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When i was a kid, i always thought that the foundation of a house was just that four corner or the amount of cement mix with the steels, or at least thats what i thought; but when i started going to school at 3 years old it changed my knowledge. Not just in school but also in life, at such a young age I learned to see the difference between a stable home and unstable one.
I thought that wanting a stable house needs a lot of money to build a stable and comfortable home, where i can freely express myself, where there is food and lastly people living in that one roof love each other, but i was wrong. Growing up I wasn't able to see that I was confused by the fact that my own home is more stable than most of the people living in that same place but I never once felt the warmth and love in my own roof.
Until in 4th grade, a teacher told us that the basic foundation of a home was the parents — mother as ilaw ng tahanan and father as haligi ng tahanan ; i thought i finally saw the real reason why my house isn’t that stable, but i was wrong i just keep on noticing things a kid shoudn’t notice. How my parents argue to each other, how they blame us — their kids for the things we didn’t even knew exist, i never want to ruin their marriage so i stopped asking for something.
In 2021, the light of the house suddenly dissapeared. No warnings no heads up. Every one was crying even my younger sibling who knew nothing—i kept my self composed and neutral, i never once show myself grieving in front of them. They thought i was happy and assumed i was finally happy, living without that light felt like living in a house where no light was allowed to exist, the responsibilities of a light became mine, the role of that light to fill that dark place became mine.
I became my siblings light for the following years, the light that they thought would light the whole house dimmed a little by little, each year i would blame myself for everything, i never once told anyone about me blaming myself, because for myself it was my fault, and i should pay the consequences ; every year grieving is always winning, self blame would eat my guilt alive, and There where times i thought that if I disappeared, the pain would finally stop. But the thought of my siblings carrying that same weight pulled me back.
I realized that I was far from kids around my age, they played outside, nothing to worry about while i need to do things inside the house, i never got the change to enjoy that amount of time for my age because i have a duty, clean the house, cook for my siblings, watch them, and wash the laundry ; i never have a time for myself anymore, i was tired from everything. But I can't do anything, I don't want them to carry what I've carried for years.
Maturing is realizing that it wasn’t my age that grew—it was my mindset, forced to carry responsibilities I was never meant to bear. You start to believe you’re never enough; no matter how hard you scream, no one listens, and no one comes when you need them. Maturing also means learning to keep your pain to yourself—so no one judges you, no one blames you for things you didn’t do, and no one reminds you that you’re enough except yourself.
“How can a child be happy in a home that doesn’t feel like one? A home without love and care becomes nothing more than a house filled with strangers—people who share a roof but not a bond. It is a place where silence replaces laughter, where warmth is missing, and where a child is forced to grow up too soon, learning to survive instead of being allowed to live.”