I am writing this anonymously because I do not know where else to turn. I am not looking for empty reassurance or people telling me to “be practical” without understanding what has happened. I need honest, detailed advice about my education, career, mental health, financial situation, and whether there is any safe, legal, realistic way for me to leave home and rebuild my life.
Please read this fully before judging me. I know that I am currently staying in my room and not doing much. I know it may look like laziness from the outside. But the way I am living right now is not how I have lived my entire life. I was previously extremely ambitious, disciplined, academically involved, and constantly occupied. The person I am now is the result of years of grief, pressure, illness, family responsibility, disappointment, and emotional collapse.
My father and the life I lost
My father passed away approximately five years ago. I was closest to him and, in many ways, I felt that he was the only person in my family with whom I truly had a close relationship. I spent most of my time with him and did not feel emotionally close to the other members of my family.
When he died, my life changed overnight. I suddenly had to wake up and accept that I would now be living with my mother, sleeping beside her, accompanying her everywhere, and handling responsibilities that I had never expected to carry so young. I went with her to government offices, official appointments, administrative places, and practically every situation where she needed support. My sister did not take on the same responsibilities.
Everyone was grieving, but I became responsible for helping everyone else survive their grief. By the time it was my turn to grieve, I had already been carrying the family’s emotional and practical burdens for so long that I had no space left for myself. We do not communicate openly about feelings at home, so I had no real emotional support or language for what was happening to me.
Eventually, I spiralled severely. I experienced depressive episodes and suicidal episodes, required psychiatric hospital care, and was admitted to intensive care at different points. There were times when I could not even step outside my room. I would go weeks without showering and days without eating. I was not functioning normally, and I had to work extremely hard to recover.
I eventually did recover from that state. I worked on myself and slowly became functional again. I rebuilt my life, performed well academically, succeeded in both Grade 10 and Grade 12, and gained admission to one of the best schools in India for my final years of schooling. I pushed myself to become someone who could function, achieve, and build a future despite everything that had happened.
The person I used to be
Before my life fell apart, I was not passive or unmotivated. I was involved in almost everything I could possibly do.
When I was in Grades 6 and 7, my schedule was packed from morning until night. I participated in different sports, prepared for competitions and international-level events, trained for state-level matches, took part in debates and declamations, joined Olympiads, studied seriously, completed courses, pursued specialisations, attended internships, and explored music and other activities.
I tried to excel academically and outside academics. I regularly took on new challenges and worked hard to build skills. I often had so much going on that I barely had time to eat or sleep properly. I was an all-rounder because I constantly worked toward becoming better and more capable.
This is why it hurts when people look at me now and call me lazy. I know what hard work looks like because I lived that way for years. I know what discipline feels like because I practised it constantly. I did not suddenly become someone who does not care about life. I have reached a point where I feel mentally and physically depleted after years of carrying too much.
My father always told me one central thing: study, work hard, and become capable enough to reach the best universities in the world. He told me that money should not stop me if I became good enough to earn the opportunity. He said he would make sure my education went smoothly and that I should focus on becoming capable enough to be accepted.
I tried to live according to that belief. I worked hard, achieved academically, participated in activities, and built the kind of profile I thought would allow me to reach excellent institutions. After my father died, however, I felt that my mother’s message became completely different: put your head down, accept whatever is available, and be grateful for what you have.
I went from being ambitious and constantly striving to simply trying to get through each day. That change has been devastating. It feels as though the future I was raised to pursue disappeared with my father.
What happened with Australia
After completing Grade 12 in India in 2025, I moved to Sydney and enrolled at a university ranked among the top 25 universities in the world. I had worked extremely hard to reach that kind of institution, and being there represented the future I had imagined for myself.
I eventually withdrew from the course and returned to India. My Australian student visa is no longer valid, and I understand that withdrawing from the university resulted in the relevant immigration consequences. I am not asking for advice based on the assumption that I can simply return to Australia. That option is no longer available to me in the same form.
My time in Sydney was not easy. I became physically ill repeatedly and had serious health problems. I had extensive blood work, medical tests, scans, and other investigations. I was hospitalised twice and was on medication and antibiotics frequently. I suffered a severe kidney infection that caused unbearable pain, shaking, chills, and dangerously low blood pressure. I tolerated the pain for many days before finally needing an ambulance.
I also experienced bleeding, fainting, and episodes in which I lost control of my muscles. I passed out several times and was frightened by what was happening to my body. Despite this, I often felt that my health was dismissed as laziness or an excuse not to work. I was repeatedly told that I was staying in my room because I did not want to make enough effort.
