My parents and I.
Since I’m feeling a bit sad now that I have to cut my time on reading my books, I wanted to fill this blog with something else; something that definitely no one would care about, but I’m going to do it anyway. Well in case anyone out there wants to know me a bit, I’ll be posting some stories about me in this blog. This is one of those stories.
Do I have a good relationship with my parents? I genuinely don’t know. I spent my younger years moving around a lot because of my Father’s job and I hated him for that. I was a socially anxious kid and to move around a lot does not help at all. Also, my father was a very strict man; there were times when he would be yelling to us kids, or at times he got a bit physical and hit us when we were kids. During my Junior High School years, I rebel against him when he hit me and after that he stopped hitting us altogether.
My family was never a lovey dovey kind of family, and growing up I spent my angsty teenage years in the care of my grandmother who spoiled me. I only see my mum and dad along with my sibling on the weekend or during school break. It was not weird for me to not live with my core family as I always have been very close to my grandmother and my unmarried aunt.
During my college years, I went to the same University as my elder sister, and that’s when my mum starts to build a relationship with me. She wanted me to keep an eye on my sister; she would never admit that was her intention but I can just tell it might have contributed to the fact she tried to reach out to me. During my second year of college, a family tragedy struck our family and it hit my mum pretty badly. At that time, I was going through my second wave of being an angsty teen but also at the same time I tried to be there for my mum.
Eventually I develop somewhat of a weird relationship with my mum; I would respect her very much and cared for her deeply, but I would not say that our relationship was anywhere close to a regular mother and daughter relationship. To put it simply, I tolerate her and I let her think that we have somewhat of a cool mother and daughter relationship. As for my dad, nothing ever get back to normal after the moment that I confront him about hitting us when we were kids. It didn’t get better when on my third year of college, I confront him about our family tragedy that also in a way affects my younger brother deeply.
I’m 27 now and I live abroad without any close family or friends; there are times where I looked back at how my relationship with my parents affects me. I would like to think that whatever happened between my parents and me had nothing to do with how I turned out to be, but eventually I knew and realised that it did affect me and much has been a huge contributing factor at how I make choices in life.
I resigned from my first job after college because I knew that my dad thinks it’s not a legit job (it actually is a legit job, but my dad was a man from a bygone era, he thinks working in an advertising field does not count as a real work). I took up another line of job (of which I spent the better half of my angsty teenage years thinking that I wanted this line of work) only to hate it, but I keep the job anyway because I like the fact that I could gloat about my job in front of my dad. He looked down upon me when I was growing up, because I was never as outstanding as my elder sister or as smart as my younger brother; I liked the fact that I had that element of surprise when I told him I got this job. I took the scholarship to South Korea, even though I have no interest or knowledge whatsoever about South Korea, just so I can show my dad that I can achieve something great without his money.
Eventually, almost all of my big decisions were made because I wanted to show my dad that I worth something. So, I might not have what people would assume as a good relationship with my parents, but I tolerate them. I tolerate them enough to still respect them and try my best to not be of a problem or a burden to them.