Dear family,

“Family,” sadly, is the hardest thing I have ever dealt with in my life.

They are the people I bond with from birth, no exception, no choice, no complete way out.

The word family itself feels like both a blessing and a burden. I know I cannot survive without them, but I also know they will not be happy if they really know who I am.

Because they chose to bring me into this world, and because they love me unconditionally, I am expected to be good, to be nice, to be grateful, and to be successful, to pay them back.

Very unconditional.

At least, that’s what they say.

If I don’t live up to their standards, that love might quietly vanish into the air.

Still unconditional, right?

I don’t know why I feel the urge to write these conflicting thoughts. Maybe because I’ve always held a dual attitude toward family.

In social psychology, attitude refers to how we evaluate people or things. It shapes our emotions, behaviors, and beliefs. It’s a silent but powerful wheel behind how we show up in the world.

A dual attitude means holding two conflicting evaluations at the same time—one explicit, one implicit.

Explicitly, I am learning to let go. To forgive. To build inner strength so I can become a source of peace for my family. I feel that I owe them a great deal. I am grateful for what they have done for me. I can repeatedly tell people that I have to love and respect my parents.

Implicitly, I don’t want to be with them that much.

And I have always felt guilty for feeling this way.

I was angry. I didn’t ask to be born. Yet here I am—born, expected to suffer, expected to find a way out on my own.

Sometimes they hurt me verbally, physically, and emotionally, because they believe that family gives them a free pass to say whatever they want.

They believe I will always be there.

Because we are family.

I grew up in a big family, with four older siblings. As the youngest, I had more opportunities to study and more financial free. They often tell me I am the “golden egg” of the family, that I’ve had everything since birth, that I didn’t suffer like they did.

Is that true?

I still wonder.

They teach me that we must sacrifice ourselves to maintain family peace.

That means:

If we are unhappy because our partners are unappreciative or emotionally unavailable, it is our job to endure, to sacrifice a little, to maintain love.

If we are exhausted from taking care of children while our partners play games, scroll their phones, or sleep in, it is our job to be more overbearing. Love means sacrifice.

If we feel trapped and deeply unhappy in our relationships, personal happiness is considered selfish. We must always be available. Always sacrificing.

Again and again.

That is what they teach me.

And I hate it.

I have witnessed my parents’ broken relationship my entire life. Now I see the same patterns in my sister’s family. Sometimes, I feel sad for her.

And I know one thing clearly:

I cannot become that version.

I hate the word sacrifice.

To be sacrificed for often means creating a debt, one that may never be fully repaid. In many ways, I believe this kind of sacrifice is a form of egoistic love. Over time, I’ve started to realize that some sacrifices are not unconditional at all. They are investments in disguise.

An investment expects returns. Maybe not immediately, maybe not explicitly, but someday, in some form. Obedience. Gratitude. Availability. A lifetime of “yes.”

When I sacrifice, I may secretly want to feel like a good person. I don’t always ask if the other person needs it. I don’t always check whether it actually helps them. I just want to feel good about myself. Or at times, I want to turn them into my life values. My self-worth is them. My peace relies on them.

And no, I’m not talking about extreme situations, like jumping in front of a train to save a life. That’s different.

What this belief system teaches me is that putting myself first is wrong. Loving myself more is selfish. I’ve been told that many times in my life.

But why is it wrong to put myself first, if it isn’t narcissism?

Of course, I understand the value of sacrifice. If everyone only lived for themselves, the world would be chaos. We all need to people-please from time to time.

But I don’t believe sacrifice should be the foundation of a true family.

Because when it is, we slowly lower our self-worth. We tolerate being drained. We allow people to treat us as less than what we deserve. Eventually, we may become depressed or struggle with other mental health issues.

And clearly—

we cannot be happy that way.

Ideally, if each family member knew how to love themselves, they could still care for one another, fulfill responsibilities, and respect differences, without forcing anyone to live up to someone else’s standards.

We could still be connected.

And we could be free.

As the cliché says: we cannot give what we don’t have.

We cannot love one another

if we do not first have love.