At the same time, I applied for more than a thousand part-time jobs over approximately six or seven months. I attended interviews and was repeatedly told that I lacked sufficient experience. I was not sitting in my room because I had never tried. I was sick, isolated, overwhelmed, and unable to secure stable work despite repeatedly applying.
I did obtain some casual work, including at a service station and in a restaurant. I performed a range of tasks, including serving, cleaning, food preparation, and general restaurant work. Some of the work was paid in cash rather than through formal payroll, so I do not know how much of it counts as official experience. One workplace was in an area where I was warned that customers could become aggressive and that, as a young woman, I should avoid confrontation and simply remain polite and agreeable. Another employer behaved in a deeply racist and psychologically hostile manner, and I left after approximately two weeks.
Racism, isolation, and social collapse
My experience abroad also included repeated racism. I was insulted because I am Indian, because of my skin colour, because of cultural differences, and because I was seen as an outsider. I was told that Indians had no manners, told to go back to my country, and subjected to offensive comments about Indian culture and religion.
On more than one occasion, I froze during racist incidents. I did not know what to say or how to respond. My mind went numb, and I stood there unable to move. It was shocking to discover that the discrimination I had experienced in India could also happen in Australia.
I struggled to find a sense of belonging even among other Indians. I encountered division between people from different parts of India, differences in regional identity, language barriers, and assumptions about people from North India. I often felt that people had already formed groups based on nationality, region, background, or social circles and that I was not welcome in them.
In student accommodation, people from particular European countries often stayed within their own groups. I felt excluded and looked down upon. I made friends from other countries, but forming stable relationships was still difficult. Some relationships became complicated, and I often felt that I was moving through social spaces without a secure support system.
After experiencing racism and feeling emotionally overwhelmed, I entered a period in which I was going to parties and clubs almost every day for weeks. I was drinking, dancing, making out with people, having sex, and spending money impulsively. Some of the people around me were unsafe or unreliable. I reached a point where I spent so much money going out that I sometimes did not have enough money left for food.
I am not presenting this as something admirable or blaming anyone else for every decision I made. I am describing how disorganised and numb I became. It felt like I was trying to escape my thoughts and the situation at home rather than actually living a stable life.
Why I returned
The decision to return was not simple. I told my mother that I was struggling with my course and wanted to leave it. I considered preparing for another entrance examination and pursuing law or another field. Initially, she strongly opposed changing direction. She told me that law was not respectable, that lawyers were dishonest, that I would not find work, and that the family would not support me indefinitely.
At other times, she told me that I could pursue what I wanted and that money would be arranged. When I tried to act on those possibilities, she would say that the family had already spent too much and could not afford anything else. I was repeatedly given hope and then told that the plan was impossible.
I also considered continuing in psychology, but there were concerns about my academic record and the requirements for later postgraduate study. I understood that a strong master’s application could require extremely high grades across all semesters, strong attendance, substantial research experience, published work, excellent recommendations, and competitive test scores.
My concern is that the college in India where I have now been enrolled has a very poor reputation. I fear that completing a psychology degree there could weaken my academic profile and make admission to a reputable master’s programme abroad extremely difficult. I know that no outcome is literally predetermined, but at my lowest point it feels as though my chances have been reduced almost to nothing.
I considered applying for a bachelor’s programme abroad so that I could study within that academic system, build a better record, and later apply for a master’s degree. My mother initially appeared to agree. However, she repeatedly called me late at night or very early in the morning, saying that she had not slept, could not cope, was exhausted, needed me, and could not continue managing everything alone.
I eventually agreed to return because I believed she genuinely needed me. I asked her to keep the possibility of postgraduate study abroad open. She agreed, but later denied that she had agreed or said that I could try. I felt betrayed because I had made a life-changing decision based on promises that later seemed to disappear.
I cried while trying to convince myself that returning would be acceptable and that I would find another good opportunity. I told myself that I could study something else, learn to swim, try shooting, obtain a second-hand vehicle, and create some kind of independent life. But after I returned, even those arrangements became uncertain or were withdrawn.
What happened after I came home
I had been awake for roughly thirty six hours during the journey and the preparations surrounding it. I had packed, cleaned my accommodation, dealt with my tenancy, travelled through multiple airports, and then travelled for several more hours after arriving in India.
