No matter how deep the wounds, don’t let anyone at home know
No matter how deep the wounds, don’t let anyone at home know. I believe many people adhere to this principle. Living to hide many things, only telling and showing the happy moments. It’s not that there are no wounds, but it’s to protect the feelings of our parents. Many failures have been experienced, but none of them reach their ears. Especially for the firstborn, who is taught to be tough, to set an example for their younger siblings. Maybe not everyone is like this, but I am.
I feel that I must not fail, because then my siblings will follow my failures. I must not show weakness in front of them, I must not cry, I must be independent. But sometimes, this is very exhausting for me to live up to. There are many hidden wounds, many sorrows that are not revealed to protect the feelings of those at home. Sometimes, I can only express myself through writing, like this, because I can’t bring myself to tell unhappy things to my parents.
However, behind all the toughness I have to show, there is a fragile side that I cannot ignore. Silent nights witness my tears, the corner of my rented room always becomes my refuge, when all the burdens I carry feel even heavier. It feels like walking on a very thin line, keeping balance so as not to fall, while pretending to be strong. I know I can’t always be like this, but somehow, expressing all the pain feels far more terrifying.
Sometimes I wonder, is this the right path? By hiding everything, am I protecting them or hurting myself? In moments like these, I feel very lonely, trapped in a space I created myself. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the reality that I, too, am a human who needs a place to lean on.
Even so, there are moments when I feel proud of myself. Proud because I can face all the challenges without making them worry. Proud because I can be a sturdy pillar for the family, even in silence. Every smile they have is a reason for me to keep going, to keep moving forward even though the path I walk is full of thorns.
In reality, I am not a strong and independent woman. I cry too often over bad things or failures that happen to me. I want someone to lean on, I want a strong support system, I want to express all the feelings I have, but the reality is I don’t have that and I can’t do that. It is sad, but life must go on, right?
Maybe someday, there will be a time when I can be open with them. A time when I can say that it’s okay to feel weak, that it’s okay to cry. Until that time comes, I will keep playing my role as best as I can, keeping all the wounds and sorrows in my heart, and continue hoping that they will always be happy without knowing all the burdens I carry.
The smiles we show the world often mask the scars that lie beneath
LovAr
