Hi Anita,

Yes, I think you’re right about the “peace restorer” role. I’m realizing that for years, when there was tension or conflict, I would eventually be the one who softened, apologized, approached, or just said “let’s move on,” even if there had never really been any resolution. It gave me temporary relief because at least the atmosphere felt normal again.

So now that I’m not doing that — and I also can’t control whether other people repair things — I think my nervous system almost doesn’t know what to do with the unresolved tension. My mind keeps jumping ahead and trying to figure out how to restore everything, even though another part of me knows that repeating the same pattern would just bring temporary peace and leave the underlying issues untouched.

There’s also been another layer added that has made me really angry. I recently learned that when some family members tried to meet and “clear the air,” the conversation apparently turned into a list of criticisms about my husband — things about what he supposedly does or doesn’t do around the house, finances, and other petty or inaccurate things that really have nothing to do with the original incident. Then those comments were relayed to someone in his family, who confronted him about them.

I’m honestly furious about that. I live with my husband. I know our marriage, our finances, what he contributes, and the person he is. I have never claimed he is perfect — I have openly said that I think he should have disengaged sooner during the original argument, and I have absolutely called him out on things over the years. But that is completely different from sitting there while people paint an inaccurate picture of his character and then asking me, “Why are you defending him?” Of course I’m going to defend him when something being said about him is simply not true.

What makes me even angrier is the contrast. I grew up around genuinely serious behaviour — verbal abuse, physical aggression, domestic violence, intimidation — and so much of that eventually became normalized or excused, sometimes with the financial provision and generosity being held up as evidence of everything that had been done for us. Yet now relatively minor complaints about my husband are being collected and treated as evidence against his character. It feels incredibly backwards to me.

And your point about the financial generosity really resonates for that reason. I am grateful for the financial help we have received. I don’t want to rewrite that or be ungrateful. But I’m also increasingly able to see that generosity in a much bigger context. Money and generosity cannot erase the way someone treats people, and they also shouldn’t create an expectation that the recipient owes emotional submission, loyalty, or tolerance of behaviour they otherwise wouldn’t accept.

I think this new information has made me even angrier because I’m realizing that I don’t want to keep participating in a system where one person’s anger becomes everyone else’s responsibility to manage, while everyone else’s mistakes or imperfections get magnified. And I just had a baby, so I’m also frustrated that all of this family conflict is continuing to take up emotional space during a time when I want my energy to be with my husband and daughter.

So yes — I think the anxiety really may be partly the absence of that old “restore the peace and get relief” mechanism. The hard part now is learning to tolerate the tension without automatically fixing it, especially when I’m so angry about what is being said and how unfair it feels.

Nea

Good morning, Anita ❤️

Thank you. And I’m sorry — her name is actually Maya. Autocorrect put the other name in my previous message. But yes, I’m very happy to share her name with you.

I think what you said about my father makes a lot of sense. His pride in having a granddaughter may be very real, but I’m struggling with the fact that it hasn’t translated into the kind of emotional closeness or softness I hoped Maya would receive from him.

Even right now, in the trenches of having a newborn, I hate that this is taking up space in my mind. It makes me so emotional, and I’m sure some of that is heightened by being postpartum too. I just wanted that warmth and emotional closeness from my family — not only for myself, but now for my daughter — and I don’t feel like I’m getting it in the way I imagined.

Maybe it will simply take me time to fully understand and adjust to what is, rather than what I hoped it would be. My heart hurts sometimes, especially now that I’m a mother myself. I find myself feeling so deeply for children whose parents make their lives harder, and for single parents or parents who are raising children without much support. Becoming a mom has made me look at all of these things through such a different lens.

And what you said about no longer wishing for the mother you wished you had really stood out to me. There’s something significant about reaching the point where you aren’t waiting for someone to become different anymore. I imagine that acceptance can carry grief with it, but also a kind of freedom.

