I Was Responsible For My Uncle’s Feelings — A Story of Self Worth
I had to make sure that he was feeling okay and that I was not annoying him. My existence could make someone annoyed and I was responsible for that. These are the thoughts my mother put in my head when I was just a child.
There are epiphany moments in life when it finally dawns on you why things have been that way or why you are like that. This is my story of realizing why I was an overly empathetic people-pleaser with low self-worth.
Every two years or so we would visit my maternal aunt and uncle, who only lived an hour and a half away. Together with my mom and sister, we would pack our bags — and also the food bags we had to drag all the way from home to the bus station and then to another station and then to their place— and got ready for travel. My mother never asked my dad for a ride and he would never offer, so this journey was something we endured. This was the physical preparation part.
My mom would also hold these sessions with me and my younger sister before the journey to mentally prepare us for our stay at my aunt’s. Just like every mother does she’d take her time to caution us to be on our best behavior during our stay, except that she would do it excessively for such well-behaved girls like us.
The non-stop restrictive warnings of my mother would continue during all the time we stayed at their place, which would make it impossible for us to enjoy our rare time with our cousins. On a typical day, she would wake us up earlier than the households, we would make our beds and keep the room tidy, have to help with the breakfast preparation, and set the table. The most painful stage was eating. My mother made us sit at the furthest seat at the table possible just to spare a better place for my uncle and cousins — which they never requested. We had to eat slowly and although there was no food shortage we had to make sure we didn’t eat so much. If there was a special dish we shouldn’t touch it until we were given it; we were not even allowed to touch the food we carried in our bags all the way from home.
At the table, if our fork and knife happened to make any disturbing noise or we got food on our fingers, my mother would pinch us secretly under the table and anxiously whisper to our ears saying, “stop it right now you are annoying your uncle!” In the meantime, she barely ate anything herself although she put much more effort into the meal than my aunt.
Ironically, as a guest, she would do her very best to make the host feel comfortable, even more comfortable than their ordinary life without us.
When we attempted to run around and play with our cousins we were given threatening looks by my mother and sometimes given very painful pinches to sit quietly.
We were kids who were pushed to adulthood.
At night time we were not allowed to go to the toilet after everyone went to bed — you get the reason, to avoid making any noise that could wake my uncle up.
My little sister and I, who were between the ages of five to nine at the time, were annoying our grown-up uncle during our two- to three-day visit. Of course, this was just what my mom thought. My aunt and uncle were very happy that we accepted their invitation to visit them and they liked us very much. It was not my uncle, he never even implied anything mean to us, in fact, he didn’t even talk much. He was just a quiet guy enjoying his retired life and mostly kind to everyone, including us.
Yet my mother made us think that we could make him feel uncomfortable with our being there.
This was an overwhelming job. Since my uncle was not very communicative I had to read his facial expressions, mimics, sighs, behaviors, and even his walk to make sure that he was feeling okay and that I was not annoying him.
I was responsible for my uncle’s feelings. My existence could make someone annoyed and I was responsible for that. These are the thoughts my mother put in my head when I was just a child.
Growing up I have been overly exposed to a variety of these situations ultimately causing very low self-value and worthlessness. The treatment we got from our own mother at such a young age also created huge unease and people-pleasing behavior that would stick with us for years and haunt us in our adult lives.
Prior to my epiphany, I wouldn’t understand why people are not empaths like me and how careless they could be towards other people. I lived my whole life in an alert mode constantly observing and feeling others.
She absolutely had no idea about the damage she created in her daughters. She was a wonderful person indeed and all she wanted was just not to become a burden to anyone.
Because now I know that somewhere in her subconscious mind she was a burden in this life, and so were her daughters.
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