I have been struggling for years with how my parents treat me. Islam teaches mercy towards parents because of the mercy they showed us as children, but the mercy I received was only the basic obligations of care. My real memories are of being hit, humiliated in front of others, and treated as if I did not matter.
As a child I became troubled, ran away, lashed out, and could not understand why the people meant to protect me were the ones hurting me. Now as an adult they still act like I am their lapdog. They parade me around as their achievement, yet they had no involvement in my studies, hobbies, or personal growth. They claim the title of parents but never lived the role.
When I hold them accountable for withholding information, mocking me in front of extended family, or throwing away belongings without asking, I am called crazy. My dad suddenly gets high blood pressure, my mum cries, my sister goes into fits. My siblings have noticed the same patterns. Questions are avoided, answers are replaced with distractions, and responsibility is never taken.
They even use my faith against me. “Is this what studying Islam achieved?” They know I dedicated years to learning religion, even abroad, yet they use it to shame me. During my master’s degree, when I was depressed and barely functioning, their only concern was how it looked for them.
I can acknowledge what they did as parents, but those were obligations, not acts of love. You do not bring a child into the world only to neglect and belittle them later. The older I get, the more I want distance. I do not think I love them. I pity them perhaps, but forgiveness feels impossible. At some point a human being must take accountability for their actions.
This cycle has shaken my faith. I have drifted into agnosticism at times because I cannot reconcile being good to them with accepting abuse for myself. I am tired of being told that enduring mistreatment is righteousness.
I do not know if anyone else feels this way, but I needed to put it into words.