by Luningning Sugbu

Created on: February 06, 2010

     Scoldings, screams, hurtful words, resentments, regrets, painful memories..........these are what punctuated the fabric of my memories when I was growing up. My mother was the most powerful person in my life at this stage and I was striving to comprehend the reason and the extent of her pain. Most of it as I understood in my young mind was directed towards my grandmother whose love and approval she so desperately wanted. On hot and humid afternoons during our siesta, she recalls how she didn't have a childhood for the simple reason that she was given a major parent responsibility which is the care of nine younger siblings. Looking at me with those wide, pain-filled eyes which seem to long for someone or something to erase those miserable years of waking up at 3 am to cook and clean the house and bathe all the kids later in the day right before going to school. All these chores given to a child who is only nine years old and at the cusp of exploring this wide and mysterious world but instead being made to face the miseries of poverty and thrust into the responsibilities of parenthood from a mother who is also a teenager herself.

     The way my grandmother and my mother's other siblings treated her told me they never appreciated her and even went to the extent of bullying her and taking advantage of her very low self esteem by resorting to emotional hijacking just to get her to do their bidding. Never did I realize then that those were the very destructive forces that drove the dysfunctional relationships evolving in our family. Her very low self-esteem made her too possessive and needy that she needed to be constantly assured she was the central figure in my life. She always had something to say about every kid I get to be close friends with. "Don't trust that friend completely because she is the jealous type," she would say. I can't even go to the movies or the beach with my buddies for her fear that out of envy, one of them would lure me into drugs or introduce me to a boy. 

     I always studied hard to be an honor student at school as my way of appreciation for the sacrifices she made for my sake but everyday, I have to walk on egg shells because of my mother's overcritical way of managing our household. Every mistake no matter how trivial, like spilling some sugar on the table is met with long periods of scolding and threats to ensure I would never do it again. These scoldings are highlighted

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