I grew up in a very critical home. Everything about who I am as a person was wrong. It didn’t matter if I was playing with dolls, eating a lot of meat, and spending more time with my nanny than with my parents or if I played like a boy, monitoring my eating, and trying to get the attention of my parents. In their eyes, I was a mistake.
Everyday I am reminded that I am not loved by my parents.
All other parents would like to rebuttal. My parents would like to argue, but the truth is just as it is.
Love can come in all sorts of ways. My mom’s willingness to understand my like for art is a form of love. Her ‘goodwill’ of pushing me to go to church is an act of love. My father takes time out of his days to drive me to school. He comes and goes, and waits for me inside a hot van. That is love.
That is true.
But there is no, great job. There is never, ‘would you like to talk about it’? There is no sense of wanting to get to know me. There is only ‘here is who you are’. I can only change into something they approve. And their standards are limited. All I ever seem to hear is, ‘talk to me when I’m talking to you, otherwise, I won’t hear it if you initiate the conversation’.
I promise, this is not exaggeration.
I was born somewhat like a mistake. My dad wasn’t at the hospital and my mom always sound like she regrets that day. There only two reasons why she mentions the day I was born.
- During a heated conversation about my dad to me, she will purposefully tell me as if I don’t remember after the nth time how my dad was not there for her. She tells me, she gave birth to me with only her sister by her side.
- Either when we are talking about the past or whenever I look like I’m a bit off, she will tell me I was born with big open eyes. All the nurses, doctors, strangers, and aunts flocked to me at the nursery because I was the only baby with eyes wide open and not crying.
Would I say that’s love? I don’t know.
How could a parent recall to their child their birth with bitterness? Consider this, how can you tell a child at less than 10years old that you remember their birth because of #1? #2 doesn’t give me much either because it always leads to #1.
If ever I am faced with raising a child or needing to show my affections, I wouldn’t hesitate to do so. I think that love helps a child grow as much as discipline. There should be a balance that I didn’t experience for myself. And I don’t think any of my siblings truly had it either.
I’ve been told before that the love we get from our parents is the love we put out to others.
For me, this is true. I am blunt with my friends, but I am also quite secretive. I try not to let anyone get close to me.
Upon realizing this, I have changed quite a lot. I have let people into my life even though I worry of getting hurt often. Regardless, I want to trust others just the same as they trust me. I try to always be supportive and if I don’t think something is right, I am forward about it without being mean. These are changes I have made after realizing how my parents have taught me how to love.
I will cut this short, but I will be talking more about love on a later post.