Ok. Final part. If I’m writing about trust issues, then I also have to mention my mother. She raised me. My father was also present in my life, but not emotionally involved. He worked hard day in and out to provide for his family, and when he was home he got to emotionally check out, and relied on my mother to take care of business with the children. It’s a common story, right.
So, my mother raised me. She was the good guy. She was the bad guy. She was all the guys. She was the one who showed up for me in her own way, and she was usually the one who denied me.
She was the one whom I usually headed butts with because she was there.
My mother raised me pretty conservatively, holding on to ideas and traditions that she was raised with, not agreeing with the White Dutch culture that I was also growing up in. Manai ka bolie (“What will people think?”) is a sentiment that I’ve heard come out of her mouth countless times. She was very controlling and didn’t respect boundaries (listening in on my phone calls, making me feel bad for wanting to be with my friends over family, etc.). As long as she could control me, everything was fine. If I talked back or didn’t listen, then that resulted in conflict. My mother was never taught to regulate her emotions in a healthy way, so she’d lash out at me for behavior that didn’t require such a big response. For example, as a tween, when I came home from an Afghan friend’s house and had put mehndi on my hand for the first time. It looked so pretty, and I loved it, and I felt connected to my roots. My mother shouted at me because according to her, mehndi was only supposed to be put on as a marital ritual. She blamed me for doing a bad thing. I felt bad, for upsetting my mother over what I thought was supposed to be a fun moment. Her reaction was a lack of knowledge and lack of emotional maturity on her part. Shouting and screaming is her second nature, and she’s claimed she can’t unlearn that (but let’s be real, she didn’t want to put in the effort).
Growing up, I really resented my mother for how she limited me, how she tried to instill fear in me, for shaming me, for blaming me for things that were not within my control or understanding, for always shouting at me instead of talking to me, for not letting me think for myself. She’d conjure up all these situations of how the people I chose to have in my life would or could endanger me. Ludicrous, I thought. I trusted my friends. People aren’t out to hurt me, I’d argue (ironically she was the one hurting me with this behavior).
A common thought pattern I’ve had in my head about her is that I just don’t understand her logic.
Her logic wasn’t rooted in reality, it was rooted in fear and distorted perception. Clearly, I didn’t know that was my mother’s trauma speaking to me, controlling me, and denying me. Why would I?—I was a child. Time, therapy, and (unfortunately) self-awareness afforded me more insight. Not just into my mother, but also into myself: I’ve twisted reasoning too. I’ve distorted perception too. Her trauma, her paranoia, I inherited those in the form of depression, anxiety, people-pleasing… and so many trust issues. It’s why I’m emotionally distant, it’s why I keep people at a distance if I can (except for a safe few), it’s why I’m closed off and closeted, because I’ve been hurting for so long, and it’s just easier to check out than to continuously endure and endure. And be in pain. I can’t be in pain all the time. That’s generational trauma. That’s coping mechanisms. That’s surviving. There are probably other matters that I’ll still have to unpack at some point in my life, when I’ve more space for it.
After listening to my mother’s stories of traumatic experiences she’s endured (though she’d deny that they’re traumatic, because of a lack of understanding and she’s fine now—she’s not), I understand it’s a combination of her PTSD, her anxiety, her paranoia, and her emotional immaturity. She did her best, and her best was very limited because she didn’t know any better and there weren’t any acceptable recourses for her.
I’m not saying that makes her behavior ok
Nothing makes her behavior towards me ok. She may have been a victim in many situations, but she wasn’t one in her relationship with me. Still, I understand where it comes from, and it gives me a teensy bit more patience with her, more empathy for her, as long as she keeps trying to respect my boundaries. Then I’m willing to try too. It’s a two-sided relationship after all.
I guess in that sense I have somewhat internalized the “Family is everything” narrative too, just limited to my nuclear family. I wouldn’t want to lose my parents, not even their conditional love (as fucked up as that is), not even in spite of everything, not even with all the anger and resentment and pain that I’ve felt (and sometimes continue to feel).
I know that my parents are trying in their own flawed way to meet me halfway, and that counts. So, yeah, that’s where I’m at. Trust issues, and all.
As I said, there’s still a lot to unpack.
Oh, and for the sake of equality, I’ll point out that my father didn’t come out scot-free either. I resented him too. He let it happen. He was a parent too, but he took a backseat and let it happen. I’m willing to have forgiveness, patience, and acceptance in my heart for both of them.
That’s the way I choose to move forward right now, free(r) from their emotional shackles.