When I was a kid, I had high hopes for my parents. I wanted them to be perfect like my friend's parents, growing old together and loving me just the way I wanted. I was a hopeful child, not realizing that life itself isn't perfect.
As parents, my mom also has a lot of expectations for my brother and me. The expectation for me; to get a good job, and even better if I come back home after getting my degree in Jakarta. Settle down in my dear hometown and find a prince charming who'd pass my mom's stringent tests so she could give her blessing.
Even though my mom was the one who encouraged me to go to Jakarta and explore the world, she was also the one who constantly asked me to come home. To stop living overseas and start to live in my hometown.
When mom ran out of ammunition to bring me home, she would run to Aunt Mang. My mom always assumed that I listened to her more.
But Aunty Mang's answer was always the same:
"Stop asking her to come back. Let her be free, living in a place where she feels comfortable. Maybe when the time comes, and she's done with her adventures, she will come back, but not by force."
Classic Aunt Mang, keeping it real.
My relationship with my dad was different from that with my mom. Despite witnessing his infidelity and the pain it caused, I felt a strong bond with him. He had a natural talent for making me laugh, and his simple acts of love, like giving me roses on Valentine's Day or cooking a midnight snack when I stayed up late studying, made me feel like I will always be his little girl. Our connection was light yet real. Though there were moments of awkwardness during his early years of marriage to my stepmom, I now see our relationship as content. We have no expectations of each other. I'm not sure if that's a healthy thing or not, but it's brought us closer. If there was a misunderstanding we could somehow manage to solve. He's never pressured me about when I'll marry, unlike literally everyone else in my hometown. Sometimes it seems like he doesn't really care, but I know he does. He just knows me so well, understanding what draws me closer and what pushes me away.
On the contrary, I often found myself burdened by the weight of my mother's expectations, as if I were carrying a multitude of them on my shoulders. She would scrutinise my appearance, from how I dressed to even making remarks about my skin colour, albeit in a joking manner. Nevertheless, those remarks still caused me pain, as it felt like my self-worth was intricately tied to her own. I couldn't help but draw parallels to the dynamic between Monica and Ross's parents in the TV series Friends. Remember when Monica repeatedly fluffed her pillow nervously and trying to make it look perfect when her parents came to visit. It was exactly how I felt when I was going to meet my mom.
While I was trying my best and still am to learn on how to handle criticism, the constant judgement and criticism from my own mother felt unjust. It seemed that she held a more critical lens towards me compared to my brother, further widening the growing divide between us. She is incredibly difficult to satisfy, yet I find myself constantly striving to please her. Until I gradually lose pieces of myself.
I often wondered if it was possible for parents to love their children without smothering them or to take care without possessing and controlling. The desire for such a love, free from expectations, is what led me to distance myself from my hometown, seeking peace away from home from the traumas of my childhood and the relentless criticism I faced.
Recently, I came across a podcast episode featuring Dr. Shefali Tsabary, a renowned clinical psychologist and author specializing in conscious parenting. Her words resonate deeply within me. Dr. Shefali emphasized the need for parents to let go of rigid expectations and embrace their children's authentic selves. It was about accepting and supporting them for who they truly are, rather than moulding them into someone else's vision of success or happiness. This approach encouraged parents to cultivate a genuine connection, nurturing their children's individuality and fostering a strong sense of self-worth and resilience.
I hold no blame towards my parents, as I understand that they, like anyone else, faced their own unique challenges during their years of marriage when they had me and my brother. I'm sure that they were navigating their own struggles and trying their best. However, as I reflect on my upbringing, I can now see how it has shaped my approach to life and relationships. The dynamics and history of my family have had a significant impact on my attachment style and how I perceive the world around me.
This has led to a constant sense of never feeling good enough and struggling to find contentment in my connections with others. I have often felt unworthy of care and compassion, as if this belief is deeply rooted within me, affecting my overall self-worth.
