I wonder what the heart does when it’s kept something in for too long. And what exactly is too long? Does anything even happen really? You know, they use the analogy of still water festering. Have you heard that before? That if you keep something (like say hatred) in your heart for too long, that it then sits and festers until it becomes a sickness. And that sickness manifests itself in the form of self harm whether that be through depression, self-hatred or self deprecation, a constant feeling of self guilt. They say that things like this happen if you don’t communicate the hard stuff that you just need to let out.

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Communication. Maybe that’s it. Maybe its that you’re too afraid to communicate because you know its going to be hard, and that you might face conflict. I think all those self harm stuff is just a result of your fear. You hate yourself for being too afraid, for not being courageous enough, for not overcoming your failures or your problems. Keeping it all in, in a very very generalized sense, its kinda just a pansy move. You refuse to let people share pain with you and insist on taking it all yourself, because you’re too afraid of what might happen if you speak up. I think that is what happens to me I guess. Its amazing how extremely vocal I can be when I am alone pacing in my room talking to myself (lol), or when I am typing on this blog. But in the outside world I’m like a list of different people. Because some people can’t take the deep stuff, and I come off weird if I don’t so I have to just do the superficial stuff. And other people I am just naturally an awkward turtle no matter what I do or say or try because those people just intimidate me and I am much more of an introvert than most people think. I think I’m more of an introvert than even I think I am.

But anyway, yeah. The thing that sucks about keeping in your fears is that you never get to overcome them, or get to other side. You almost self-oppress yourself into this little bubble where you constantly fear any situation even remotely similar to the one you had before (in which you still have not overcome either). Box yourself in, imprisoned in fear, call it whatever you’d like.

I get it from my dad.

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The bottling stuff up thing. The fear of speaking out about it and choosing to hold it in until you just hate and hate and hate. I don’t think my dad hates himself though. But he has a lot of energy to hate others, and judge others. But I cannot even blame or act all high and mighty because I do the same thing and I’m probably worse. But he does do that nonetheless. When he is angry at someone he won’t talk to them forever and ever, until one day he decides to make a joke and we have to pretend were all good again. Even though 3 days later he may re-remember the thing he didn’t like and go back to being weird and aloof.

My dad’s dad yelled/yells a lot. When he gets angry his shout is so loud and aggressive that its almost scary. My mom said something about that once that implied that that is why my dad doesn’t speak up. When he is mad he doesn’t yell or hit or get aggressive, he just…. leaves. And you don’t know where or why. If he doesn’t leave physically he checks out mentally. He doesn’t tell you what is wrong and won’t speak unless its to tell you that you wasted food or didn’t turn off a light (both valid reasons to criticize though I guess, I’m really trying to get better at this gratefullness stuff). But its true he does.

I still wonder it. Why my dad left back then. Why he left and didn’t come back for three months. That’s my cage of imprisonment, being too afraid to ask him this. To ask him why he left and where he went. What happened when he came home and didn’t find anyone? Was he sad? was he mad? alone? Did he even care at all?

And then, why did he decide to come back? was it because he couldn’t tell his parents “oh i left my wife and were probably getting a divorce”, or was it for his kids? or was it for my mom? Is that why he left, because of his kids? Does he ever regret having us?

That is pretty much the full reel of questions but its been running through my mind a lot lately. My dad also doesn’t talk to me now not just cuz I yelled that one time, but because I didn’t choose medicine but psychology. There were a few days where he seemed supportive but most days I think he wakes up, remembers that I’m not doing medicine, makes himself angry and/or cranky, and proceeds to act aloof around me. Its frustrating. i feel like I don’t know anything about my dad. Like I know more about some strangers I meet in the ER than I know about my own father. Its difficult and confusing. But I guess that is what its like with Indian immigrant parents/the indian culture? That you’re not supposed to let your child into much of your life? maybe because if you do it is a sign that your child doesn’t trust you or something.

But even if that were true its not like I am a kid anymore that cannot understand things. I am a fully grown adult. And if we didn’t live in a time where college classes were financially crippling, and you could get a career/job without a college degree and still live well, then I’d already be out of the house right now taking care of my own (house that is). So what is it? I think its the idea that a child never really grows up in India. Till the day they die parents are the end all be all. and i mean in many respects, I really respect that. We live in such a world of jahiliyyah and disrespect to parents (myself included), that having a culture that values parents is definitely important. But even in Islam there is an understanding that at some point in a child’s life the leash has to be loosened. and eventually its let go. That doesn’t mean the child is gone forever, you hope that if you taught them well and loved them well that they will want nothing but to serve you. But to continue to force them in a manner of owner and servant, parent and child, authority and not, well that is a different thing.

In either case, I think I have blabbered on enough. Just things I wish I could truly get off my chest and have the courage to ask my dad you know? In all fairness I think if it wasn’t so hard to just speak with my dad (without him getting distracted every two mins), it would be easier to do.