"I don't want your brother to ever follow in your footsteps."
"Who said you could cry?"
//
Imagine these words being the deepest, most memorable words you've heard from your parents.
Growing up, my idea of home was one that was warm, loving, open, and more importantly, a safe space.
The home I grew up in was none of the above.
Home, to me, was somewhere I had to hide in order to feel like myself. It was the place my extroverted self felt the most alone; the place where I felt the only safe space was within the confines of my bedroom (in my parents' eyes, I grew up giving them attitude by going into my room and slamming the doors), nothing more, nothing less.
THAT was home.
I often felt unloved, judged, and my memories from time spent with my parents were.. never pleasant. If you were to ask me now what happy memories I have with my parents, I would say none come to mind. Absolutely nothing.
As a kid (and okay, as an adult), I hated Sundays.
That was when my mom did the household chores with our then-helper. Every Sunday was a living hell for me as my mom seemingly flared up at anything and everything.
Sees mess on the floor my brother made? Turns around and screams at me.
Sees me sitting on the sofa? Screams at me.
Sees groceries left around in an untidy, unsightly manner by my helper? Screams at helper THEN screams at me.
Nothing I did on Sunday seemed to be right to my mom. I remember trying to help with the chores, I desperately wanted to make my mom happy and to please her.. and then... I got scolded for not doing it right, with my mom muttering under her breath something along the lines of, "Aiya what's the point of you helping me. End up you help I got to do more, might as well I do myself la."
Mom... I can hear you.
No thank you, no I love you, no "Thank you for doing it but there's a better way to do it, let mommy show you." just scolding. Scolding. More scolding. I tried, I tried to do it better the next round. But it was still never good enough for her. Never. I never felt like I was the daughter she wanted, but the daughter she had to tolerate and deal with cuz she gave birth to me. Like she wanted a different daughter but got this stupid girl instead.
However, if my brother took part in helping out around the home, he would get praised. "Aiyo my darling son, thank you for helping me wash the plates!" (I kid you not, she said that word-for-word, right infront of me)
When I tried to step up and put my feelings aside and did it myself? "Eh later the pot you wash ah. This one also wash. Then wash already don't put like that, must put like that."
Therefore I grew up hating household chores. Not because I was lazy like my parents liked to claim and think (because it seems they never viewed me in a good light anyways), but because I grew up with the memory of feeling that if I did it, I would do it wrongly and get scolded anyways, and therefore get more hate for doing it and I really, REALLY just wanted them to show me they loved me so I would rather not do it and not "get hated on" more by them, and if anything, my brother always did a stellar job - might as well let him do it all.
..ya, I abhorred Sundays. And chores.
//
Fast forward to when I was taking my "O" Levels in sec 4.
I failed E-math and therefore failed everything. I couldn't go anywhere except ITE.. obviously that sucked. I went back into a state of depression, and felt that I was an even bigger letdown to my parents considering the fact they always told me about how well my cousins were doing. A lot of times I felt like I was better off dead, because my parents already hated me and now had to deal with the fact that their daughter was a failure. I was a daughter to hate, not to love.
But after the initial shock, I took it in my stride and made the decision to be home schooled with the subject I failed, and the subjects I felt I could do better in in order to bring up my overall grade. My dad often reminded me about how much he was paying for my ONE failed grade. How expensive it was for me to be home schooled.
Then I wondered why I even did this at all. Why I even tried, if all I was gonna face was more hate from my dad.
That "gap" year, I worked part time whenever I could at this toy shop my dad worked at thinking that if I made my own money to spend, I wouldn't need to ask my parents for money for things I wanted to get and therefore, would ease the burden of the cost of them having to deal with me "failing". I remember thinking we were broke or in debt because of me, and asking my mom that. For the job, I remember waking up at 6 in the morning for the early shift being the shittiest thing I ever did, but I did it anyways as I was happy and excited to work alongside my dad. More conversations! Just father-daughter time! More time to catch up with my dad and hopefully get closer to him. Naive little Gwen thought this experience brought her and her dad closer, which was something she always longed for.
Womp womp... all that changed when some mornings he would vent his anger on me in a sleepy stupor. One day, when we were on the way home, we were chatting in the car about my brother's studies. He was bullied in school and this caused his results to tank and we were worried as heck, as this was also the time where he went thru puberty and seemed to hate the shit out of his family that meant well (hahaha he'll kill me if he ever reads this, but I love you bro).
"I don't want your brother to ever follow in your footsteps."
My heart fell.
What.. did I.. just hear?
It took me a while to realise - no, you didn't hear it wrongly Gwen. Your dad.. actually said that.
Shock.
Disbelief.
I would be lying if I said these words didn't cut deep, as I started tearing up uncontrollably. Lucky for me, being seated at the back of the car meant having this orange LianheZaobao pillow with me and I used it to hide my face, pretending that I fell asleep like that.
In that moment, the father I looked up and looked to for love, acceptance and protection, just made me feel like I was the biggest failure ever. And mentally I thought, "I have to now ensure my brother does not become a failure like me, because it would be my fault if my brother looked to me and felt he could be like his sister and fail."
