Honor your mother and father. One of the 10 commandments. Growing up hearing this over and over again, against the backdrop of a father who tried to kill me with a chair and a mother who shamed me for how dark my skin is, was difficult. Honor your mother and father. I would look up passages and search and ask to see if there was any way around this commandment. How could I honor people who harmed me? How could I continue to honor those that made me feel invisible and small?

When I tell people I’m not close to my family, people say I get that, me too. Then those same people proceed to share how they’re going on vacay with their family or how their dad sent them an article to read. I am not close to my family. They don’t ask me questions. They don’t know when I’m sad. We sit quietly at home, like true strangers in the facade of relatedness.

When I tell people, I don’t like my family. I often get, they’re doing the best they can. If you want to, you can. They’re parents etc. I’m a grown woman and my drunk dad told me I’m a disappointment and he’s been tolerating me. I’m a grown woman and as I leave to go back to LA, my dad doesn’t make eye contact with me, but instead as I’m leaving, says I’m a liar. I have no integrity. Yeah. I had written him a card saying when I was in New York I would take him out to eat. I forgot and I didn’t follow through. That’s my fault. But instead of bringing it up, he aggressively calls me a liar and shamed me as I leave. And the only reason why I know it has something to do with this meal promise is because my mom later sends me 15 voice mails about how I failed there. Yes. I didn’t follow through and fine, I lied. I made a promise and I failed. But is the way to deal with me to shame me, yell at me and make me truly never want to take him out for a meal? Also why does he want that when he doesn’t even talk to me when I’m home? He does nothing but mutter under his breath how I suck and then drink. It’s not even 9am.

When I tell people, I hate my family, I feel judged. I believe people think I’m being dramatic and callous. My parents are immigrants who sacrificed so much for me. And now there is never room for me to hate them. At what point am I no longer held to this filial obligation for something I had no control over? How much shame, fear and anger must I endure for me to have enough reason to draw my boundaries.

Honor your mother and father. I feel shame around that commandment. I feel that I will never do that enough. Is me coming home every time even after such horrific times, good enough? That’s my version of forgiveness but I can’t forget. It’s in my body. I’m miserable when I’m home. I want to cry but there’s no where to cry and as I’m writing this on the subway, I have to be careful that the floodgates don’t suddenly open.

How do I DIStance myself and not DisHonor? Does that make you more comfortable? If I never see my parents again, I really would not be sad. They haven’t been part of my life. When I think of my blood family, I am filled with grief, hurt, sadness and fear. I don’t like who I become. I don’t like how trapped I feel. Am I allowed to DISHonor my parents? Truth is, they probably already see me as a dishonorable dishonest daughter.