Trigger warning: domestic violence; suicidal ideations
This piece is not meant to show my parents in a disgraceful light. The reader is advised to exercise discretion while reading through the post.
Good evening, ladies, gentlemen and everyone else! Grab a cup of coffee and cuddle around your closest person, for I will be telling you a very beautiful story… About a fighting family.
We have often heard stories of beautiful families with happiness all around them. Let me tell you the story of a not-so-beautiful family. I hope it won’t bore you.
From where should I begin? From the story of my parents’ marriage? From the time of my birth or the time when I am living? I don’t know. Where did it all begin? Yeah, I think it all began with my mother and father’s marriage.
You know, when two extremely, extremely incompatible people marry and produce kids—they don’t know what their irreparable incompatibility will do to their children. They don’t. My parents’ had an arranged marriage.
My Parents Never Got Along
After two years of their marriage, they had a son. He hardly survived, for a day or two. He had lung issues. It was 1997. I was born in the year 2000. I heard from my mother that my father cried when I was born.
I think I was barely five years old when I first saw my parents fighting with each other. It was a bloody fight, as it has always been. At that point in time, I did not realise what it was all about.
But, the one thing I can clearly remember is that I was afraid. I thought that my mother would die. No, she didn’t die. She is alive.
Now, I am 22 and for all these years, I have seen domestic battles that would put to shame both the world wars. Okay, for the sake of chronology let me chart out out these domestic battles into two, inter-related groups:
1) Between my mother and father when I was young.
2) Between me and my father now that I’m a grown up.
My Father Doesn’t Want To Change
What seems clear is that my father has been a consistent warrior, throughout. We have always been a fighting family. No decision in this family can be taken without a serious opposition from the “great warrior”.
I have complained to all my relatives about his behaviour , but he is clearly resistant to any change. My father will behave the way he has always been, as if all these arguments for so many years never mattered to him.
He is what he is. Rather, he believes that we are at fault.
My mother, on the other hand, is equally adept in covering up every family feud. You will perhaps never able to realise that behind all the laughter, lies a burden of grief. In fact, as a daughter I am really unable to realise her grief. Is she really aggrieved?
I Have Been Fighting Back For All These Years
But, why has she been in this farce of a marriage? I have asked her these questions many times, but she is unable to give me a rational answer. In fact, I don’t see any rationality behind our family dynamics.
So, yeah, how can I expect rationality from someone who has always been at the receiving end of everything?
Now, I am left with myself. I am in favour of my mother, and I hate my father. I have fought and argued with my father, like an insane person would. I have cried, cried, and cried a lot. I have contemplated suicide.
I have cursed him, have prayed for his death, destroyed things and then again cried. What have I really been doing with my life for so many years? I have been fighting for what? My independence? From whom?
Sometimes, I look up at god and then, I put my head down again . I have realised that god is dead. In my moment of grief, I look for someone on whose bosom I can cry like. But, there is really nobody around me.
It Is Not Easy To Live In A Dysfunctional Family
I have no grandparents. I have no well-meaning relatives. I hardly have friends, and you can’t share everything about your family, with anyone and everyone. I am alone.
So, before I conclude this article, let me tell you all that it has taken me ages to open up about my supremely dysfunctional family. We have certain pre-conceived notions about a family. But, they are all not true.
A family can be many things, but do we really consider what a dysfunctional family can be like? What about the children of dysfunctional families? Who will listen to their stories without being judgmental?
I don’t know whether I will be able to survive my grief, and what is left for me to suffer through… But, maybe, someone or the other might come across this article and will not feel alone about living in a dysfunctional family.
It is a heavy cost to pay. You are made to suffer when you are really not at fault. You are hurt for life.