I grew up in a world filled with anger. The atmosphere at home was always tense, with invisible triggers that could set off explosions of rage. My mother was often angry at my father, my brother was upset about our parents’ separation, and my father, a Vietnam veteran, was prone to outbursts of anger directed at any of us.
His anger was like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any moment. It could be triggered by something as simple as my brother refusing to drink milk at dinner or me not being ready to be picked up from my mother’s apartment. Even harmless things like us giggling at the way he pronounced “subwoofer” could set him off.
But driving was where his anger was most volatile. A minor incident on the road, like someone cutting us off, would unleash a torrent of rage and curses that I was too young to understand. I never associated my father’s behavior with post-traumatic stress disorder from his time in Vietnam. In my mind, Vietnam was just a faraway place where he had some interesting experiences and learned new things.
It wasn’t until years later that I learned about the true extent of his trauma from the war. He had witnessed and experienced things that haunted him, things he couldn’t bring himself to talk about. It took time for both of us to come to terms with the root of his anger and find a way to heal.
Growing up with a father who struggled to admit his emotional pain was challenging. It taught me the importance of acknowledging and addressing our inner struggles, no matter how difficult it may be. It also showed me the power of compassion and understanding in helping others heal from past traumas. Through open communication and support, we can overcome the struggles of admitting emotional pain and work towards healing and recovery.