In my childhood days, there’s one thing that I fear a lot; one that I always tried to dissuade by doing what I thought was right. However, I always end up still crashing, still doing what they say was wrong. One time, my father yelled at me saying, “you never did anything good!” That hit me harder than any plank or spank on my bottom.
At that point, I did not want anything but for the ground to swallow me whole. I was the candle in the jet-black room; silent and bright yet fragile with the wind’s gush of hiss.
I have to come clean; I was never the intelligent, do-good child. I was the lazy hands, break-it-all kid who never got the favor of his father at the early age. That was the fear. Ever since that soul-breaking day, I have developed a fear of doing anything wrong in front of my father. I have developed an attitude where I have to think first of what to do and how to do it whenever my father is around. I don’t want to make a mess. I run-through what I must do in my mind, repeating it twice before doing it.
I am a different person in front of my father even today. My mother could attest to that. I am not the voice-out lad during breakfast in the midst of my father. Still, even today, I fear of making a wrong move, afraid to hear that spine-shackling phrase again.
That was the reason why all my life, I tried doing what I think would please both my parents (my father most especially). I know I was never intelligent but I pushed myself to prove that I can be diligent. I never excelled academically during high school, but I joined contests, represented my school to inter-school competitions, directed the school’s annual musical play, won best director and best technical director. All to make them see that they can be proud of me.
I did excelled, though, in my college days. Still, I joined some academic and non-academic contests, represented the university to three inter-school competitions (Rookie Debate Cup, Peace Journalism Training and Seminar, City-Wide Extemporaneous Speaking Contest) while maintaining favorable grades. Again, all I did to please them.
You never did anything good!
I was a child when I heard that sentence. I was a child who had little to none idea of the eventual consequences that sentence might bring. I was a child of age seven or eight when I developed this fear. I am now a young-adult but I still can see the face of that child at verge of tears, standing in the living room of our old house. I was a child when I promised to do everything to make them – my father most especially – proud of me.
I am now a young-adult of age twenty-one, but that child still lives in me. Still wanting, still yearning for that approval from the father he knows he love dear, but fear most of all. (by Juseph Elas)