Human Stress Ball
It was a huge festive dinner at my grandmother’s place. Most of my relatives from my mother’s side were there, all the cousins, uncles, and aunties that I don’t usually get to see. My memory is foggy but I assume I was doing shit happy and playful children do. Probably running around, being loud but having fun. Out of nowhere, a slipper hits me in the face with the speed of a Lebron James pass. This was followed by shouting from my dad. I just looked around dazed and seeing everyone’s horrified faces, collectively afraid to speak up. This is where my memory ended and to this day I’m still wondering, what the fuck did I do to deserve that? I probably wasn’t even 10 yet. All I remember is the feeling of helplessness, no one daring enough to step in and stand up for me. Or maybe this is just an internal family affair and relatives shouldn’t step in?
Most of the time I feel like I’m not allowed to be happy in front of my dad. I remember coming home as a family. For some reason, I got myself a Hong Kong flag so my child logic dictates that I have to run around and wave the flag like a real patriot. Turns out I crossed the line when I started running on the sofa. Yup, that resulted in an ass beating. If I was lucky it would just be with his bare hands. My dad was like Macgyver with his resourcefulness, anything close by will and can be used against me. I can never look at coat hangers the same way again. Another tool that was handy was a belt because it was always on him. My only response during the beatings would simply be to cry in my mom's lap while my dad made fun of me for crying and he responded by laughing. He laughed at the weird high pitched noise I made when I tried to talk but was still crying. If I was lucky, my mom would try to tell him to hold back, yelling that he went too far this time but that would only enrage him.
I used to complain about insomnia to my parents and they would joke that the only time I slept well was after a good beating. Apparently crying myself to sleep was my favorite way of coping. I would love dreaming about being a soccer star and recreating moves from the anime Captain Tsubasa. All the beatings taught me to become an emotionless husk of myself. I just sit still at family dinners, afraid to show any feelings. Can’t afford to give them any more reasons for punishment. I went from a typical naughty loud ADHD kid to a hermit, confined in my own room, my safe space. My mom would always say, the only time I get to hear you laugh was when you are inside your locked room playing online games with your friends.
Needless to say, I did not have the best relationship with my father. Other people looked up to their dad, saw him as a role model, best friend, and a safety net. I simply saw mine as a discipline dispenser. He simply saw me as a human stress ball. Every time he would come back from work stressed and saw me as a great outlet to let all his pent up anger go. Directly translating the anger from his fists to my body. I simply absorbed all his anger physically. It was for my own good, he said, he was only doing it for me. This is the shit I stay up late at night and think about.
What’s the point of making all that money when you can’t even have a conversation with your own child? To buy a bigger house so we can be even further apart in our own home? It reminds me of the Post Malone song Congratulations. “Work so hard, forget how to vacation.” When dad took us out for vacations, I would just be filled with anxiety the whole time. Spending 3 to 5 days with only my family was the last thing I wanted. On trips, most times I would fake sick, tell them I had a stomach ache so I was allowed to stay in my room the whole day. Now they don’t ask me to go on vacations anymore cause they know I would be miserable. The last place I want to be is stuck in a situation where I have zero autonomy, be constantly judged, and belittled for being myself.
Hearing other people’s stories about their relationship with their parents always made me feel empty. Same with watching TV shows or movies based on a father and son relationship. People say things like oh me and my dad are best friends we tell each other everything and he gives me the best advice. I did not know it was normal to be friends with your parents. I played years of soccer as a kid and never even got to pass the ball around with my dad and chat about school or girls I liked. When I was younger, I used to ask myself how I would feel if my dad just disappeared one day and the answer was always indifference. I would feel absolutely nothing and I simply felt like I didn’t need that kind of relationship. I replaced that relationship with parasocial internet personalities that tended to give advice to unguided and lost youths. Instinctively I escaped and looked towards the internet for the solutions to all my problems.
Looking past all this with the perspective of my 21-year-old self. It took me a long time to forgive my dad for the things he has done to me. Last several years, he has taken to Buddhism and feels like he has really changed for the better. Every time I talk to him, he has a very apologetic tone and keeps repeating how he should have treated me better and spent more time with me. My dad now carries this zen vibe but I still get scared if I would do anything that would just detonate the bomb hidden inside him. My mom is a saint so I could open up about my problems with weed addiction but I have no idea how my dad would react if he found out. While I still get anxious when talking to him even to this day, learning about his own childhood helped me make sense of my upbringing. His dad did all the same things and kicked him out around 16 for him to make his own living. The bigger problem is the Chinese culture we are raised in.
Whenever I seemed to talk to people about getting beat as a kid, it seemed like most people I knew also had a similar experience. When I brought something up, they would say ha my parents did this and more, etc. It almost seemed like a competition to see whose family physically abused them more. The fact that this seemed normal was more depressing than my individual experience. To give more context, kids are seen as a reflection of the parents’ teaching. Parents often compare the accolades of their children for their own ego. Whenever people see a naughty kid in public, they would judge them as “No home teach” (Literally translated from chinese) which just meant they weren’t raised properly.
This was more of a rant than a laser-focused essay. I just wanted to reflect on my upbringing, how I became the person I am today, and lastly, to apologize to my siblings. To Nicole and Toby, I am sorry for not being the brother I could have been. I spent my adolescence hiding away in my room, waiting for life to pass me by. To Nicole, I am sorry for not being more responsible and being a brother you can rely on. I am sorry for always getting into fights with you when our parents would just pit us against each other and just ask us to solve our problems together, which we never did. I wish I could have been there for you always and I hope this mutual experience with our parents bonded us further. To Toby, I am sorry for doing the same thing I criticized dad for and never got to watch you grow up as much. I finally understand why boomers always say, oh you grew up in the blink of an eye because I felt this deeply with you. I didn’t connect with you enough before I left for university and now you are almost taller than me. I wish I appreciated the times where you would just watch me play Rocket League in my room and keep asking me if you could play too. I was such an asshole and never let you play and now all I want is for us to just play a game or two together. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to be nicer to you instead of just being annoyed and irritated. I am really sorry and hope I can be a brother you can look up to and be proud of.
