how am I supposed to be gentle when I grew up in a house full of verbal violence
You really cannot expect me to be gentle when, in our house, we eat anger for breakfast, yelling for lunch, angry-whispers for snacks, and harsh words for dinner.
I grew up in a house where one wrong move and the elders get angry easily. One mistake and you will be getting yelled at. Failing is always equated with harsh, gut-wrenching words that stay with you especially on those times when you feel the most miserable.
I used to watch my father getting physically violent with my mother when we were younger. And although it scared and traumatized me to my core, I was also left wondering: Is that how we resolve problems? Or was that just how we show dominance — by imposing threat to people who are weaker than us? Is that how you win a fight?
When the following years, my father went to work on the other side of the country so my siblings and I were left in the care of our mother. One time when I tried to speak up during an argument, I just suddenly felt the sting on my right cheek. Then realization hit, I was slapped. Perhaps my mother saw my reaction, so she immediately said sorry and then we reconciled right after. Even though we resolved, I still carry the disbelief and the hurt I felt when my mother slapped me.
I was 12 then and until today, my mother has never laid a finger on any of us again. Except when she hits us with stick whenever she felt we were too much. But I see some other parents in our neighborhood do that so maybe that didn’t count as laying a finger. Maybe that was just how parents impose discipline.
I am 20 now and whenever we make mistakes, we were not hit with sticks or with brooms. Instead, there will be angry whispers and hours of reminding us of our shortcoming.
I am 20 now and whenever my father files a month-long vacation from work, we are still cautious when we are around him. We tiptoe whenever we know he’s drunk. We walk as if we’re walking on egg shell whenever he is around. We never had beyond three-sentence conversation with him.
I am 20 now, and although physical pain weren’t inflicted anymore, somehow those verbal torture hurt way much more because they resonate.
Perhaps I will carry this until I am old.
So tell me, how do I learn to be gentle when all I ever witnessed was violence?
