Misunderstood

My parents tell me that they love me constantly.

Not a day went by as a child that they didn't tell me that.

The words were pretty, enchanting.

They put me under a spell,

I was too entranced to notice the invisible threads that they wove,

Trapping me in a web of complacency and guilt.

I didn't complain when they yelled at me,

When they trampled over my boundaries and feelings.

How could I?

"At least we don't abuse you."

"You're just being selfish."

"You don't understand that we do this because we care about you."

"Because we love you."

Words that pierced my young heart,

That taught me to bury my feelings deep,

To not let others in.

I listened to their poisonous words,

Believed that I was the bad one.

After all, maybe I was selfish

For not wanting my dad to hug me

When he was never hugged as a child.

For not appreciating my mom's advice

When she constantly lectured me about not being good enough.

My parents aren't perfect,

They're bound to make mistakes.

That's the lesson that I've had to teach myself over the years.

But it's difficult to forgive them

When they keep doing the same things.

I can't tell them what they're doing wrong

Without them excusing their behavior

Or accusing me of misunderstanding their intentions.

Their hypocrisy is too much sometimes.

I understand that they wanted to give us the lives that they never had.

That they didn't heal from their own trauma as children.

And they raised me well,

Always provided for me, gave me food and shelter.

Supported me in the way they thought was best.

But they don't understand me.

They don't understand that I don't like physical contact in general,

That I was doing the best I could to live up to their expectations.

They don't understand that they provided for me physically,

But disregarded giving me the emotional support that I needed.

I wish that love was enough,

For my sake and theirs.

But I would rather that they understood me than loved me.