Hi Nea:

I read your message slowly, one part at a time, because I wanted to stay close to what you were actually saying.

When people focus on what your husband “should have done differently,” it often comes from a place of trying to manage the aggressor instead of looking at the disproportionate reaction itself. You’re right — the escalation wasn’t about the small thing it started with, and reducing everything to your husband’s behavior doesn’t capture the full picture.

About asking him to say hi “to keep the peace”: I understand why you hoped that might help, but I also understand why you changed your mind. When someone is still angry, self‑righteous, and showing hostility — like the faces you noticed — asking your husband to extend himself again puts the weight on him, not on your dad. You saw that clearly, and your question — “what exactly am I asking my husband to do?” — shows a lot of insight.

If your husband is choosing not to engage because he wants peace, and your dad is continuing the hostility, then you’re right: it isn’t fair or sustainable for your husband to be the only one trying. You’re thinking about the future realistically — gatherings, holidays, the baby — and you’re already recognizing that you can’t build a life where your husband is excluded or expected to absorb disrespect.

About my mother — I mentioned earlier that she repeatedly reached out to hit me. One incident stays with me (and I told you about it): I was in my early or mid‑20s, and even though we were only a few feet apart, she ran toward me to strike me. Before that moment, for years, my reaction had always been the same: silence, looking down, staying small. She even said once, while hitting me, “The only thing I like about you is that you say nothing back and look at the floor.” That pattern went on for a long time.

And then, there was that one time when I finally blocked her from moving toward me. It didn’t feel like a victory — it felt strange and disappointing, because I suddenly realized how easily I could have stopped her all along. That moment changed how I understood fear, compliance, and the way some people maintain control. Some people do become physically dangerous in rage — we see that in the news — but far more often, people rely on the threat of violence, the atmosphere of intimidation, to keep others small.

I’m sharing this only because you said you’re trying to understand the “why and how” behind your father’s behavior. Your situation is your own, and your father is his own person — but sometimes seeing another example helps clarify the structure of a pattern.

I’m here, and I’ll share more if and when it feels useful to you.

🌿 Anita

Hi Nea:

It makes me happy (I’m smiling now) to read that what I shared helped you think through, and truly, I have no problem at all with revisiting my past and sharing more. I will do so tomorrow morning (it’s getting close to midnight here).

“I don’t think it’s fair for me to keep asking my husband to be the one extending himself.”- I fully agree.

I’ll write more tomorrow.

🌿 Anita

Hey Dear Confused:

I’m trying to make Confused less confused 🙂

You mentioned many times how you didn’t lose feelings only in the context of her in your life, but in the context of everyone and everything in your life. What I’m pointing to is that if she was life itself for you, if she- or what she represented to you- meant everything, no wonder you lost feeling for everything else.

Or.. am I confused?

🤔 Anita

Hey Dear Confused:

“If it (the depression/ annhedonia) was related only to her, I would be fine”-

But if she meant EVERYTHING to you, if you were so very invested in her (or in the idea of her) so intensely, so overwhelmingly, is it a wonder that the depression/ annhedonia spread to EVERY part of your life?

🤔 Anita

Hi Nea:

I just want to say how much I appreciate the empathy, grace, and emotional maturity in your message. You’re holding such a complicated truth with so much clarity — seeing your father’s harmful patterns while still acknowledging the love you feel. That takes strength.

When you wrote, “I find myself wondering how someone can love their family and yet behave in ways that hurt them,” it struck me deeply. I asked myself that same question for years.

For a long time, I held onto a loving image of my mother because the real version of her was too frightening to face. Over time, my understanding shifted. I realized she had moments of affection, but they were tied to my compliance — not to seeing me as a separate person with my own worth. When she sensed even small signs of independence, she became aggressive and hurtful again.

It took me a long time to understand that love mixed with harm is not the kind of love that nurtures a child. And it took even longer to let myself see that clearly.

I’ll write more soon, but I wanted to share this part with you now.

Anita

Good morning, Girija 🙂

The coworker we’ve been talking about- with his “powerful words and actions” (your words about him earlier)- was your hope for a savior?

I’m reminded of the 1981 book “The Cinderalla Complex”, it’s about the hope and fantasy of many, many women to be rescued by a man, to be like Cinderalla who was rescued from her hopeless life with her evil stepmother by a prince.

Although many more women work and earn a good income since 1981, the fantasy is alive and well, particularly when it comes to more traditional societies and anxious women who grew up without emotional safety.

There are approaches in different therapies that target this very fantasy, teaching women to develop a “secure base” within, or develop a secure adult self/ a capable “inner parent” to take care of the anxious “inner child”.

But none of it is easy, of course, for a girl who grew up without a secure base, or a capable parent 😔.

I didn’t even know Medium exists, or if I came across the word before, I forgot. I may look into it. Thank you for mentioning it.

How are you feeling today/ this evening?

🌿 Anita

Hi again, Girija:

“Last night I had an incredible realisation that I really got to live… It was a life in and of itself… It was amazing too.”- I wish you could tell me more about that Life‑In‑And‑Of‑Itself. How did it feel all that time?

“I don’t know if needing that sense of belonging all the time is good for me… I honestly think I don’t know how to live life… it’s a dull contrast to what I had with him and the previous team.”-

Losing two places where you felt connected would make anyone question belonging, direction, and how life is supposed to feel. Wanting belonging is human. And the contrast you’re describing… I can imagine how sharp it must feel.

… I just saw your most recent message. I’ll reply more fully in the morning (it’s Sunday, after 10 pm here), but for now, this part stayed with me:

“My pretenses – pretending I don’t want a saviour to swoop in, make my life feel good and make me less aware.”-

Girija… that’s such honest writing. Naming that wish takes courage. Wanting someone who brings ease, comfort, and a break from emotional intensity is such a human thing. You put it into words beautifully.

I spent so many, many hours (as a teenager and older) daydreaming about a saviour man. Those imaginings felt euphoric.

I’ll be back to you in the morning.

🌿 Anita