This week has been really tough. For first finding out about how I’ve been seen and judged, as someone who hustled my partner into marrying me years ago. An accusation which I have never expect from someone in the family whose got higher intellectual capacity, and would think about that way after what my husband and I had been through all these years.
When a family member wields disapproval and commences judgment, in the light of one’s vision about family, it is considered as a silent form of violence. Silent torture of rejection and ridicule as they shamelessly utter prayers and praises just to show they are perfect and flawless in character.
I have vowed to behold my relationship in the spirit of acceptance, spiritual growth and being content, and seemingly my plan on doing this is something that I really have to work out with my partner’s help. Thankfully, he stands by me in every way; in every ordeal that I have to face with all the judgmental people around us.
I uttered mantra, enough with issues and crying. What’s done is done. There is always a fine line to knowing how to balance things, and I believe that being the underdog and the most judged person in the family, I come to accept that somehow it is best to accept what they say not because I acknowledge that I am weak and doormat, but because it’s probably the best that they know and their capacity to accept new members is somewhat by matter of standards.
Finally, as the weekend draws, I remind myself that it will be a happy one. A pace of remembering what actually put me in the relationship for at least 6 years and what keeps us going.