You are not the one in the know. I am.

You don't get to claim you know me until I claim that you do.

Yesterday I had a quick chat with my father while I was having my dinner. I haven't done this in a while, probably for almost a month or two. So we talked and somehow it carried on to a point where I discussed a possibility of me working part-time in an education institution. I teach English, at a local tutoring school, and I thought expanding my experience in Wall Street Institute might be a good idea. I like the excitement of trying something new and I want to know what I can get from Wall Street. I didn't really tell my dad about that. I only told him about the possibility of me getting a part-time job there since I've gotten to know the HR manager quite well and she apparently liked me enough to personally tell me to submit an application. How many times you get to have an HR manager telling you to submit your CV directly to her email? Not so often. 

So when I told my dad, his reaction was reasonable. It wasn't something unexpected. He spoke to me wisely and ever so gently, 'Teaching is a hobby. It's good, enjoy it while it lasts.'

Problem is: It's NOT only a hobby. I enjoy it. Let's just say, even though I know I still have a lot of things to improve, I enjoy teaching and I never treat it as a hobby only. In fact, I've been considering whether to pursue a career in teaching. Now, I told this to my dad. With less bluntness but firm determination, I told him that teaching was never only a hobby to me. He eyed me cautiously, almost furiously, and said, "I know who you are. You don't want to teach. You want to earn big money."

Strike one.

I then said, "No, I never want to earn big money. Money has never been my sole intention in life. It's too shallow for me." And he made a quick and triumphant reply, "Yes, you do! My advice is for you to work in a multinational company. I've arranged some access for you to get into some good companies. You're my daughter. I know you so well. Money is your thing."

Strike two.

Money is NOT my thing. People is my thing. I interact with people and I find bliss in doing so. I learn from people and I never go tired from doing so. I make friends with people and I never regret doing so. I dream of doing great things that involve people, not money. Never money. I told my dad quietly, "Money is not my thing. If you think it is, you don't know me. You don't know me at all. I don't want to work in a multinational company." I didn't mean to sound ungrateful because my dad didn't do anything wrong. He was being a very responsible father, setting up a nice and comforting future for his daughter. He didn't do anything wrong. He just didn't do the right thing. Of course I didn't tell him that. So he said, once again, "Teaching is not a future! I want you to settle nicely in the future, buy a house and live if not a rich life, a financially secured one. Don't tell me that I do not know you. Even though we don't talk much, I monitor you. I know you. You are ambitious and you like money."

Strike three. And that's all I need to silence myself.

It got into a point where it surpassed any angry phase and arrived at a helpless state. He was unbelievable. Three times he claimed he knew me but in fact, he didn't at all. It was because of the lack of communication between us and plus, the neglect and psychological abuse ever since I was still little. Monitor, my ass. He didn't monitor me. He rarely spent time with the family, he was so overwrought in his work. Not that it was bad, I know he did for the family. But it's the trade-off. It results in less family time and more computer-and-office time. I gave him chance, to get to know me. I gave him chance to be close to me. But whenever I did, he chose gambling and work over me.

He thought he knew me just by looking at me but hey, I am never an open book in my family. They see what they want to see. They think I am who I am right now because of what they did to me. Because of their teachings and their successful attempts in raising me. It was true, in a way. I am who I am right now because of what they did to me. But not exactly like what they have in mind. I am who I am right now because they failed at their each and every so-called attempt of raising me. The only thing that they did was feed me and provide me with clothes. So he was right, it was because of them I am like this. And he was wrong, he didn't know me at all. Even I don't know me that well. How could he possibly be?

How do you convince a very orthodox parent (or parents) who thinks he knows everything about his first daughter while in fact, everything he thinks he knows about me is wrong. I never make money as my sole ambition. I am not even an ambitious person. I don't do ambitions. I don't run for myself. And he never gets that. So how can he claim he know me well? How do you tell him that what he believes is wrong, without crushing him?

What I had in my life once crushed me to pieces. The pieces were scattered and it takes a long time to find them and put them back together. I'm not sure I've found all the pieces. Sometimes I put the pieces I found in wrong places, then I had to go over and figure out where it actually belongs. Most of the times, I wonder where the remaining missing pieces are and try to look for them after identifying them. Even I don't know what and where to look. Even I haven't put myself back together. I am still incomplete so how can he be damn sure he knows me?

You don't get to claim you know me until I claim that you do.