A house is not a home

If a violin string can ache, I would be that string.

For so long I have been strummed and plucked but I tolerated it. Now I’m damaged.

That is the reason why I have been wanting to graduate, not because I want to explore new horizons but because I want to break free from this prison cell you oftentimes call a home. Home is not just a domicile in an exact geographical location but home is where the heart is. It is supposed to be filled with love. It is where a child is hailed by her parents and welcomes her back to their loving arms in times of anxiety or even just in times of doubt. The home I’m living in is not even close to that demarcation.

I go home just to sleep, eat, and do all the hygienic doings. In times of ambiguity I have no one but myself to help me figure things out. I rely SOLELY to myself. I have my mom living under the same roof but I am not welcome to rush to her arms to confide my troubles neither to find answers for my doubts. We might be living under the same sky, under the same roof but one is treated like a stranger to another.  We know nothing about each other’s undertakings. I am an alien to my own home.

The other day one of my teachers in school came up to me and said, “Proud ko bala sa imo.” Tears rolled down my face because those are the words I longed to hear and I finally did but not from the person I wanted to hear it from but from the person I least expected.

My mom has been the wicked witch of my fairytale since high school. My high school life became a horror movie and college is a sequel. Last night we had a firmly big fight. There was an exchange of throbbing confrontations. She is so good at hitting the bull’s eye of my ego and I am not a martyr so I kept thrashing hers back. She even slapped me and I relentlessly raised my brows and rolled my eyes to mock her. Finally, she gave up and sat motionless.  

I sat down. I grabbed a book and read it. And there she was in my peripheral vision. I saw her staring at me but I pretended like I was riveted to the book I’m reading. Her stare lingered on me with grief and chagrin. She was sad and mortified of what I have become- a monster. Perhaps like me, she was wondering how it came to this point. She used to really take care of me. We used to talk about everything whether it be school or my friends or my personal life but that was years ago. Things changed severely and what was once a pleasant home is now just a house.

I noticed that the more I aged, the lesser the love I feel for my mom.

This is why I pledged to myself that I will be the greatest parent that I can be when my time comes. I will not be like my mother who is my number one detractor. I promise to bombard my children with love. I will acknowledge even their smallest accomplishments, listen to their tales of laughter, ease their hearts in times of defeat and most of all, be their number one fan when it comes to everything. This is my definition of a mother. A mother shields her child so that he/she wouldn’t be hurt by anything or anybody. I guess I am an exception to the rule because my own mother is the one causing me excruciating pain.

Last night at the party I hosted, some of our family friends approached her and commended her for raising a lass like me. It pained me even more when I heard her bragging about me. How could she boast of my accomplishments to other people when she couldn’t even tell me straight to my face that she is proud of me?

I’m not looking for big words like, “you make me so proud” or “congratulations”… All I’m asking for is for her to tell me meek words of encouragement like, “good luck” or “you can do it”. She loves me. I know she does. It’s just that she doesn’t know how to show it or she does not want to show it particularly to me.

I should have effortlessly found love at home but I keep looking for it elsewhere. I am no longer happy living in this house.

Just like violin strings, I am chained and the damage is already irreparable. I am incarcerated in this simple infrastructure which is MERELY an exact geographical location – NOTHING NEAR WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A “HOME”.