Thank you, too, for what you said about strength — in me and in my husband. I’m trying to remember that strength doesn’t always mean not being affected by something. Sometimes I think it’s feeling all of it and still choosing what kind of family and emotional environment you want to create going forward. ❤️

Nea

Good evening Anita!

That honestly sounds like such a peaceful afternoon — sitting on the lounge with the two beagles happily chewing their bones nearby 🙂 I’m glad you’re having one of those simple, good days.

And thank you. What you said about dignity and self-respect really stayed with me. Especially because through all of this, my husband has been nothing but supportive of me and completely devoted to taking care of me and our baby. I don’t want him to feel like he has to go toward someone who has made it very clear he isn’t willing to meet him halfway.

The funny thing is, my dad is apparently spreading the news about Soraya to all of his people 😅 So yes, I’m sure on some level he is happy and proud to have a granddaughter. But that almost makes the whole thing stranger to me. Instead of focusing on the most important part — actually bonding with her, being present with us, and trying to make some kind of peace with us as a family — he has barely held her. I know he is very busy with work, which is the usual explanation, and then of course there is everything with my husband.

I think that contradiction is part of what keeps my mind going back to it. It’s like the pride of becoming a grandfather is there, but the emotional work of actually being one — and of showing up for his daughter, granddaughter, and our little family — is much harder for him.

And Anita, I’m really sorry for the absence of the mother you deserved. ❤️ I think no matter how much we learn to understand people and eventually accept what they are capable of giving us, there can still be a void where that safe person was supposed to be. I wish acceptance made that disappear completely, but I don’t think it always does. And I think there is something incredibly strong about you still creating the life you wanted and choosing to live differently, even while carrying that grief.

Nea

Thanks so much Roberta, means a lot!! 😊❤️

Nea

Good morning, Anita!

It has actually been a bit of a whirlwind over here. I ended up going into labor the night of the 20th, and after a long labor, my beautiful baby girl arrived Friday night. She is just perfect. 💛 So the last few days have been a mixture of recovery, bonding, healing, very little sleep, and just taking in everything that has happened. We are home from the hospital now and slowly adjusting to what this completely new life looks like, which is why I wasn’t able to reply sooner, although I was still thinking about our conversations.

My family did come to the hospital to meet the baby, which was nice, but there was definitely some awkwardness. My dad came, but he and my husband didn’t speak to each other. We were all in the same room, and nothing happened, but I could sense that distance and tension underneath it. I noticed it, of course, but at the same time I’ve been in such a warm little bubble with my baby that I honestly don’t have much capacity to carry that situation right now.

And maybe that is okay. I have more than enough on my plate at the moment—recovering physically, getting to know my daughter, figuring out feeding and sleep and all of these completely new things, and just taking in how beautiful it is to finally have her here.

I did really appreciate both of your replies, though, and I absolutely still want to continue the conversation, because I learn a lot from the way you frame things.

What you wrote about my dad almost viewing family as the place where he is allowed to release whatever he wants actually does resonate. It is strange because his statement has always been presented almost as though closeness gives someone more permission to behave badly, whereas I have always felt that the people closest to you should probably be the people you make the greatest effort not to hurt.

And your image of the plant in dry ground really stayed with me too—the roots growing longer and longer trying to reach water. I can see something of myself in that: repeatedly extending understanding, empathy, explanations, and second chances, perhaps hoping that eventually I would reach something in him that would respond in the same way.

I think becoming a mother myself is probably going to make me look at some of this differently too. Even in these first few days, there is something very powerful about looking at this tiny person who depends on me and thinking about what I want “family” to mean for her.

For now, though, I’m just learning and navigating this very new, very beautiful chapter one day at a time. 💛

How have you been?!

Nea

Hello Anita,

Thank you 🙂 I really appreciate how you framed this, especially the distinction between integrity and trying to keep the peace at any cost.