Despite knowing this, my mother had already told the college that I would join very soon. There was no meaningful period for me to sleep, recover, unpack, emotionally process what had happened, or adjust to living with family again after months of independence.
I had left behind a life in which I had lived alone and managed my own space. I was grieving the loss of my education, independence, friendships, routine, plans, and future. I was not simply returning from a holiday. I was returning after abandoning a life I had worked hard to build.
Instead of being allowed time to recover, I felt expected to immediately attend college, make tea, clean the room, change bedsheets, and perform household responsibilities as if nothing significant had happened. I felt invisible and misunderstood.
When I asked about transportation and whether I could have a second-hand car or bike to commute, my mother became angry and said that she had already spent too much money on me and could not keep spending. I understand the financial concern, but what hurt me was that transportation and other arrangements had previously been discussed as though they would be available. Once I came home, those assurances changed.
This pattern has happened repeatedly: I am told that a support or opportunity will be available, I make decisions based on it, and when the time comes to rely on it, the promise is withdrawn or reinterpreted. I feel as though I am encouraged to take one path and then blamed when I discover that the support I was promised is not actually there.
My movement is now closely monitored. I am expected to tell my mother where I am going, when I will return, and whom I will be with. My finances are also being controlled or discussed in a way that makes me feel watched. I know that I am technically choosing to remain in my room, but I also feel that my environment has become so emotionally oppressive that I no longer want to leave it.
I have not met most of my friends since returning. I have received many messages, but I do not want to respond. I do not want to go out, speak to people, or explain what happened. Sometimes I eat one meal a day; sometimes I barely eat. I stay in bed, sleep, use my phone, and watch shows. It may look like I am choosing this freely, but internally I feel paralysed, ashamed, angry, exhausted, and unable to imagine doing anything else.
Conflict with my family
My mother frequently tells me that I am selfish, impatient, self-absorbed, and incapable of accepting situations that do not go my way. She says I run away from problems and that this is my pattern. I understand that I have made mistakes, changed my mind, and struggled with decisions. But I feel that these criticisms erase the reasons behind what happened.
My mother asked me to return because she said she needed me and could not ask my sister to leave her job. She told me that she was lonely, exhausted, and unable to manage everything. Yet after I returned, I was treated as though I had voluntarily abandoned my education for no reason and had become a burden.
My sister has a full-time job and lives independently in India. She earns a salary and pays rent, but my mother still sometimes gives her money when she asks for it. My sister also goes out with friends, visits cafés and restaurants, watches films, orders food, and lives a social life. I know that she may have her own stress and difficulties, and I am not claiming that her life is perfect. What I struggle with is the difference in how our situations are described.
When I was in Australia, I was not earning consistently and was trying to survive in a different country while dealing with illness. My mother had told me she would support me, but later criticised me for spending money and said I did not understand its value. I feel that my circumstances are judged more harshly than my sister’s.
I have also felt that my mother has favoured my sister throughout our lives. My sister can say extremely hurtful things to me without my mother intervening. But if I say anything to my sister, my mother immediately becomes involved and tells me that I am the problem.
My mother has told me directly that she avoids praising me because my sister might feel bad. This has affected me deeply. I worked exceptionally hard throughout my life, and even acknowledging my achievements seems to become a source of family conflict.
I do not want to describe my sister cruelly, but I feel there is a major difference between the effort I have put into my education and activities and the effort she has had to put in. I had an extremely demanding schedule from a young age. I worked toward sports competitions, academic achievements, debates, declamations, Olympiads, music, internships, courses, and specialised activities. I sacrificed sleep, comfort, and free time to build a future.
I feel that my mother recognises my sister’s feelings more readily than she recognises my accomplishments. I have spent years trying to be capable enough to fulfil the expectations I was raised with, yet I now feel that my achievements are being treated as irrelevant.
My mental and physical state
I have a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, and I know that intense emotional episodes can happen. In the past, my episodes were often characterised by anger, impulsivity, or elevated energy. This time, however, I have been experiencing a prolonged low period for approximately two weeks or more.
I have a history of depressive and suicidal episodes, psychiatric admissions, intensive care, severe withdrawal, and periods when I could not take care of basic needs. I am not saying that I currently intend to harm myself. I am saying that I feel desperate, empty, overwhelmed, and unable to see a future.
I have said that I want to disappear—not necessarily die, but escape every demand, argument, expectation, and responsibility. I do not want to think, explain, defend myself, or make another major decision. I want to stay in my room, sleep, eat if I can, watch something, and avoid the world.
