They Raised You to Obey, Not to Thrive
You're not a repayment plan. You're a human being.
They swear they want your happiness until it blooms in colors they don’t recognize.
Then, you’re the villain, the ungrateful one, the selfish heart who dared to breathe your own truth.
But choosing yourself isn’t betrayal.
It’s resurrection.
The real betrayal is letting your soul flicker out to keep their world unshaken.
My Heart bleeds
Yesterday, I sat with someone I love deeply, his voice heavy with unsaid dreams.
He’s not chasing the job that sets his soul ablaze.
He’s not reaching for the girl who makes his heart sing.
Why? Because his mother wouldn’t approve.
Her sacrifices—her love, her labor, her tears—loom like a shadow he’s too loyal to escape.
Watching him erase himself, day by day, decision by decision, is like watching a candle melt into nothing.
It’s breaking something in me.
My chest tightens, my thoughts burn, and I want to scream, Please don’t disappear.
But I can’t.
I’m helpless, furious, splitting open with frustration—praying one day he’ll see he’s worth saving.
I’ve been there.
I know the slow death of killing your desires to avoid disappointing someone else.
And I can’t stand watching another soul I love light themselves on fire just to keep everyone else warm.
The Lie
We’ve been taught that self-love is a crime.
That a “good” daughter, a “loyal” son, buries their dreams to keep the family’s heart beating.
That if your parents are unhappy, it’s your fault.
So we cradle questions like fragile relics:
What if my choices wound them?
They’ve lived longer don’t I owe them my trust?
They gave me everything don’t I owe them my life?
What if I endure just a little so they don’t have to?
But what about your life?
Your one, tender, unrepeatable life, slipping through your hands like water you’ll never hold again.
📊 A 2023 OECD study lays bare the cost: 67% of young adults in collectivist cultures drown under family expectations. In East and Southeast Asia, it’s over 80%.
They’re trapped in unchosen careers, loveless marriages, their hearts bruised for someone else’s “honor.”
💬 Pew Research in 2022 cut deeper: Guilt is the thief of dreams.
It’s the heaviness that anchors us to lives we never wanted, crowding out the freedom we were born to claim.
Guilt doesn’t just weigh you down—it suffocates.
It steals the space where joy should live.
Love or Chains?
They whisper, “I did it all for you.”
“I only want your happiness.”
But when you say, “This is my heart’s truth,” their love turns sharp.
Selfish. Ungrateful. Disappointment.
The words carve wounds only you can feel.
Let’s speak the unspoken:
They chose to have you.
They raised you with their hands, their hopes, their version of right.
And yes, they loved you—but now they demand your silence as payment?
Your dreams as ransom?
That’s not love. It’s emotional bondage.
“If your love fades when I choose my path, it was never love—it was a contract.”
The Roots
This pain was born in childhood’s quiet corners.
Attachment theory whispers: when love was a reward for being “good,” “quiet,” or “obedient,”
we learned that stepping out of line meant losing the only warmth we knew.
Disobedience meant abandonment.
So we hid our truths under the floorboards of our hearts.
We buried our dreams to keep the love we craved.
We became what they needed, hoping it would keep us safe.
And in the process, we lost the sound of our own voice.
That’s why guilt clings like damp rot.
Why we freeze, terrified not just of disappointing them, but of being cast out from love itself.
The Truth, It was never love. It was control.
Love holds you close and says, “I don’t understand, but I’m here.”
Control clutches tight and warns, “Obey me, or you’re gone.”
If their love is only for the you who obeys, it was never love.
It was fear, dressed in sacrifice.
It was possession, cloaked in care.
Love whispers: I see you, whole and wild.
Control demands: I’ll love you when you shrink.
The Life You’re Meant to Live
Most people don’t live—they perform.
They don’t choose their paths, their loves, their truths.
They swallow their “no’s” and choke on their “yeses.”
Not because they’re weak, but because they love too fiercely to risk breaking someone else’s heart.
But pause, please, and imagine:
Will you find peace in a life built on someone else’s blueprint?
Will your heart sing in a museum of their expectations?
Will you, on your final breath, smile and think, “My life was a worthy sacrifice”?
My heart screams no.
I can’t. I won’t.
And I don’t want that for you.
The Myth
I’ve heard the gentle lies:
“True joy is living for others.”
But what if your soul is a smoldering ember?
What if your dreams are buried under someone else’s fears?
What if your heart weeps in the quiet of every night?
How is that joy?
Am I destined to be the candle that burns out to light their way, until I’m nothing but a puddle of wax?
No.
You are not their debt.
You are a living, yearning, radiant soul, meant to burn bright.
You are not responsible for their pain.
You can love them and still cradle your own heart.
You can disagree and still be their daughter, their son, their friend.
Their tears don’t make your truth wrong—they mean they must face their own shadows.
“If my truth unravels our bond, it was never a bond—it was a battlefield.” — Dr. Nicole LePera
You don’t have to dim your flame to keep their world steady.
You don’t have to drown in their story to prove your love.
Guilt isn’t love, it’s a thief.
Obedience isn’t loyalty, it’s surrender.
Self-abandonment isn’t respect, it’s erasure.
So sit with your heart, and listen:
Are you choosing love, or fear?
Are you weaving a life that feels like home, or surviving in someone else’s shadow?
Are you running toward a dream that sets your soul ablaze, or fleeing from their disapproval?
You’ll break someone’s heart either theirs, for a moment, or yours for a lifetime.
You’ll speak your truth, or you’ll bury it and live with the ache of what could’ve been.
Choose with love—for the child you were, who dreamed without fear.
For the future you who’ll thank you for daring to live.
The Freedom
If you’re only trying to live your truth—not to wound, but to bloom, why does guilt hold you?
This is your life, fragile and fierce, yours alone.
They may not see you today.
But one day, they might—when their hearts catch up to yours.
And if they never do, you’ll stand in your truth, knowing you chose the one person who’ll never leave you: you.
That’s not just freedom.
That’s resurrection.
That’s remembering who you were before the world taught you to please.
Have you ever ached to pull someone you love from their self-abandonment, or felt your own heart split between loving them and loving you?
What would choosing yourself look like today? Share your story—I’m here, holding space for your truth.
If this cracked something open in you—it was worth writing. If you want to give back, here’s how
This really touched me. It’s so hard when love feels conditional, and speaking your own truth is met with disappointment or silence. I’ve seen how painful it is when someone I love slowly gives up on themselves just to keep others comfortable. Thank you for shining a light on this it’s a struggle many of us carry quietly. Holding space for our own hearts, even when it feels impossible, is so important.