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1 day ago

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What if the way we learn to survive at home ends up destroying our happiness later? I didn’t ask myself this until I noticed how deeply my father’s anger and my mother’s silence had taken root in me.

I don’t remember when I first noticed it. Maybe it was the silence that followed every argument. Perhaps it was the way my mom would become quiet during arguments, letting my dad yell at her until his throat was raw. I think she got quiet because she realised that every argument was just the same. An argument should have let him see her troubles, but he was stubbornly refusing to see them. She saw no point in arguing further.

Back then, I neither understood it nor knew what to name it, but now I know. It was a repeated cycle, and at some point, she got accustomed to it. I think that was her way of protecting our peace. She hoped that if she didn’t argue further, he wouldn’t take it out on the kids. She had learnt through each moment how to respond to the repetitions.

And when I started noticing, I realized more and more. It wasn’t just the arguments. It also included the sarcastic remarks, the loud footsteps, heavy breathing, the change in his tone, and the way his eyes filled with fury, etc. All these were getting imprinted in my brain, bit by bit, like rainwater seeping into the ground, deeper and deeper.

I automatically started to learn which words or actions triggered anger in my dad and avoided them as much as I could. I got quieter and quieter. The situation in my home slowly turned me into an observer because that’s what I had to do. Observe the pattern and absorb.

It didn’t take me long to mirror my mom. I started stopping mid-sentence during disagreements. I changed my tone to a more gentle one because if I also raised my voice when his voice was already reaching the heavens, my home would’ve collapsed very soon, and the consequences of that were too much for me to bear. I started tiptoeing around certain topics in fear of receiving negative reactions from my dad.

And over time, the roots of these patterns only grew deeper, invading and affecting me in other aspects of my life. I went from being a talkative person to not speaking unless necessary. I started to keep a lot of things to myself. Even when it hurt me, I refused to voice it.

I avoided confrontation like the plague. I was afraid of a negative aftermath, especially in my love relationship. I convinced myself to do certain things that I didn’t enjoy, especially the physical aspects of the relationship, even when my inner self said no to it, because I thought if I did it, my partner wouldn’t have a reason to get upset or have any disagreement.

But I couldn’t keep on doing it longer. I started believing that my partner was somehow forcing me to do it. That I was doing it for him. And that brought me memories. I started comparing my partner to my dad, fearing a what-if, where he turned out to be someone whom I knew all too well, and that possibility scared me to no end.

But I also realised that what I was doing was wrong. I kept bringing my family into my relationship, and the quiet comparisons ultimately made me unable to look at my partner without a lingering feeling of doubt, leading me to end the relationship. And that was when it hit me that my home was affecting me and shaping me in ways I didn’t know and I didn’t want. And I was sabotaging myself in places where I should’ve found warmth.

That realization left a bitter taste in my mouth that stayed with me for a long time. I didn’t know how to process everything that happened and how to unlearn the pain that was etched into me, to avoid future disasters. I only knew that if I didn’t, I would spoil everything that should be mine, including happiness. But realization isn’t a fairy that would just magically fix everything. It is just my first step towards growth.

I know I have to work on myself a lot. I have to first learn to face confrontations. To say no. To disagree. To accept that not every man is like my dad. I have to make room in my heart for the possibility of goodness, warmth, and love. I know it’s going to be a long journey, uncomfortable and tough, but I’m willing to embark on this adventure of finding myself again.

Thank you for reading.😊

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