It's not in my nature to be hateful, trust me I've tried.
When my mom yelled at me to wake up from sleep angrily, and called me a slur in her native language, I cried all the way to school but forgave her when she gave me the cold shoulder.
When my father made me get rid of my cats because they weren't abiding by his rules to his liking in his house, I cried and yelled and called him mean. But now I laugh and politely agree as he says things that I do not agree with.
When my friend got with the boy who caused me so much grief my therapist said I had trauma from it, I never talked to her again but I did forgive her.
It angers me that it's not in my nature to be hateful, it angers me that I forgive so easily that doing anything otherwise feels like torture.
But I see.
I see my mother, unhappy in her marriage. Different beliefs from my father, the older they get the more they realize that they indeed loved each other. But out of comfort, familiarity. And that they never liked one another, but the love was there.
But I see.
I see my father, staying in a country foreign to him even after 30 years, alone except for our company.
Still, it does not excuse the grief and guilt they cause me.
A whiplash of emotions, one day so loving and supportive that my teeth ache. The other day so filled with prejudice and covered up hatred that my heart aches.
They support me, help me, wish for me to be better.
It angers me that somehow they were also the ones putting me in this position.
But still, it seems that I just might be a horrible daughter, I might actually be the problem child they so often yell at me in the midst of their anger, hurriedly followed by kind actions the next day to cover their guilt. Never an apology, at least never one where they actually feel remorseful.
Their half apologies must be accepted in hopes they don't turn angry at me, angry for being hurt at their hurtful actions.
But they have their loving days, they have their good days, for a few days. Until it all comes crashing back.
Then again, I think I am just the problem child. It's me that's rotten from inside out, a poor excuse of a daughter and even poorer excuse of a human being.
The thoughts of a daughter from a healthy family... I suppose.
Is it not?
