a daughter’s dream of being heard and understood

I’ve lived my life with my voice being useless, as it is not easily believed by my parents. Uttering a word is an act of rebellion for them. In eighteen years of my life, I rarely feel heard or understood, or maybe I haven’t totally felt it yet in this household. And no matter how I push my words to be valuable, it’s still the opposite that they trust. In every disagreement, it always ends up with me breaking down in my room until I fall asleep with my pillow soaked by my tears.

It is my dream — to be heard and to be understood.

I was a kid chasing gentleness in a household full of cold shoulders and silent treatments. They provide everything for me except the emotional support I need the most. Instead of offering one, they are causing the emotional damage I wish I didn’t have. My words and emotions are often invalidated as they do not align with their belief. I was a lonely kid in my own home.

I had a hundred imaginations of what my life would’ve been if only I were in a gentler household. I could’ve become someone else, not this coward and traumatized self I am wearing today. I could’ve experienced the things I knew were meant for me. If only my voice were heard and valued, it would become much easier to be a daughter.

I was only young yet I had to think like I was an adult, as they had huge expectations for me. They think the outside world is a threat, yet the world we have inside is causing turmoil in my head. I am always with them, but every day I feel lonely. They are only a few steps away from me, but there is an invisible barricade between us, and as I try to reach them, I get burned.

All the emotions and thoughts I had as a kid until now are all left hidden in every page of the diaries I had. Only through writing do I feel heard. Only through writing do I get the freedom to express every word I longingly want to voice out, without any judgments and doubts.

I became the voiceless child, as uttering one word was too much. There are always two sides to the story, yet mine is rarely heard as it was always entitled as the wrong one. Tell me, Mother, does hearing my story hurt you more than it hurt me? Tell me, Father, do I not deserve to have my words valued and believed?

Please, tell me, for being left unheard and misunderstood are the most painful actions parents can inflict on their children.

It is my dream to be heard and understood, for all my life I have been labeled as the liar, the villain, and the rebel.