There are certain dates I don’t even need a calendar to remember — not because they were mine, but because they came with warning signs.
The last two weeks brought it all flooding back. The tension. The dread. The quiet anticipation of another emotional storm. It always came around this time of year, like clockwork — the anniversary of his mother’s death.
His daughter once warned me: “He’ll be angry. Unapproachable. It happens every year. We’re used to it.”
They had learnt to brace themselves in advance. To walk on eggshells. To not trigger anything that might make it worse.
And so did I.
For years, I internalised this rhythm — adjusting my behavior, softening my tone, choosing silence over truth. I learned how to keep the peace by shrinking myself. I tiptoed around conversations. I planned around moods. I braced myself too.
But the truth is, it wasn’t just once a year. It wasn’t just her death.
It was every significant date — birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, even celebrations that should’ve been joyful. They were all marked like landmines in his diary months ahead. Scribbled symbols, question marks, codes. Warnings disguised as reminders.
And recently, while clearing things out, I found those old diaries again. The same patterns. Pages where joy should’ve lived, marked instead with tension and control.
It was never just about grief. It was about unprocessed pain, turned outward into aggression, manipulation, and punishment of the people closest to him.
What strikes me now is how much of my life I spent trying to manage someone else’s emotional volatility. How I took on responsibility for their storms. How I confused endurance with love, and self-abandonment with loyalty.
Grief doesn’t justify cruelty.
Loss doesn’t excuse control.
Anger that’s never owned becomes a weapon — not just against the self, but against anyone who dares to get close.
So if you’re in something similar — if you’re bracing yourself for moods that aren’t yours, silencing your joy to avoid conflict, or shrinking yourself to keep the peace — know this: that is not love. That is not partnership. That is survival.
And you deserve more than just surviving.
