Parents, you implanted a beautiful rose full of thorns.
Growing up in a family where voicing out your opinions and concerns was often considered a sign of being "Bastos" (rude) is not easy.
I grew up in a family where every time I voiced out my concerns and opinions, I was often told rude.
The constant dismissal of my thoughts and feelings created a deep-seated sense of insecurity within me. It made me question my own worth and validity, leading to a fear of expressing myself.
Growing up like this really hurt my growth and how I feel about myself. It made me scared to stand up for myself, even when I should have. I often found myself suppressing my true feelings, leading to bottled-up emotions and a sense of internal conflict. This constant suppression took a toll on my mental well-being, contributing to anxiety and a lack of self-confidence. It also hindered my ability to form healthy relationships, as I struggled to express my needs and boundaries effectively.
Honestly, I’m angry. I’m angry that my voice was silenced, my thoughts invalidated, and my feelings dismissed. I’m angry that I was taught to prioritize obedience over authenticity. I’m furious that simply voicing my opinions and concerns was met with shouting, as if my thoughts were somehow an attack on your authority. I hated the way my voice was drowned out by your anger, leaving me feeling small and insignificant.
You presented a beautiful rose to the world, a seemingly perfect child, but inside, you planted thorns that have caused me pain and struggle. You may have thought you were teaching me discipline and respect, but you unintentionally stifled my voice and left me with a deep-seated fear of expressing myself. The rose you cultivated may have been admired by others, but its thorns have left me with wounds that continue to affect my life.
Sometimes, I look at the rose you planted, its petals so delicate and vibrant, and I feel a pang of sadness. It’s a reminder of the care you gave me, but it’s also a reminder of the pain that bloomed alongside it. The thorns, once hidden, have become a part of me, a constant reminder of the silenced voice, the stifled emotions, and the journey I’ve had to take to find my own strength and authenticity. The rose you cultivated may have been admired by others, but it was I who had to bear the weight of its thorns.
