Last year, I read a book titled ‘Reconciliation’ by Dr. Oh Eun-young. It shed light on a common struggle among many people seeking Dr. Oh Eun-young’s guidance: family conflicts, especially the profound and damaging wounds inflicted by parents on their children. It’s especially difficult to bear such wounds from parents who are expected to provide the utmost love and support.
Many adult children seemed to grapple with secondary difficulties as they struggled to forgive parents who had caused them this kind of pain. On the other hand, parents who had done their best to raise their children felt a sense of injustice, frustration, and sorrow when their children were hurt because of them.
Yearning for Liberation: Escaping the Grip of My Father
But this story wasn’t someone else’s, it was my own. I, too, had deep-seated conflicts with my birth father. Even though my father genuinely loved me, I longed to escape his influence. My father lost his own father to an epidemic shortly after the Korean War in 1950 when he was just a baby. Growing up in poverty under his mother’s care, he lacked a positive role model. He didn’t know how to establish spiritual, mental, or emotional authority to create a stable home.
My father held a strong belief that strict discipline molds individuals into righteous and resilient beings. Consequently, our upbringing was marked by excessive punishment and disciplinary measures. Under his imposing presence, my three siblings and I never truly grasped the concept of “forgiveness.” Even the most minor errors were met with stern reprimands, and there was no room for clemency for any missteps we, his daughters, made.
While I won’t delve into the details, there was one incident that left a profound and traumatic impact, and it was attributed to our father. Following that experience, my anxiety levels surged, and during my formative years, I briefly succumbed to the allure of dishonesty and petty theft. As I transitioned into adolescence and began to discern my father’s shortcomings and misjudgments, a sense of rebellion took root. The overwhelming demand for unwavering obedience became increasingly challenging to bear.
I felt an overwhelming resentment toward my father, who had the power to bring misery and desolation to our family’s hearts. In the endless pit of despair, there seemed to be no way out, except for one… and that was the hope that my frail father, who had been sickly since my childhood, would pass away. It felt like only then could peace finally find its way into our home. So, I prayed. I pleaded for my father to be taken from us as soon as possible… Can you sense the desperation in my plea?
Constrained Yet Unbroken: My Struggle for Freedom
Eventually, when I was in the 11th grade, my father passed away due to various complications. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel the sorrow of losing my father. I had already lost him emotionally and mentally a long time ago. Although he was physically present, there was no emotional connection between us.
What remained for me was a sense of disappointment in him for never uttering the words “I’m sorry” to his daughter before his death, guilt and a sense of wrongdoing for not being able to forgive the deceased, anger towards the God who allowed such a father in my life, sympathy for a man who passed away without receiving love even from his family, and the relief that I no longer had to suffer because of him.
Externally, I may have seemed unaffected, but simply experiencing these emotions was a sorrowful ordeal. I longed for a profound mourning and the opportunity to establish a normal father-daughter relationship, a desire that had eluded me for far too long.
I held a strong belief that, despite his many transgressions, my father had found his place in heaven. This conviction ushered in a newfound sense of peace in our family’s lives. Yet, the sorrow of separation, initially dormant, suddenly welled up, sometimes manifesting as silent tears during a book’s pages or a movie’s scenes, and other times as torrents of heartache.
The threads of unresolved conflicts and the sense of loss found their expression at times through quiet tears and at other times through cascading anguish. My father’s presence continued to occupy a significant space in my life. However, despite this, I was aware that forgiveness had not yet found its place.
For the Sake of Love
Motivated by the guiding principle of love, I made a resolute decision to lead a different life. I committed to raising my children without the coercive methods I endured under my father’s authority. During my college years, I pursued a major in Christian education, attended counseling classes, and passionately engaged my then-boyfriend in discussions critiquing the patriarchal tendencies of men. I held a firm belief that I could break away from my father’s mold.
However, when I eventually became a parent and began the journey of raising my own children, I had a humbling revelation. It became evident that I wasn’t the person I had envisioned. There were moments when I even considered that my father had shown more integrity than I did. My approach to parenting, at times, left me feeling like the villainous stepmother from the tale of Snow White.
