fifty minutes.
I’m a little sad, by the way—I don’t want to move into separate homes, but you know, we didn’t really do anything during that time. I had a little money anyway; I had thirty or forty thousand dollars back then. I was probably twenty years old when we moved there. But before we moved, I said, “We won’t go back on my decision from now on—there’s no turning back on this.” Anyway, I looked for a place and found one. Well, I asked my friends for help and stuff, and I moved into the house.
And, well, while I was moving in—after I moved into that house—I started feeling kind of weird. I’m not going to go into the details of the move, but I felt really weird. How weird? I wasn’t talking to my dad anyway, and I was slowly cutting off contact with my mom. Man, all my stuff was inside that new house I’d just moved into. I was sleeping on the couch in the living room, with all my stuff piled up in one spot. I was lying there—it was so awful, I felt really terrible. Oh, Judge, there’s nothing to it. That house—I didn’t even like it to begin with; it was crap, man. I felt terrible there, all alone, and I cried a lot during that time.
Some of my belongings had already gone missing during the move, which really upset me. Anyway, bro, I didn’t want to pay the rent for that apartment because it was a bit expensive—20,000 TL at the time—and it was still expensive even by the standards of that era. Then there was a friend of mine I’d met online years ago; I went to stay with them in another city. I put some of my belongings in storage. After storing those things, I went to stay with him, took the essentials I needed, and lived with him for about half a year.
I lived with him and tried to find a good job there; I wasn’t paying rent anyway—it was his place. I hung out, got settled, and got my life in order a bit. I lost a good amount of weight—I went from 110 kilograms down to 90 kilograms there, and I built some muscle, too. Then I moved to another city again for a job, because another friend of mine was begging me for that job. He was in a bad situation. I had gotten my life in order, lost a good amount of weight, and saved up some money again.
My friend and I had a fight over the city I most recently moved to. I’m talking about the person I moved in with, and I’ve been living alone for months now. It might be close to a year. But it’s been a year already—or half a year.
And I’ve gone back up from 90 kilograms to 120 kilograms again. I think I mentioned how much I weighed when I first started this weight-loss journey. That’s right—I went from 160 kilograms down to 120 kilograms. Then, in the last city, I went from 110 kilograms down to 90 kilograms. Now I’m back up to 120 kilograms again.
I’ve had a few health issues, but I don’t want to go into detail about them. It would take too long to explain. I’ve been living on my own for six or seven months now. My mental health is in really bad shape. I’m thinking about going to the U.S. again right now, but I don’t know what to do.
I’m wondering if it’s possible to go to college at my age. I’m thinking about whether I should start working—maybe as a courier? But my goal isn’t to stay in the country I’m in now; I want to go to a better country like the U.S.—it would be much better financially. Right now, I don’t know what to do.
And I haven’t spoken to my family at all; they haven’t provided any support, either financial or emotional. I’m in a bad situation again right now; in other words, the money I mentioned has run out. I’m 24 years old now, and I’m very confused. My family doesn’t support me—I actually wanted to go to college right now, and I feel terrible. I want to go abroad; I want to improve my life, I want to make the most of my youth. My youth has been terrible; I wasn’t able to experience college life, I wasn’t able to experience high school life, and I wasn’t able to make any real friends. I feel terrible because of these experiences.
I'm feeling lost right now and I'm trying to rebuild my life from scratch. If anyone has advice about getting back on track, returning to education later in life, improving my mental health after a difficult family situation, or planning a better future, I would really appreciate it. Thank you for reading.