My dysfunctional family — Part 2
I grew up chubby & damn cute (‘cute’ only in the eyes of my aunts though!). Other leaner kids on the streets and few classmates at the school started bullying me for being fatter than them. Due to constant body-shaming, I started developing a dual personality — shy & silent at school, loud & cheerful at home.
My family seemed normal to me just like any other Indian family till I was 11. We used to eat together, laugh together, watch cricket matches on TV, celebrated festivals, birthdays & anniversaries, go on short trips and all that stuff every other family does. The problem began few years after we moved to Lucknow. I got more fat in my teenage and an eye sore to my entire family, their friends & relatives. No news channel could have gathered so many headlines in a day compared to the number of fat loss advices I used to get daily. Top 3 were:
- Drink lemon & honey in hot water
- Run 10 kms
- Drink hot water all the time
What is a home? It’s supposed to be a safe place where a person can take refuge from the flaming arrows of criticism, anxiety, tension & worry. But mine became the place to suffer the flaming arrows of criticism, anxiety, tension & worry. My elder sister got diagnosed with Chronic Renal Failure in 2001. Since then, my family started falling apart bit by bit everyday, every moment. My father started spending long days at the hospital with sister for her treatment. My mother started venting her frustration over us. We, both daughters, were always criticized in front of our relatives, parents’ friends and even strangers. Our creativity, our talents, our interests never mattered to them. They never believed in us. We were constantly compared with other children over academics, nature, shape of nose, hair, height, weight, complexion and now as adults over career & salary package. I tell you, It’s possible that one day we might run out of drinking water on the Earth, but my parents’ will never run out of parameters to compare us with other people in order to demean & demoralize us.
The verbal abuse started getting filthier with time. I didn’t even realize when we got used to being verbally abused with hindi sexual slangs like raand (slut) & gaand (asshole) by my mother. I have heard these words from a really young age when they used to sound like some unknown language. I was later enlightened with their meanings and suffered a delayed shock. My mother has a huge dictionary of most creative abuse words that can be fully utilized in the script of Mirzapur Season 3. Although she might demand royalty as MONEY is the most important thing in this universe for her so scriptwriters beware!
In the above paragraph, I might have painted a really bad picture of my mother but I don’t blame her entirely for her rude behavior. She was traumatized because of her son’s death. She has always felt neglected by her husband who never took care of her & the children in early years of marriage. So, somebody got to be her punching bag, right! Who better than her own daughters whom she fondly calls “Jhontwalia” (long-haired witches)
None of my parents know a lot of bad stuff happened to me because they were never able to earn my trust to confide in them. I have been molested at age 3 by a jeep driver with whom my father had left me alone so he can go & dance in his little brother’s baraat (wedding procession). I have forgotten most of the incidents happened at that age, but I just can’t forget how terrified I felt that night, that emotion has been burnt and etched forever in my mind. When that asshole driver slid his hand under my frock, rubbed my thighs and made me put my hand on his bare dick, yuck! He even tried to get me asleep but I was too horrified to close my eyes. When my father returned to pick me up, I didn’t utter a word & just told him that I wanted to wash my hands. It wasn’t my father’s fault as sex education was non-existent in early 90s of India but still I felt angry on him for many years. The irony was, in my 20s, when I was a young well-educated intelligent girl, my father kept advising me how to not go alone with boys to parties as they might take advantage of me by intoxicating me through a drink.
In 2013, I finally received a bail from my prison house in the disguise of a career opportunity in New Delhi. After much resistance, I moved , settled & joined a new organization where I met new people, made new friends. First time ever in my life, I felt free, light, responsible & grown-up. For a change, Nobody was there to constantly shout at me & tell me how ugly I looked, how bad were my math grades, how I never had anything good inside me. Bullshit, those self-improvement books that tell you to keep fighting, keep struggling through the toxicity. I tell you, it’s always the best thing to do whatever you must to ESCAPE the toxicity and save yourself!
Switched jobs, moved to Gurgaon in 2016, joined a nearby elite gym, trained like a beast under a talented & knowledgeable coach who made me lift heavy weights (115 kgs deadlift), lost more than 30 kgs in 1.5 years, got lean & strong and proved everyone fucking wrong. My parents who used to call me bulldozer, black fat buffalo, elephant and anything heavy that you can picture, I silenced them all for once, and I am so so proud of MYSELF. My fitness journey not only made me bold & confident but also constructed the deep sense of self-worth which was left void for a long time.
Whenever I come home during holidays, the level of abuse between my parents keeps sky rocketing. They don’t love each other neither respect each other. They sleep in different rooms since many years now. Despite of daily abusive fights, they are together because they are too old to go anywhere else. Whenever I return to this toxic place, I feel so drained, sad & depressed most of the time. My mental health takes a toll as I feel more frustrated lose my temper easily. It’s somewhat weird as I don’t understand why do I feel excited to be home every Diwali and then can’t wait to escape again & return. Maybe, living in the proximity of toxic parents seems better than being all alone? Maybe!
They are getting old & weak. They have high BP & Diabetes. They need us. But no matter what we do, it will never be enough for them. We will never be enough for them. Still, I will be there to take care of them whenever they need. Because, I have one distinguished feature that I inherited from none of them, Empathy!
If you are reading this & have been locked down with your dysfunctional family, don’t lose hope, you are not alone. One day, you will escape & save yourself.
Read Part 1:
https://supriya-verma2009.medium.com/my-dysfunctional-family-part-1-262b8533a174
