Why I refuse to believe my parents are proud of me

Life is strange sometimes. You grow older, you reflect, and sometimes things never feel like they change. Perhaps, I was too self-entitled. Many things happened in my life. However, with the good and the bad, I didn’t want to grow up so confused. I think what people say when they are angry many times reveal their true feelings about you. My parents cared about me in their own way, and I guess that was good. They were financially supportive, and they view me as the continuation of their genealogy which is one of the most important things in their eyes about me.

In this day and age though, with all said and done, I refuse to believe my parents are or ever will be proud of me. This is likely regardless of what others say, or what they even tell me themselves. I been taught since a very young age that many of the things I do, my goals, my ambitions, and my dreams are massive failures. I been taught to hate much of the essence of my being and my very own personality and self. Therefore, living most of my life thinking of myself as a burden, it is hard to move passed what you have been told for over two decades.

My father always worked overtime, and the only moments I would talk about my personal issues with him, it would mostly end in embarrassment or bitter disappointment. To this day, he almost knows nothing about me as a person. My mother was very two-faced and either guilted me, acted like I was incompetent, tried playing the soft role, or lashed out.

As much trouble as they got me out of, and as much as they tried communicating with me, I was always the prevalent problem.

I been told for years and years that many of the things I do are meaningless rubbish and that I am an embarrassment. Both sides of my extended family also don’t have the best relationship with me. My cousin whom I used to look up to, doesn’t have a close relationship with me either. He went out of his way to help various guys in the church that he isn’t even related to and went out of his way to mentor them. Me on the other hand, it comes to a total shock that I’m even related to him. I don’t have a relationship with my grandparents anymore. I refused to speak to them.

As hurtful as many things were, I can only think that having closure is never something possible. I will probably never even understand myself, so I can’t expect them to understand me. That being said, all I can do is get lost further in my work. I do believe that trying to build personal progress or chasing specific goals is a decent distraction from pain.