I deeply loved my children and aspired to be an exceptional mother, but I grappled with how to consistently provide them with a sense of security and guide them with wisdom and tranquility. Whenever my kids squabbled, my response was unwaveringly scolding. When it came to imparting lessons, my eyes monitored them sternly, and my words flowed like a whip, brimming with judgment and criticism. I would discipline my children, justifying it with the phrase, “because I love them.”
I vaguely understood that the children were capable of doing things but were too afraid to do them. However, I couldn’t control my temper and sometimes shouted at them. Forgiving my children was difficult, especially when they kept making the same mistakes even after saying sorry.
Unmasking the Real Reason Behind My Anger Towards My Children: Misunderstanding Myself
There was a deeper cause behind my strong reaction to even the smallest mistakes or missteps made by my children. It stemmed from a fundamental misunderstanding I had about myself. Deep down, I saw myself as pitiful, foolish, inept, worthless, and devoid of potential. I was determined not to raise my children with the same sense of self-doubt that I had.
So, when I witnessed traits in my children that mirrored the aspects of myself I was dissatisfied with, I couldn’t bear it. I was resolute in my efforts to change this in them, no matter what. However, unknowingly, I was passing on my own low self-esteem and emotional wounds to my children, all in the name of ‘doing what’s best for them.
One morning, as my elementary school-aged child was preparing to catch the school bus, I inadvertently delivered a sharp remark. In response, my child looked at me with eyes filled with resentment and said, “Mom, you’ve ruined my day.” Although my words hadn’t been intended to come across as angry, it was the cumulative effect of well-intentioned yet incessant advice I’d been offering my child that had finally taken its toll, casting a shadow over their mood right from the beginning of the day. I felt a profound sense of regret and bewilderment, realizing that instead of contributing to my beloved child’s happiness, I had inadvertently become a source of their unhappiness
Empowering Parenting: Transformation through Nonviolent Communication
My journey toward becoming a better communicator reading Dr. Marshall Rosenberg’s book, “Nonviolent Communication.” When my child’s words brought me to the verge of tears, I turned to the insights from that book for guidance. However, when the time came to have a conversation, my mind went blank, and I struggled to recall the book’s principles.
In an attempt to connect with my child, I penned a heartfelt note, trying my best to follow the author’s guidance. As my child returned from school, I handed them the note, and its message unfolded something like this:
“Hi Josh,
I heard you say, ‘Mom you’ve ruined my day’ before you headed to the school bus. Those words touched me deeply, and my heart felt heavy. Do you know why? Because I want to see you grow into a happy individual, and I want to be a part of that journey. I’m truly sorry for being critical earlier today, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
With love, your mom
I may not remember the exact words my child used in response, but I could sense that my sincere intentions had a positive impact through the change in my child’s expression and the overall atmosphere. Nonviolent communication turned out to be not only effective but also the best way to replace my previously counterproductive parenting style. From then on, I became more mindful of my words and actions.
Regardless of how much we want to be good parents or how our own parents did it, I began to consider whether the way I was expressing my love might sometimes overwhelm my child’s emotions. The most helpful aspect of this transformation was my own process of healing.
Healing My Profound Emotional Wounds: A Nonviolent Communication Journey
I embarked on a journey to unravel my emotions, ones that had long been oversimplified as mere “irritation” or “anger.” I delved into the “feelings list” found in the book, seeking to unveil the genuine sentiments concealed beneath my surface reactions. Moreover, I ventured into the origins of these emotions, dissecting my unmet needs and values as presented in Dr. Rosenberg’s “universal needs list.”
This undertaking felt alien at first, given my lack of prior experience in this domain, and it demanded considerable time and effort. Nevertheless, the pursuit was unquestionably worthwhile. It brought me a profound sense of liberation from the nebulous anxieties and anger that had held me captive for so long.
Understanding that this process brought about healing and restoration, I became more open to acknowledging even the most uncomfortable emotions or needs that I had felt hesitant to discuss with anyone. After pinpointing my emotions and needs, I pondered how I could address those needs independently or with my children’s assistance.
My kids welcomed the change where their mom openly admitted her mistakes, asked for forgiveness, and sought their help. They found solace in the evolving image of a mother who no longer wielded authority from above with an air of superiority but instead displayed vulnerability. In this transformation, they discovered a sense of stability, and together, we embarked on a journey of recovery.
To be continued.