Not All Parents Are Good, Neither Are Mine

You may have nice family, kindhearted parents, lovely childhood, and all environment that has shaped your mental and personality into the healthy person. Everything in your life is so perfect when it comes to family, and you truly love your parents. You idolize them, you miss them, and you want to be like them.

You know what? Not everyone is like you. Not everyone is lucky enough to have such lovely family and great parents.

I don’t know how it feels to have such beautiful family, but I know what you may not know.

There are some out there whose parents are screwy and thus screwed the children. A dad who doesn’t want to work because he suffers from delusion about being bestowed of divine duty to take care of world’s finance, and it has caused the family falls apart because his parents in law hate him, and this has damaged his children.

There are some out there who’ve been abused by their very own mother and father, and also grandmother. Physically abused, sexually abused, mentally abused, and it has caused trauma that lasts for more than 20 years, and it also has caused socially behavioural disorder to them.

Not all of us have beautiful family, and you just don’t understand how it feels like to have such twisty abusive parents.

And what do I understand about it?

I know how it feels to go to school everyday with bruises on my body, and my friends back then asked me why was my body covered in bruises and wounds. I know how it feels to be afraid to go home, because all I would find at home was to be scolding and violence.

I know how it feels to hear scolding by my own parents, to be beaten as they called me with various swearing words and improper animal species. I know how it feels not to be wanted by the ones declared to be my guardian, my biological parents, the ones who've raised me.

What else do I know?

I know how it feels when whomever I befriend with, my parents would always have reasons to badmouth about my friends. I was forbidden to be friends with those whose grade was bad because they said the academically stupid people would make me lazy and stupid. I was forbidden to be friends with smart people because they said the academically smart students wouldn’t like it if I got good marks, and thus they would conspire against me by tricking me not to study.

Whenever I have friends who come from different background of ethnicity and religion, my parents always badmouth about them, and tell me not to be too close with them. They also badmouth about other religions and ethnicities right on my face.

You don’t know how it feels to feel connected to someone, but all your parents ever teach is hatred towards them for whatever reasons.

You don’t know how it feels to be intentionally spitted by your own mother just because she wants to satisfy her anger towards you, and yet she claims to love you, she claims to be your very own mother who is fond of you, and she spit on my face more than once in different occasions, intentionally.

You don’t know how it feels to be threatened by your own parents that they want to dispose of you or even murder you, and I was still a small child and I was really scared. You don’t know how it feels when your own dad threw a fork right on to your backbones, and fortunately it missed, because otherwise now I must have become disabled or should have been dead for good.

You don’t know how it feels that your own parents teach you to resent and retaliate to people who offend you, or teach and force you to lie for the interest of their nepotism, and force you to hate people they unreasonably hate, or force you to like people whom they conspire with to commit bad deeds.

And what about being scolded and then forced to get out of house naked, so that you would be embarrassed and feel ashamed by people seeing you walking naked, just so your mother could feel satisfied from madness? You may never imagine it, but I have experienced it.

Have you ever been hit that it made you unable to walk for as much 3 days because your ankle was injured by your own dad? Because I have. And never in a glimpse had he regretted it. Today, he must have forgotten anything about it ever happened

In fact, my both parents never care of what they have done towards me. They don’t care at all whether I’m damaged or not.

In junior high school, I was in love with a girl. She has different faith from my parents’. My parents found out that I had a crush on her and they started beating me out of it. I happened to fall in love with her longer than I thought, and even when I was in high school that I barely could meet her or talk to her, my parents still got me beaten to almost dead. There was once in high school that they made me unable to go to school because of it.

Whenever they’re confronted with such facts, all they would do is to excuse themselves by either saying “We’re not God. It’s humane to be imperfect” or they would get mad. It’s so much easy for them to neglect the damage they’ve caused, and yet still they repeat the same mistakes.

But what about my damage? What about these mental disorders I’ve been secretly suffering from because of those traumas? What about my whole life that they’ve screwed and it cannot be undone?

And the worst part of this is they still abuse me. They are still the same violent parents that teach their children to hate. They never admit their wrongdoings and they blame on me instead. They force me to be something I never want. They manipulate me for their own interest and obsession. They use me as revenge tool towards their siblings that they have conflicts with. They reckon me only as mere a trophy they exhibit to relatives.

Whatever I say and I need, they never care and never listen. They pretend to want the best for me but in fact all they do is being selfish suffocating me with their desires. What I want is never important.

What else that you don’t know?

You don’t know how it feels to feel afraid of getting out of your bedroom, afraid of meeting people, and afraid of going home. You don’t know how it feels to be afraid of continuing your life. You don’t know how it feels to laugh with friends when you’re hanging out or chatting with them but you cry when you’re home. The laughter is just a natural mask you always put on so that you can have a little normal social life, but inside you’re broken and twisted.

You don’t know how it feels to try your best surviving such kind of life since you’re little, and almost for 20 years you've been keeping everything to yourself that you’ve wanted to commit suicide just so bad since you were a 5 years old.

You don't know how it feels when you really want to let go, you've been trying to forgive, but you cannot. Because the scenes keep being replayed in your head, because those voices are the only ones you can hear, and because the parents just keep making themselves vicious enough that you can't help but resent them. And it makes you suffer even more. It makes you hate yourself too.

So you know now, you know why I oft times disappear from life. You know now why I’ve been gone. You may have been judging me for things you never know, and most possibly you will still judge me. And you still don’t know anyway how it feels to be afraid of seeing the sun rise, because it means another day comes, and it means the incertitude of your life because of such parents waiting for you, maybe to be scolded or beaten again, as usual.

And I don't want to see my parents. I don't want to see them anymore because I've had enough of the damage, and I cannot take it any further. I cannot take any more shaming that they've caused me. And everytime I see posts in Facebook talking about how people are proud of their parents, a little piece of me is wounded.