Back at the unhappy home
I don’t usually criticise people of their mood swings.Because I am the mother of mood swings.
Hell, I don’t like to criticise people much. Unless they’re horrible parkers and drivers. And bitches and hypocrites and idiots and sleazeballs and… well, you get the idea.
I try not to stay at home much. Or speak much. God knows when a simple word I say will trigger another damn ‘silent war’ with her.
I know we cannot choose our parents. And I do not subscribe to the belief that we do choose our parents. Something about the way we behave equals to the end results of what our parents are like. I don’t believe that crap.
Many people don’t understand when I say that I can live happily without family. I learnt sometime back, that our family is the friends we choose to surround ourselves with. They are our chosen family. If you are lucky, you will be born into a fine family. If you are not, like me, you suffer. How do you suffer?
Self-doubt. I cannot do anything or say anything, on my own, because if I say something that will make her unhappy, I will be in trouble. Hence, I’ve constantly paused and ask myself, ‘Is that right? Should I do this? Can I say this?’ I question myself.
Inferiority. For as long as I can remember, I’ve never been celebrated for who and what I am. Oh, there have been moments when she does say that I must be unique, that I am unique. But the times that she put me down and said that I would never amount to anything outweigh them more.
Doubtful of own femininity. I must remember to tell my daughters that they are beautiful, that they are lovely, in their own way and no matter what. Even if they are plain, I will not tell them straight out that they are ugly or nothing much to look at.
Insecurity. Since young, I would be abruptly attacked by this sense of fear, that I cannot trust the person(s) I am with, and that I need to run. Most of the time, they occurred when I was with my family members.
Fear of expression. I cannot show extreme liking towards objects. Because conditions will be imposed on before I can be allowed to possess things. Like my first jeans at the age of 18, but gifted by an aunt who knew that she would never gift me them. Nor can I fully express thoughts, because they would most likely be in conflict with what she thought.
I am a cauldron of contradictory emotions. Yesterday I was tremulously swaying between happiness at being with friends for dinner and despair of her indifference at my not going home for dinner. This morning I was in anticipation of my planned hookey. This afternoon I was exhilarated with the movie and filled with satisfaction. This evening before I left for another movie with my friend, I was almost in despair at her apparent lack of interest in my outing. And at her lack of effort to make the situation better.
People don’t understand why I won’t feel sad if I didn’t have my family with me when I move over to Australia. They don't understand why I won't miss them. This is why.
I don’t believe that humans are meant to live like this. Constantly wary of conflict with parents or siblings. Constantly guarding thoughts and words. Constantly examine actions and behaviours. Constantly revise speech, phrase, expression and emotion.
Which I have been doing since age 3, at the very least.
I’m tired. I’m fed-up. But I cannot ‘give up’.
I don’t think I’m a horrible daughter. I know I am not a bad daughter. Imperfect, maybe. Irritating, maybe. Negligent, maybe. But compared to many other daughters I know and heard of, I’m alright.
I’m trying not to get sucked into the despair whenever these ‘silent wars’ happen. I suspect if I didn’t experience a wonderful thing recently, that I would deeply mired in depression by now.
I pray to God constantly, that He keep me safe and grant me wisdom so that I may not aggravate a ritual with her. It’s still happening… Yet, I cannot rail at Him now, can I? Who am I to question Him? All things have a purpose and reason, isn't it?
No, I cannot question. I can do nothing. I shall not dwell on this tonight. I’m tired, so tired.
Morpheus calls me to his arms. I shall go willingly.
posted by Jennirhiow @ 2:26 am
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