I do think one of the hardest things for me has been accepting that I can’t pressure my husband into tolerating behaviour that I know has hurt me for many years simply because the person involved is my father. I also agree that having everything happen in my father’s home, where he very much has that “my house, my rules” mentality, creates an added power dynamic.

I think part of why I keep questioning my husband’s role is cultural too. I’m South Asian, and there is definitely this strong expectation that if an older person, especially a father or father-in-law, says “enough” or “stop talking,” the younger person should simply stop. So I keep hearing versions of, “He’s older, your husband should have known when to stop.” And I do genuinely wonder whether my husband should have disengaged sooner once he could see how angry my father was becoming. From a de-escalation standpoint, perhaps that would have been wiser.

But at the same time, I struggle with the idea that because someone is older, another adult is expected to simply submit when they’re being told to shut up over what was initially such a small topic. I think that is where it became much bigger for my husband. He felt that he was being told, essentially, “I said enough, so you stop talking,” and that if he didn’t comply, anger and intimidation would be used to force him to.

There’s also a financial/cultural layer that makes me feel guilty. My parents have let us stay in their very nice home without paying rent, and we are genuinely grateful for that and have thanked them. We had actually wanted to contribute rent. But when we first moved in, my husband’s work situation was tied up with my father’s business and he was receiving very limited income, which my parents knew. We were also still paying a significant portion of our own mortgage and other expenses. My parents knew the whole situation and had asked us to stay with them.

So I struggle when the housing or financial support becomes part of the argument — almost like, “You’re living under my roof, therefore you should know your place.” I absolutely believe gratitude and respect are appropriate. But I don’t think receiving financial help means someone should have to tolerate being sworn at, called names, humiliated, or physically intimidated.

That’s why I’m trying to hold both things at once: perhaps my husband could have disengaged earlier for the sake of de-escalation, while also recognizing that continuing to speak does not justify what happened afterward.

Do you think that distinction is fair? I really want to look at everyone’s behaviour honestly rather than automatically defending either side, but I also don’t want cultural expectations around age, hierarchy, or financial support to make me minimize behaviour that I know I would consider unacceptable in any other context.

Nea

Hi Lu,

I completely agree. I think that’s exactly what I’m trying to unlearn now — that respecting someone older means I have to bend, stay quiet, or be the one to repair things no matter what happened. It really does feel uncomfortable at first because it goes against what I grew up with, but I’m realizing having boundaries isn’t disrespectful. Especially now that I’m building my own family, I want respect to go both ways.

Did you ever worry that changing those patterns would create a bigger family rift? I think that’s the part I’m struggling with most — knowing I need boundaries but being scared of what they might change long-term.

Nea

Hi Anita, good to hear from you! 🙂

Yes, you’re right. I think that cultural and generational cycle of expecting younger people to tolerate abusive or intimidating behaviour simply because someone is older really does need to stop. Respect should go both ways. And now that I’m about to have my own little girl, I genuinely cannot imagine ever swearing at her, charging at her, threatening her, or making her afraid of me and then saying she caused my reaction.

I think where my mind still struggles is jumping ahead and wondering what this means if my husband and dad never really repair things — holidays, special occasions, the baby, and whether other family members will think my husband should have just backed down because he’s younger.

But I keep reminding myself that while my husband could have disengaged earlier, that still doesn’t make the verbal abuse and physical intimidation okay. And I can’t ask him to apologize or initiate friendliness just because my dad is older, especially when my dad hasn’t made any effort toward accountability.

At the same time, my husband hasn’t asked me to cut my family off or said he’ll never attend anything. His boundary is more that he’ll be civil and present, but he doesn’t want a relationship with my dad unless there is some acknowledgment that what happened crossed a line.

So I’m trying to accept that this may simply be where things are for now and focus my energy on the baby instead of forcing a resolution. I think it will always be painful because he is still my dad, but I also know I don’t want to keep repeating the same cycle anymore.

Nea