After 26 years, you still don’t realize that I don’t respond well to acts of service, gifts, quality time and physical touch.
Even if you can’t provide me with the above, it doesn’t affect me much. I don’t care if I don’t get fetched from school, I don’t care if you don’t buy me anything, I don’t care if you don’t spend time with me, and I don’t care how many times you’ve caned me.
And the opposite is also true. I don’t care if you cook for me everyday, or if you pamper me with gifts, or if you spend the entire weekend with me, or if you’ve hugged me tightly.
I like it when you encourage me, when you tell me I am doing a good job, when you tell me to pursue my dreams because you will be supporting me, when you can affirm me that everything will be ok.
The moment you say something negative or attach a negative label on me, it scars me.
I can remember my dad once flung a chair at me when I was little, but it doesn’t affect me much. Emotionally, physically, mentally, I am perfectly fine.. But when he wrote a post-it the next day and apologized, I broke down, because that’s how much words mean to me.
Likewise, I appreciate everything my mum has done for me, but I especially loved it when she said she’s proud of me when my students won the speech competitions. I especially loved it when she told me I was doing a good job.
But the moment she calls me a “poor guy” and “irresponsible”
I lose it completely.
The words just keep repeating themselves in my head.