Pain

I constantly have troubles dealing with others. Maybe it is because of my mental state. But I am by nature not like that. I was originally mild tempered.

When I was at the age of thirteen, mama had to leave Miri for work in Brunei. And papa became strange overnight, very violent and unpredictable towards me. In the first dinner without mama,  he portioned out  food,  me receiving very little but Ah Hui and Weng Weng had much more. But when I complained, his face dimmed and moments after that, I was slapped.  

Yes, he had a hard time adjusting to the fact that he could no longer earn money for the family. We all knew that and had been trying to be considerate. But from then onwards, he always vent on me and I did not know why. When he was beating me, he used all of his strength, shouting and crying out loud.

When I was studying in Kuching, despite his Ill treatment of me, I still missed him and my siblings. So, when I finally returned home for good, I told myself to bury the hatchet and move on with life.

The first two weeks were peaceful.  Papa was gentle and was all smiles. But came the third week, he was different, constantly sighing or looking morose. One night, I asked what was the matter with him, and he burst into violent temper, crying and spitting venom at me. He left home and stayed at an inn, leaving me clueless and confused. 

The next day, Ah Hui returned home from the Committed Group. She had been staying there to receive training as catechist. She scolded me for mentally abusing papa. I was so shocked that I went speechless. Never in my life had I done this. 

Then I remembered. I had experienced the same thing at a young age. It had been twenty years before, when I was asking him why Mama was not at home.  Out of the blue, he punched me in the face, and left me bloody-mouthed and stunned. I was only six years old.

There was another time when he had roughoused me. It was during a New Year celebration, when I was nine years of age. At the sight of a lion dance prancing away, its face looking fierce as it bobbed and cocked its head,  weng weng became scared and went hiding in our bedroom. I was trying to calm him down , but suddenly, papa stormed in and gave me a rough beating. He stuffed me into a gunni sack, kicked and stamped on me while crying and cursing out loud. Midway through, I lost consciousness, and when I awoke, I was still in the gunni sack and struggled out. Maybe due to the impact, I forgot about that incident. And it was the night when he slapped my face that the forgotten memory had come back to me.

At last, confusion turned into rage,  I always argued with him. Sometimes, I even hit him. Everyone in the neighbourhood said I was an ungrateful child. But did they know what I had been facing? He had always started it. And I had always been trying to stop him from inflicting pain on me.

As if in retaliation, I had time and again been leaving home and staying at inns. And I remained sleepless throughout every night at hotels. I hadn't realised I had slowly developed bipolar disorder.

So many years had passed. Papa was diagnosed with Parkinson's and one time, he almost died of heart complications. I told myself to forget everything, and after a few years of struggle, I finally forgave him. And now, he is no longer the same as before. In fact, he is rather senile.

Despite what he did to me, I still love him. Yes, I am still smarting from the hurt, but he is my father, the one and only.