*trigger warning* in this poem there is discussion of trauma, suppression of emotions and suicidal thoughts. please read at your own discretion

i didn’t really want to be a parent.

in fact, i had no choice.

except it wasn’t normal parenthood, cause i was told when i could use my voice.

i didn’t want to be a parent.

but what was i meant to do?

just let the flights break out, keep the voices raised, the uncertainty seep in, the pain continue, the fear be consistent?

i did it because it was all i knew.

the person to be confided in, to overshare every secret held within.

all the stories and pain, but i am the parent, so i mask it with a grin.

i hate to admit it, but sometimes i wondered, what it would of been like if i weren’t a parent.

if i had choices of my own, a place that feels like home, and actually had myself – instead of myself being there for you.

but that wonder quickly dies off because it wasn’t the life i was given.

but anyway, i am a parent, and a parent should not think like that,

i hope i will be forgiven.

i hold a soul where people feel safe and comfortable to come and talk to.

i engage, empathise, and listen to their point of view.

i enjoy it, i really really do. it makes me feel blessed that you feel safe enough to tell me what you’ve been through.

but i am also a parent, so i need to be weary of where i put my time and efforts into.

always the middle-man.

always the easy escape.

the person you tell all your troubles to, yet cover my mouth with duct tape.

but family is forever right?

i should be grateful i even have one.

i look forward to the day i get to welcome in my first daughter or son.

cause i didn’t want to be a parent.

i was only just a child.

a child who never learnt to express, she just sat there and smiled.

smiled through the pain.

smiled through the hard times.

she even smiled through the times she wondered if it’d be the last time.

when the child is the parent, throughout their childhood.

they grow up extra quickly, and whist they grow, they are misunderstood.

misunderstood by their peers.

misunderstood by family.

even at times when they are by theirself, they are still misunderstood.

not knowing how to be a child, not understanding how it works.

holding far too much empathy and emotional intelligence for their little brains own good.

feeling guilty when people are sad, like it’s their own burden to hold.

being indecisive when it comes to making choices, cause they are used to being controlled.

not knowing how to communicate, only how to listen.

and all the times they ask and plead “what is wrong”, “talk to me”, i just sat their in my room, all alone, not knowing why i can’t express my emotions and put them into words.

no matter how many times i tried or wished i could.

it’s funny how i could finish other sentences, or describe exactly how they were feeling inside when they couldn’t quite explain.

yet i didn’t know how to comprehend or process my own troubles and own pain.

cause i was the parent.

known as ‘the mother of the group’, the ‘old soul’, the ‘mature one’.

but the fact was, i only knew how to help those around me, cause when it came to within, i would rather run.

it took a very long time to realise i was a parent, as i just thought i was helping where i could.

you see, i couldn’t just turn them away after having a bad day, i had to try to turn it to good.

holding the weight of everyone on my own shoulders, but forgetting to let it go.

then wondering why i couldn’t understand myself, or why i was feeling so damn low.

i write this poem from a different perspective, as it feels like this was a long time ago.

as if my children grew up, and i got my freedom back, but that is far from the truth.

no matter the distance i place between myself, i will never get back my youth.

but, i found my purpose at such a young age, and now that is what i pursue.

chasing my dreams each day at a time, until my ambitions have come into view.

11/02/2025

-mao

don’t give trauma the power to control you, you deserve to live how you want. take control of your trauma.

-life advice from one survivor to another

you can always reach out to mao to get something off your chest, ask for a topic to be covered, or to give some feedback.

this can be your safe space, you are not alone in this journey.

you are amazing 🤍

-mao