Years later, when my mom called my dad (who was working overseas in Brunei later on) in a fit of anger as we were having - yet another - heated argument, I confronted my dad about this and - get this - he forgot he ever said something like that. The phrase that haunted me for a while as my brother's studies tanked (he eventually failed his "O" Levels as well, after me monitoring him while my dad was overseas, taking the role of the "father" because my mom was seemingly sad and heartbroken half the time - many nights she could be heard sobbing loudly, alone in her room, and I took it upon myself to make sure my brother did not follow in my footsteps because I did not want him to break my mom's heart further), the phrase that struck and cut me extremely deeply.. Did my dad honestly just admit he had no recollection of it... at all?
Shock.
Disbelief.
//
Fast forward to more recent times.
/ Memories of my dad pushing me out of the photo as he and my mom wanted a photo with my brother infront of the fire engine at his Passing Out Parade (POP). Me advising them on the way home about needing to exercise more as they barely exercised anymore and I worried about their health (my grandma's health dropped drastically following a fall, that scarred me tremendously. Then a year or so ago my mom would tell me about how she felt dizzy after trekking. I got scared and talked to many people - doctors, my friends etc who know more about health stuff) - they're not getting any younger - and my parents finding it extremely funny when my dad made a snide remark by telling me I talked too much, causing me to immediately shut up and hold back tears on what felt like the looooooooooongest train ride of my life, from the West where my brother's POP was, to AMK where I stayed.
/ My dad laughing at me and refusing to listen to what my brother and I had to say - as sufferers of eczema - ABOUT eczema at a family brunch. I get mad and walk ahead as we headed home. Dad asks my brother if I'm pissed, brother says yes.
When they got home, dad goes: "You throw this kind of tantrum for what?!" in Chinese.
/ Dad fighting with me over a packet of potato chips, yelling at me so loudly and sternly as if I deserved hell over telling him not to finish my snacks without telling me.
/ My mom fighting with me as I confronted her about her biasedness towards my brother, escalating it so badly that she started slapping me uncontrollably, non-stop. When I put my hands up to defend my face, she started scratching me, aiming for my face.
Thank God I'm quite fit for a girl; my arms could save my face from her claws.. hur.
Then my dad rushing home as my mom called him in tears, and singling me out as the troublemaker. Telling me I needed to stop causing problems for them.
Anger.
Confusion.
Disbelief, yet again.
Packs bags infront of parents as they refused to communicate with me like an adult; ironic.
"Why are you overreacting like that?"
"Why must you pack your things and leave? You can't even talk to us like an adult. Can you stop being so over-dramatic?"
Stares at my arms of scratches.
Packs anyways.
//
Fast forward to now.
Here I am, typing this on the fancy Razer keyboard I bought to put in my boyfriend's home - a purchase I do NOT regret one bit.
The reason why I'm typing all these out is because I needed a reason to remind myself this:
It's ABSOLUTELY OKAY to cut off toxic family in order to protect yourself.
Something I never felt I could do growing up, as being Asian, I felt I needed to be the kid my parents wanted me to be (but I obviously could never be). I felt as though I needed to give back to my parents for raising me for the past 27 years.
"The suan ming shi told us that you would treat your friends better than you treat your own family. See la see la, he was right."
Growing up, I had that line used against me one too many times from my dad.
My favourite instance of this was him using it against me when he dropped me off in sec 1 for my camp as he watched my classmates warmly welcome me from his car when he dropped me off. Not sure what I did so wrong then..?
And here's the thing: family can always be chosen family.
I have many families outside of my biological ones - CP's family, who treats me with more warmth and love than I've felt; his mom who comforts me and shows me love; my childhood bestfriends, who grew up with me and saw me through thick and thin, and spent time outside with me when I dreaded going home.
My dance and DMC family, also another group of friends who watched me grow.
And now, my parkour family. Family that support me regardless, and are full of warmth and encouragement. Some of them (you know who you are) are my safe space, and I am extremely thankful for that.
(and more, of course)
Gwen, it is absolutely okay for you to choose who family is and what family means to you.
It's not like you asked to be born anyways lol. But now that you're here - and have been here for 27 years, you deserve to live a life full of love and laughter; a life where you can be yourself without being judged; a life where you can have many safe spaces.
In this moment, I've officially been living in CP's home, away from my own, for a little over a month.
Other than that, my parents haven't tried contacting me, and my brother says not once have they asked about me. Womp womp...
Guess that's that, then. Growing up, I always was a people pleaser and I identified that it's because I always felt I had to please people - such as my parents - in order to be loved, appreciated and accepted. Now I realise that... that is far from the truth.
Now I'm realising and reaffirming that I can cut off toxic people in my life in order to protect myself and more importantly, to heal and to learn that I can love and be loved.
And that I shall do.
In the meantime, thanks CP and family for loving and protecting me and showering me with all the love you can give. Mega appreciative <3