re: resentment / the weight of understanding
In response to resentment.
i had been the model oldest daughter […] as a matter of fact, i had pushed so hard i had completely burnt out. and sitting alone in the ashes of my own fire, my hopes and dreams, my grit, my effort, i realized that i was carrying a deep resentment towards my parents.
— Karlitahehe, The Voice Notes Chronicles
At one point, I thought feeling betrayed by my parents was a trap I had set for myself. I have always been the thankful, dutiful eldest sister who recognized my parents’ sacrifices for our family. I understand before I react. I could never feel hurt being forced into a caregiver role at age twelve, because I knew money was scarce and my parents did their best.
It wasn’t until both of them came back that I realized that perhaps I, too, was wronged. And even then, my grasp was slow and gradual. It first manifested itself as “over-independence”, the kind that made my mother use the same adjective against me in the same breath as heartless. My father used it as an excuse to treat me as a financial fallback. It was only recently that I realized it should not have been an honor to be a parentified daughter.
My resentment, and the guilt afterwards, bleeds through people who ask me for help — especially those who are older and therefore “must be more mature”. I’d almost always flinch mentally; my brain remembers the face of my jailor and would desperately instruct my body to flee.
Every time an adult asks me for something so simple, the child inside me screams, “I had to learn this on my own when I was younger than you. Why should you get help when I didn’t?”
Even now, I still have problems asking for help myself. It felt like giving the other person leverage against me. As if vulnerability was an ammo to a gun disguised as generosity. I have survived as an island out of necessity; why wouldn’t I be able to by choice?
Obviously, those thoughts are wrong. Looking at myself from the outside, I know that belief might be hurting me more than the false comfort it provides. I’m still yet to discuss and navigate this in therapy, but in the meantime, I’ll try to take down the walls one brick at a time.