I grew up in what is called a broken family. A broken family is where communication is blocked or if they (parents) tried to communicate, they did it by shouting and screaming and sometimes physically abusing each other.
As a young child looking at my parents in a physical scuffle was most terrifying. I was worried more for 6 feet, 100 kg (almost) young 40-year-old dad than for my 5’2” inch tall 30-year-old mother. The reason is that it was my drunk mother who would start the brawl. In a 5-year-old mind, I was in no position to understand the context of the fight. For a 5-year-old mind, it is WYSWYG ( What you see what you get). My mother was the villain of the family. She was a drunkard and a trouble maker. I couldn’t have been more wrong. She was the powerless and helpless woman, as a young woman uneducated woman, the only way she could fight was by screaming and shouting her pain and it took a lot of alcohol to get her there.
Without the alcohol, she was quiet, loving and generous. With a lot of support from the alcohol, she tried to fight back my dad, who was a VJTI Engineer and a prosperous businessman with cars and disposable income. He was the personification of success for all his 10/15 nephews and nieces, many of them whom he employed in his factory.
I think am like my mother except that I don’t drink.
There is a lot of pain inside me, which should come out, but I don’t want to do it like my mother by hitting the bottle. I am looking for other ways.
I think all that fight between my parents has damaged me badly. Still at this age, if I hear people screaming at each other, I get very irritated, I think it is not normal.
I cannot cry easily.
Because of the constant fight between my parents, I became a zombie. I never felt hurt. A counsellor/friend – Reetu Walia (She is amazing) told me that I live inside a beautiful palace where “hurt” is normal. I hated to admit, but that sounded a bit true.
As a teenager, I slept a lot, sometimes 13/14 hours a day. No, I never did any substance. I just was numb. Many strangers who met me as a teenager or a young adult told me I look like a Zombie. I felt insulted, as I always thought I was an intelligent person, I mean I read Sigmund Freud when I was in 7th Standard and enjoyed it thoroughly. Little did I realise they were pointing at my heart which didn’t feel anything. My heart had stopped feeling when I was very young.
It took me 7 days after my dad’s death to cry. I just felt numb for 7 days and went about doing regular stuff.
My heart opened a bit when I got separated from my kids
I guess God, wanted to do his bit. My biggest pain in life was when I got separated from my kids. Thanks to them, I am a bit more human. But still, my heart is half paralysed. I know if a tragedy happens, I will feel in weeks or months later.
It is a life/heart living in denial.
I am doing my bit to un-block my heart chakra. It causes me a lot of harm. All my decisions go wrong because my heart doesn’t talk to me. In love, the heart plays a vital role. I even missed a boat, when I realised I love a woman when she announced her engagement to me. Shucks, I said better luck next time. The heart laughs but cannot cry, because crying hurts. The 5-year-old doesn’t want to cry. He wants to block the images of his parents fighting but he cannot.
I hope, I succeed in unblocking the heart chakra soon. Wish me luck. In case you have succeeded in unblocking the heart, let me know. They say talking about it a good way to start.
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash