Why Respect Matters More Than Rules at Home

The photo slipped from my trembling fingers. ALL THOSE YEARS. All those years I believed I was disrespected. That my freedom was denied out of spite. That I wasn’t trusted. But they weren’t disrespecting me. They were protecting me, from a horror I couldn’t comprehend, a tragedy that had already shattered their world once. They loved me so much, they were willing to be hated, just to keep me safe. I had demanded respect, but I had never given it – never respected their rules enough to ask why, never respected their experience enough to believe their fear was real. I had chosen my pride over their silent plea. I had chosen anger over understanding.

And now, they were gone. And I was left with the crushing weight of a truth too terrible, too heartbreaking, to bear. My parent hadn’t valued rules more than me; they had valued my life more than their own happiness, more than our relationship, more than anything. And I had never known.