Tough Talk

Today is a monumental day for me - 20/05/2020

I've been pretty good at keeping things under wraps and keeping my journal entries only in my red hard-covered Moleskine but today is definitely one for the books.

I spent a beautiful day with my father today; which is a rarity given the fact that we both don't stay under the same roof and also, MCO. But unlike any other day where I've gone home to visit the family, I got to spend one-on-one time with the man who raised me.

We went for brunch at one of my favorite cafes in a part of town I adore - Bangsar - and sipped on bitter, black coffee just the way we both like it. Dad couldn't decide on what to order so he went with the first thing he saw on the menu, The VCR Big Breakfast, which had everything from sourdough bread, scrambled eggs, turkey ham, sausages and I went with my basic Avocado & Smoked Salmon on toast. I was reeling with excitement just cause I got to do brunch and to share it with my dad? That hit a pretty sweet spot.

But it was a few munches into our meal where I knew that if I did not take this opportunity to have a heart-to-heart with my dad, I'd regret it forever. So instead of just making small-talk and talking about law, work and nosy relatives, I decided to jump right into it.

For as long as I can remember, I've lived with the fear of being my true self with my parents. As a kid, you only tell your parents about what the other kids got into trouble for but when it's about you, they'd have to find out from someone else. But I guess this fear began way back when I started having boyfriends at the age of 14/15 eventhough I wasn't supposed to. You know how when your parents ask you about who you are hanging out with and if he/she is of the opposite sex, you'd downplay it and say that he/she is just a friend when they really aren't? That's how it was for me.

I was so scared that my dad would confiscate my phone, ground me and basically just give me hell for concentrating on other things that didn't benefit my grades. Even when I graduated from high school and went off to college, I carried this fear with me. So that's when little white lies started creeping in. But the thing about lies is that - white lies or not - once you start telling a lie, you'd have to tell another lie to cover up the lie you just told and another one to cover the last. It's a never-ending cycle.

Even until today, at 27 years old, when my dad asks me where I am or who I'm with, my first instinct is to lie. I'm not proud of it but it has been my survival mode for the longest time. But today, what with everything that has transpired, I've come to the realization that there's goodness that comes with living an honest life - a life that doesn't need to be hidden from the people I love, especially my own father.

In the span of the 2-hours we spent at the cafe, I told him everything I've left out in the conversations I've had with him and filled in the gaps to events of my life which I've kept hidden from him.

I told him about the events that took place when I was readjusting to life after Singapore - the highs, the lows and all the in-betweens'.

I told him about how I had to experience first-hand everything he told me to never get myself involved in and warned me about.

I told him about the 3 a.m drive, one horrible night, which almost costed me my own life.

I told him about the family who took me in as their own daughter and whom, until today, still treat and care for me like one of their own.

I told him about the company I've kept but have long said goodbye to.

I told him about experiencing anxiety and getting a taste of depression, even though I wasn't fully aware of it at the time.

I told him about the (supplementary) source of happiness I now have in my life.

Once I laid it all out on the table, I felt a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. There was nothing left to hide anymore. This was it.

I expected him to react in anger for keeping all these things from him but sitting right in front of me was a man who cradled me as a baby, changed my diapers when it was too hot (and mushy) to handle and took me out to explore the city during weekends just to come home with a Happy Meal; a man who taught me how to swim, to ride a bike and who helped me understand that one bad grade doesn't define your whole school term. A man who would sacrifice anything for his family, just to see them smile.

This man has seen me through every season in my life.

This man is my dad.

I was already fighting back tears from rolling down my cheeks. Instead of yelling or reacting out of anger like I thought he would, he sat looking at me with doe-eyes and in bewilderment as to everything I had just said.

He then told me that, "You have always been on your own path. I was just there on the sidelines to help push you back up or keep you in your lane whenever you strayed. I listen to the things you tell me and I know of the things you don't, but it was for you to decide to want to share it with me."

And just like that, everything fell into place.

I didn't feel the need to lie anymore, or keep anything hidden. I didn't feel the need to stress about 'What if dad found out?!'. I didn't need to panic and think about my next comeback if he were to ask me about my whereabouts.

I just needed to be me - plain, raw, honest. And for the first time in a long time, that is enough.

___________________

A little birdie once told me (not too long ago) that there's beauty that comes with honest communication - in saying what you truly feel rather than sweeping things under the rug. Not everything needs to be left unsaid.

Sometimes, all it takes is a little dash of courage and a listening ear, coupled with the willingness to create an open space for the other party to do the same for miracles to happen.

- Love, K xx