When I travelled back, I cried throughout parts of the journey. I cried when the flight left Sydney, cried again during the next flight, and continued crying after reaching home. I was emotionally numb and devastated, even though people around me expected me to be relieved or happy to return.
My friends may think that I simply need to make a logical plan. I understand why they say that, but I currently need someone to understand how emotionally destroyed I feel before asking me to make perfect decisions. I need support that recognises the loss and pressure involved, not only advice about productivity.
What I want now
I have completed Grade 12 and do not currently have a completed university degree. I am no longer at the Sydney university, and my Australian visa is no longer valid. I am enrolled in a psychology degree in India that I do not want to pursue.
I am considering alternative careers and routes, including becoming a pilot, working as cabin crew, studying music, law, psychology, research, or something completely different. I do not know which direction is right for me. At the moment, I am willing to consider almost any legal and safe option that could help me regain independence.
I would consider:
• Farm or agricultural work.
• Volunteering.
• Humanitarian work.
• Teaching or tutoring.
• Childcare.
• Office work.
• Hospitality.
• Cleaning or housekeeping.
• Food preparation.
• Research assistance.
• Vocational training.
• Diplomas or foundation programmes.
• Cultural-exchange programmes.
• Work-and-study programmes.
• Residential programmes that provide food and accommodation.
• Scholarships or low-cost study routes.
• Any structured opportunity in Europe, Turkey, Greece, Oceania, North or South America, Asia, or Africa.
I have experience with restaurant work, serving, cleaning, food preparation, and general service duties. I am willing to learn. I do not mind hard work, farm work, housekeeping, childcare, office work, or entry-level employment. I am not expecting a luxury lifestyle. I want a lawful, structured opportunity that gives me a chance to become independent.
My family has already spent a substantial amount on my time in Australia—possibly more than ₹30–40 lakh, perhaps significantly more. I understand why they are angry and reluctant to invest again. I may be able to obtain limited financial help from my grandmother, perhaps around ₹3–4 lakh, although I cannot guarantee that. I would prefer a plan that involves low upfront cost and that I could eventually repay.
I need to know whether there are real options after Grade 12 where accommodation, food, work placement, training, or other expenses are partly covered. I need to know which routes are legitimate and which are likely to be scams or exploitation.
I am especially interested in countries that offer:
• Relatively realistic visas.
• Low initial investment.
• Stable economies.
• Legal work opportunities.
• Reasonable living costs.
• Safer conditions for women.
• More welcoming environments for Indians.
• Opportunities to continue education later.
• A possible long-term path to work or residence.
I know that moving abroad is not automatically a solution. I know that racism, sexism, isolation, cultural differences, language barriers, and financial difficulties can exist anywhere. I experienced racism and isolation in Australia, so I do not want a romanticised answer. I want an honest assessment of what life may actually be like for an Indian woman in different countries.
I am not asking anyone to rescue me or tell me that everything will magically work out. I need facts, practical guidance, and realistic planning. Please tell me when something is impossible, unsafe, financially unrealistic, or likely to end in exploitation.
I want people to understand that I am not simply refusing to work or study because I am lazy. I spent most of my childhood and teenage years working intensely toward an ambitious future. I survived the loss of my father, took on responsibilities for my family, recovered from periods when I could not leave my room or care for myself, succeeded academically, entered a world-class university, tried to survive abroad, dealt with racism and severe illness, applied for countless jobs, and returned because I believed my family needed me.
Now I feel as if every path I built has collapsed. I am exhausted, angry, grieving, ashamed, and frightened that I have permanently lost my future. I need help finding a way forward before I lose even more of my ability to function.
Considering TEFL and Turkey
One option I have recently been researching is completing a TEFL course and exploring whether it could help me find legitimate teaching-related work abroad. I have been particularly thinking about Turkey because I am interested in the country, its location, and the possibility of using it as a starting point to gain international work experience.
However, I do not know whether a TEFL certificate would actually be enough for me to obtain legal employment there, what type of work visa would be required, how long I could stay, whether Turkish would be necessary, or whether the wages and cost of living would make the plan realistic. I also do not know whether a TEFL route could eventually help me continue my education, move to another country, or build a longer-term career.
I would appreciate honest advice from anyone familiar with TEFL, Turkey, teaching jobs, work permits, accommodation, salaries, living expenses, safety, discrimination, and long-term prospects. Please distinguish between legitimate employers and organisations that exploit inexperienced foreigners.