In addition, I have developed a strong sense of perfectionism that permeates every aspect of my life. I hold myself to high standards and engage in self-criticism, constantly striving for flawlessness. This tendency towards self-criticism has likely been influenced by the expectations and pressures I experienced in my family environment.
Furthermore, I have become a people pleaser, stems from the need to feel accepted and worthy. I unconsciously prioritise the happiness and satisfaction of others above my own needs, often neglecting my own well-being in the process.
At times, I find myself running away from problems rather than confronting them directly. This avoidance behaviour may be a result of wanting to avoid conflict or discomfort. It's a coping mechanism I have developed to protect myself from potential pain or rejection.
Recognizing these patterns and understanding their origins is an important step towards my healing. By acknowledging the influences of my family history, I can begin to challenge these ingrained beliefs and behaviours. With self-compassion, therapy, and personal reflection, I can work towards cultivating a healthier mindset, embracing my worthiness, and learning healthier ways to navigate relationships and face challenges in life.
In acknowledging the impact of my family's emotional baggage, I understand that they too carried their own unresolved chapters. These emotional burdens accumulated over time, acting as a chain reaction that has influenced their behaviour and subsequently affected my own experiences. However, I now realise that it is my responsibility to break free from this cycle.
But even though I now desire to be closer to my family, I've come to realise the importance of respecting and maintaining my peace and personal boundaries within our relationship. As much as I yearn for healing, I understand that it takes time for wounds to mend. We have all endured our share of pain and hardships, and we each need to take ownership of the time required for our individual healing journeys, as challenging as it may be at first.
The broken pieces of our family won't magically mend overnight, but I believe that we can make progress by moving forward together. We may be living in different seasons of life, but we are still a family at our core. We are ready to embrace the changes, accepting that we have all grown and evolved, and finding a way to connect and support one another in our respective journeys.
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"Hey lil sis, where are you planning to celebrate the new year? Come back home, I'll buy you the ticket"
My phone buzzed with a text from my cousin, who I've always seen as more of an older sister. She's actually my mom's niece, and after her mother passed away when she was just a baby, my grandfather raised her as his own. She spent so much time in our home that it felt like she was a part of our immediate family. Even after she got married she would come back to our house during the holidays.
I vividly remember when she would come home in the middle of the night during the difficult times in her marriage. She stayed with us for weeks, seeking support from both my mom and dad. Her kids would also come to visit us, and they would play and have fun with my dad. They practically grew up in our home, forming a special connection with my father that surpassed their relationship with their own grandfather.
She was also disappointed when she found out that my parents decided to get divorced, as she understood the impact it would have on visiting both of them separately when she came home.
When I declined her invitation to celebrate the new year together because I had plans to stay in a small cottage away from the crowds and fireworks, she told me she would drive home the next day and planned to visit my dad.
"My kids miss your dad. They've been begging me to plan a trip back home so they can go fishing with him. I still feel a bit awkward around his new wife, but what can I say? "
We ended up having a phone call that lasted over an hour, catching up on our lives.
"You know, I really miss your old house. We made so many memories there, more than anywhere else in our hometown," she said nostalgically. And to be honest, she wasn't the only one who felt that way. Our parents' house may not have been big, but it was the place where all our cousins chose to have sleepovers, where our grandparents would gather, and where anyone who wanted to enjoy my mom's delightful cakes would show up. Dea echoed the sentiment, "Damn, I miss reading those comic books in your little cosy corner." I couldn't help but reply, "I know, me too."
The house is still there, with all its memories intact, but none of us have visited in a while. We've all moved on to different places we now call home. My mom recently moved into a new house she just built with her husband, and while it won't be the same as our old one, I know that we will create new memories there.
Puput, the one who always offered me the passenger seat as my personal refuge during challenging times at home, would occasionally drive me to my old house when we were both in town just to see what colour it's been painted or how the neighbourhood has evolved. But it's just a house now, a physical space that holds sentimental value but doesn't define us anymore.
The old home we had will always hold a special place within each one of us, reminding us of the love and laughter that once filled its rooms. But life goes on, we've all moved on, and we learn to put the past where it belonged.
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