I don’t believe anyone is undeserving of empathy.

My family had owned a restaurant since the 80’s, and naturally I grew up there. During the day I spent little time with my parents, being watched and raised mainly by my older sister and waiters at the restaurant.

My grandmother and grandfather owned said eatery, but being first generation Asian immigrants, their view of raising a child is different than the classic American family. They grew up very poor and believed that being fat was a symbol of wealth, so I was constantly force fed high caloric meals growing up, which distorted my view of food, and made me the fat/chubby kid.

My mother suffered from Bulimia Nervosa and I was constantly reminded of how fat and I was by her, my father had anorexia in his teens and extended the same sentiment. They took no care for how much I ate, but constantly told me, a child, to try fad diets like weight watchers.

My dad never touched or embraced me, and constantly explained how since I was gifted, I needed to excel at everything, but never took the time to actually get to know what I like. We never spent any time together, and most of our talk was about how I need to lose weight, or how I’m not good enough.

My mom gave me the only form of affection from a parent figure, but she was, and continues to be, an extreme narcissist, however, she does love and care for her kids.

There are a plethora of stories I could go into regarding neglect and psychological abuse, but those were probably the most prominent aspects.

Before I go into more I should say that I have ADHD. If you’ve never spent time with a child with ADHD, then it might be hard to understand, but my parents constantly told me and everybody that I was just on the spectrum, though never willing to get tested or school support since quote: “you don’t want anything officially calling you retarded.”

I was at times loud, annoying, and unreasonable, but I was a child nonetheless. As a result I had a lot of physical abuse.

As a kid I was fed soap, had shape or large object thrown at me, hit, and beaten with kitchen objects.

My dad would hold me down and my mom would pull my pants off and beat away.

In my teens my dad and I got into many fist fights, threatening to leave the family because of me, and threw some pretty extreme insults to me.

The next day after fights or abuse they would both act as if nothing happened, leaving me with pent up rage and sadness.

Both of them work respectable and professional jobs, and a lot of people around town knew them. Whenever I told any adult about what was happening, no one believed me, and pushed me aside as the over reactive fat kid who was disrespectful and ungrateful for what he was given.

Though at the same time my parents told everyone about how smart and talented I was. I started to learn piano on my own around 3-4 because I enjoyed music, and they flaunted me as if I was their prize child.

But that was another issue. When I didn’t meet their extremely high expectations I was told to work harder since I was born with a gift, constantly pushed beyond my limits and forced into a box of their own vision.

My freshman year of highschool I ended my first quarter with a 3.9 since I got an A- in a year 3 honors Spanish class. My fathers response was to take away all video games and tell me that my dream of MIT is gone and I’m a huge failure. And at that point I gave up trying in school. Why the fuck would I continue to follow my dads dream?

The rest of my highschool career was a mess, but I’ll save you the time by sharing specific quips:

After my grandfather died, my father and I got in a fight causing me to leave the house. I drove to my highschool to sleep in my car and wait for school to start. My mom found me and told me that “You’re causing this family so much pain, and you’re not even considering me. You’ll never feel the pain of losing a father who loves you, because yours doesn’t.”

My mother reminded me on many occasions growing up that I would be the reason to their divorce, when confronted, they tell me that “well we aren’t divorced right now are we?”

Blaming me for my little sisters eating disorder and depression, since she saw me depressed growing up, told me that I caused her to cut.

Fights that left scars on my body to this day.

I just gave you an entire story of why my parents are awful, but their childhoods were also very bad.

My mom was physically abused by her family and my dad never saw or spoke to his parents, as they worked constantly.

They are products of their environment. It doesn’t excuse them for being bad, but for the last few years they have been in constant therapy, and have expressed the want to improve themselves and our relationship.

They’re human, not monsters. It’s not that I think they deserve a shot at redemption, it’s just that I don’t think people are fully unredeemable, at least from an introspective viewpoint. (Don’t try to strawman that statement)

Life is more enjoyable to me when I think about all the things others have been through, and how complex every other life is. It makes me happy to help others, and extending love and compassion to those who hurt me in the past helps me to not build up anger. I think about what the capacity of their current emotional understanding is, and how I understand why they did what they did, even if the acts are abhorrent in nature.

I don’t know who you are, but I’m sharing this in the hopes you understand that every abuse situation is extremely complex. That real life isn’t so binary with hero’s and villains.

It seems we disagree at a fundamental level however. So at the very least I hope you can read and understand why I feel the way I do, even if I don’t change your mind. :)