Dear Eva,

thank you for sharing about your relationship with your parents… it certainly wasn’t easy, and I think you’re right that your current relationship problems (the inability to let go and the fear of abandonment) stem from your relationship with your father.

What he has been doing is emotional abuse: first, he is very strict and perfectionist, scolding you, hitting you and otherwise punishing you for any “imperfection” or mistake you may have made:

We always had to get good grades, there was scolding, yelling if they were weaker than a 4. With us, the maximum best grade is a 5. We were also punished very often, if we did something that was not a rule. He knew how to hit us, yell, and I was not allowed to bite, I had a curfew until 12 o’clock until I was 18. He was very strict with us

On top of that, if you did anything that he didn’t approve of, if you expressed criticism of him, or even gave him well-meaning advice, he would get angry and emotionally withdraw, giving you a silent treatment that lasted for days on end (in extreme cases even threatening to kill himself):

He is a man that wants everything under his control, if I do/act/say something opposite of his opinion, there was always that dissmisive, angry approach and being mad for days not talking to anyone at home.

He doesn’t accept criticism, he gets angry if he is criticized or given advice, he goes to work and sits there for days angry, he doesn’t talk to anyone.

We also had a moment 10 years ago, very dramatic, where they fought a lot with shouting, pushing, that he was going to leave, even that he was going to kill himself and I don’t know what.

Silent treatment is a way to punish you for daring to oppose him or even to disagree with him. You couldn’t have a relationship with him, because all you got was criticism, scolding, punishment, and then his shutting down if you dared to protest. Sometimes he resorted to threats of abandonment and even suicide, which is a very cruel way of manipulation and forcing a child into submission.

Unfortunately, he had no compassion or empathy for you, no understanding of your needs. It was all about him, his needs, his moods, his getting what he wants. Indeed, very childish (and selfish). And manipulative.

I’m afraid he too has narcissistic features, like your boyfriend. It’s all about him, nothing about you.

And of course, growing up with such a father left a deep scar on you. You definitely didn’t get any validation, and so even if you did well at school and in your studies (I’m not spoiled and I’m not a lazy person. I always tried hard, I studied, I got a lot of awards and successes.), you feel like you haven’t achieved anything (I feel like I haven’t achieved anything and like I’m nowhere right now.)

That can all be contributed to having a demanding, criticizing father, who could never be pleased. Whatever you did, he was never happy. You were never good enough.

So the message you got from him (and are still getting from him) is “you’re not good enough”. But you have to understand that that’s his false opinion of you, not the truth.

You would need to heal all that false conditioning from your childhood. Have you been talking about your childhood in therapy?

I would love to help you more, and would love to continue our conversation here…

Dear Eva:

Thank you for sharing so openly. Your words carry so much clarity, even in the pain.

When someone grows up in an environment where love is conditional, control is constant, and anger is unpredictable, the nervous system learns to stay on high alert. So when your father tries to hug you now, and your body wants to pull away, that’s your body saying: “I remember what this meant before. I don’t feel safe.”

Physical reactions like disgust, tension, or the urge to flee are often signs of stored trauma. Especially when the person who caused harm also claims closeness. It creates a split—your mind might say “he’s trying to be kind”, but your body says “this feels wrong.”

I remember my mother holding my hand affectionately during a taxi ride to the airport. I was about to fly to the U.S., and she was staying behind. I felt too guilty to pull my hand away—how could I, when we were about to part for so long? But the entire ride, her hand in mine felt like quiet torture.

She held it gently, lovingly. But my body remembered more than that. That same hand had hit me many times. And even though her touch was soft in that moment, my body didn’t feel safe. It wanted to run. It remembered what my mind was trying to forget.

That was decades ago, and I still remember it clearly. Not because of the goodbye—but because of the conflict between what looked like love and what felt like fear.

Back to you, Eva- you also named something powerful: the perfectionism that helped you survive is now exhausting you. That’s common for people who grew up needing to perform for safety. You were praised for achievements, not for simply being. And now, at 27, your body is asking for something different—not more awards, but rest. Not more control, but freedom.

Living with your parents while trying to heal is incredibly hard—you’re in a space that keeps triggering old wounds. That’s why everything feels gray and stuck.

You don’t have to fix everything at once. You can start by honoring your reactions, trusting your body, and giving yourself permission to feel what you feel—even if it’s anger, disgust, or grief.

You’re not alone in this. And you’re not wrong for needing space.

With care, Anita