emotionally homeless

where weakness is forbidden.

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What I hate about this family is that I can’t be vulnerable, not even once. Because being vulnerable here means being weak, and they don’t like weakness. It’s the unofficial, unspoken rule in this house. You always have to be strong. You always have to be okay. You should figure things out quickly. You should do everything fast. You should always endure.

I’m so disappointed that I was raised in a family like this — a family where emotional and mental support barely exists. A family where shouting and bad-mouthing are highly normalized. Where expressing yourself becomes embarrassing. Where being yourself means facing judgment. Where crying is seen as weakness, and failure means you’re worthless.

I’m so sad that this is the way I was raised. I envy kids who grew up in healthy homes — kids who grew up wise, well-spoken, kind, and whole. I envy kids who can open up to their parents freely. Kids who can come home after school, hug their parents, and talk about their day. Kids whose parents actually listen. Because as for me? I survived on my own. I’m enduring everything on my own.

No one in this family cares about my emotional and mental health. Instead, they call me an idiot and weak, then mock me for it. They even make fun of people who struggle with depression or attempt suicide because of a lack of emotional support. They think those people are just “weak” or too consumed by their own thoughts and feelings. But the truth is, most of them simply needed someone to listen, to trust them, and to understand them.

It’s crazy how I’ve managed to survive like this — carrying on with life while having parents who are physically alive but emotionally absent. I refuse to become like this. I refuse to let my future children experience the same thing, because I know what it feels like to be emotionally and mentally neglected by the very people who brought you into this world.

All I’ve ever wanted was one genuine hug from you. One moment where I could express myself, share my thoughts and feelings while you actually listened and tried to understand me. To help me. To find solutions with me instead of against me. But no — you only made me bottle everything up even more. You made the dark space inside me grow wider, the place where all my thoughts and feelings are trapped. You never even bothered to truly care about your own child — about what was going on inside her head. You never asked if I was really okay. You never realized I’ve been suffering deeply for years, that I was already breaking long before I fully faced reality.

It’s so unfair. Life feels so unfair to me. Why is my emotional and mental state always at risk? Why can’t I just feel stable, even for a little while? Why do I always end up here, writing and crying over the same pain over and over again?

I’m honestly so tired. I keep going in circles with the same problems because nothing ever changes. They never change, and deep down, I know they probably never will.

I hate having to be strong all the time in this house. Can I please experience being vulnerable without overthinking it for once?