I Still Crave Softness From the People Who Taught Me to Brace

Dear Delyara, My parents are not monsters. That would be simpler. They are just people who gave me love mixed with criticism, care mixed with control, approval mixed with conditions subtle enough to become the weather in my body before I knew I was allowed to question them. And still, even now, some animal part of me wants their softness more than almost anyone else’s. One kind sentence from either of them can undo me in the best way. One dismissive one can flatten me for a day. I know the pattern. I still live inside it. That’s what makes old family wounds so exhausting. They don’t have to be dramatic to remain powerful.