Lessons in Lockdown: Moving Back In With My Parents
Lockdown learning isn't just for kids.
It’s something so many of us have had to face since Boris decided to lock us up and unexpectedly throw away the key for a year. Moving back in with your parents in either panic last March or a caught in the crossfire in December. A lot of us have ended up here. To add some complexity to it, those of us from ethnic backgrounds and particularly those of us who are female from said backgrounds - moving back in with your parents holds a different kind of weight. I should pause and affirm that, as I have always said, I’m very lucky 1) being an only child and 2) my parents have definitely grown as I have. However, that does not mean we are ready to audition for a re-make of happy families.
I vividly remember landing back in the UK, a week before we went into lockdown, to the apocalyptic version of London. My flatmate immediately travelled back to her family home as her work told her not to come in. Weirdly my uni had decided that in person lectures would go ahead so I held off making any decisions about going home. Honestly, I used the lectures as an excuse; let’s be real I just flew to Disneyland mid semester I wasn’t exactly star student. I wasn’t sure that I could cope with locking down with my parents for 3 weeks. Yep, at the time I was really questioning 3 weeks with them. I love my parents and I’m lucky that my dad is my best friend, but I also moved out at 18 to university and have lived out ever since. Although I had more freedom than other Punjabi, Sikh girls in my position, growing up, I was still a brown girl under her parents roof. University and London enabled me to explore my identity whilst helping me to develop life skills that I would haven’t of otherwise needed. The possibility of losing that in my final year along with the friction that had developed about my new lifestyle in the last few years; I felt stuck. When I realised the seriousness of the situation I rang my dad in a panic and plan to evacuate me 24 hours before we locked down (the first time).
The first lockdown is something that I weirdly find myself romanticising from the long days, sunny walks and stupid amount of baking/tiktok. I felt it was nice to pause and reset from what was an unmaintainable lifestyle I had in London of never resting. But, I’m also plagued by the fact that it was tough. Yes it was tough on people’s mental health, but living with my parents, for what turned into 3 months, was tough. My parents still saw me as the 18 year old girl who had left and I saw myself as the 21 year old woman who had returned. Oddly it wasn’t arguments over my career choices or questions over my future plans. It was the small things that were an issue. From how I preferred to work at night compared to them rising at 5am, to how I drink coffee past 3pm, and me not being able to go out for a walk by myself in a tiny-suburban village but being allowed to live in South London for the last 2 years. I found that my parents expected me to snap back into their lifestyle and I expected them to accommodate my lifestyle. My parents also thought they understood my needs and knew my thoughts and were thrown by new developments in my character. Although I frequented home at least once every 6 weeks a weekend compared to weeks meant that these small differences had never been realised. That burst of love and energy you get visiting long fades out when you’ve been arguing about what time you went to sleep the night before for 12 weeks. The main thing is that we survived and honestly I did appreciate the time I was almost gifted to spend with them as I thought it wouldn’t occur again. I was very wrong.
In the space between June to December a lot changed in my life. I went from uni student to a graduate to a working woman. I moved out of my parents house back to my flat and then into another flat in London. I think we all thought we had experienced the weird fever dream of lockdown and life was normal. Until the November lockdown was announced. This time my choice was made for me as my work continued to need me in twice a week in the office so I stayed in London. Admittedly there was a difference with takeaways and a new level of understanding of the virus. Living with two other people meant that I didn’t feel alone but those people not being my parents meant that I had some privacy. Something that any brown child will tell you doesn’t exist in their households. In all my gloating I did really miss my parents. Although glad I was able to go to work and have some normality I felt sad that the choice to see my parents had been taken away. I felt nervous that if something were to happen I wasn’t going to be there. Only child guilt also meant that I worried my parents would be bored/lonely. Luckily we made it and I dashed home the moment lockdown lifted to check that they still had the capacity to lecture me. They did.
When the December lockdown came we had been placed in tier 4, a tier that didn’t exist previously, and I had returned home as my office was shut due to lockdown and holidays. Naively I only packed enough to be away for 2 weeks but I quickly realised I was wrong. My position was different to November because my flatmates had returned to the US and although a lot of my friends still live in the capital we have also all taken lockdown seriously. I knew I would be limited on who I could see so I looked at my parents eagerly wanting my home and thought we did it once so why not again. I’m so glad I did.
This time around I realised that my parents savored me being home as they wanted to be aware of my world. I think importantly they also viewed me differently. I was no longer a student who spent her days sleeping but I was working. For my parents, who often refer to themselves of having an immigrant mindset in regard to work, so much value is placed on work. Working, earning and grinding hard was the one thing that was quantifiable for them. My parents valued education but having never been to university they felt detached. But, having worked hard from a young age they appreciated me in a different way. My dad no longer moans about my coffee intake because he understands my job requires the energy and both have invested in ear plugs so they don’t know what time I sleep anymore. I, on the other hand, haven’t felt the need to pick a fight about going for a walk alone because I realize there are just some things that won’t change.
I forgot, whilst being so focused on my own change, that my parents have also grown up in the last 4 years. As much as they struggled to see my transition as an adult, I feel I struggled to see their continuous adaptation. From a young age I adjusted my expectations of my parents as I realised that they were unlearning a lot of behaviour from their own backgrounds/childhoods. I recognized that my parents were a product of their environment as were their outdated views. But, for some reason I expected them to continue to do that even when I was no longer pushing those boundaries. I failed to see that they had to jump to 22 year old me rather than adapt with 19,20 and 21 year old me.
I’ve really enjoyed being at home this lockdown and the anxiety that I left with in June is no longer present. I find myself wanting to be more present in the mundane things and continuing to compromise on our lifestyles. I think both parties are aware that it’s now 3 adults living in the house whilst recognising I will always be their child. Moving back home isn’t something I think I would permanently do but it’s grounded me. Not only do I respect my freedom more but I also feel reconnected with my family and values. Don’t get me wrong I’m ready to be back in my city, with my friends, continuing to grow in my youth, but I have a newfound fondness for my parents. I’m so grateful that I’ve been able to sit and discuss my dads newfound love for fitness vloggers on YouTube and my mum’s new addiction to drag race. I see my parents more as people now and respect their personalities beyond being my parent. They are learning to respect my character beyond being their child.
My lesson in lockdown was that no matter where I am and how much I love my life. No matter how much I love a Saturday night in Soho and travelling to work on the tube. When the closest thing to an apocalypse hits there’s a reason we all chose to move back in with our parents. Because they said to stay at home and it will always be home.
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