recently, i have been thinking about moving out.
i need a place where i can study, read, think, and organize my life according to my own priorities.
when we live with our family for a long time, the routines, rhythms, and expectations that shaped our daily lives were established long before we became aware of them.
when a way of living has been with us for decades, it becomes difficult to tell where our own preferences end and inherited expectations begin.
perhaps that is why, whenever I consider taking that step, hesitation quickly follows.
my mother would be lonely
leaving could be selfish…
and i wonder if you have ever experienced something similar.
realizing how difficult it can be to distinguish between your own voice and the voices you have absorbed from the people around you.
many of us grow up in families and cultures where considering other people is seen as a virtue. before making a decision, we think about how it might affect our parents, friends,…
we learn to be thoughtful. and we learn to be responsible. we learn to care about others.
we are so busy considering everyone else that we forget to include ourselves in the equation.
let me take an example
someone asks where we want to eat.
“we can go anywhere” / “you choose” / “i’m fine with either option”
i can understand that they all come from good intentions. flexibility strengthens relationships.
how rarely we ask ourselves a simple question: what do i actually want?
over time, this habit becomes so natural that we no longer recognize it. we become skilled at sensing other people’s preferences, emotions, and expectations.
meanwhile, our own voice grows quieter through lack of use.
so where does this habit come from?
this idea became cleaner to me through a concept from Nonviolent Communication (NVC). one reflective exercise invites us to revisit an important event and examine not only what happened, but also the meaning we assigned to it.
following the trail a little further back, i found a memory of a 5-year old child.
she had packed all her clothes into a plastic bag, lined up her shoes neatly by the door, and announced that she was leaving home.
her mom became upset and told her that she was making her suffer, that she was being a bad child.
that child had a feeling. that child had a need.
perhaps a need for autonomy, freedom, attention, understanding, or simply to be heard.
but instead of learning how to interpret it, she learned how to look away from it, to pay attention to others’ pain first.
years later, the same pattern appeared in much smaller moments.
what unconscious contract have i signed?
an unconscious contract is an agreement we make without ever realizing it. often formed in childhood, these contracts emerge from our attempts to secure love, safety, belonging, or approval.
they sound something like this:
if i take care of others, i will be loved.
if i do not disappoint people, i will belong.
if i stay, people will be okay.
if i sacrifice enough, i will be a good one.
through thousands of interactions and observations, we begin living as though they are binding obligations.
we forget that we ever signed them.
we absorb the belief that being a good person means staying close and minimizing pain for others.
the result is, the feeling that pursuing what i wanted would violate this contract.
what i just realized,
in Vietnamese, we say:
“Không có mợ, chợ vẫn đông”.
the saying is often interpreted as a reminder that no individual is indispensable
we can also interpret it as a reminder of the remarkable ability of people and systems to adapt.
families adapt.
organizations adapt.
relationships adapt.
life continues to move forward.
can others survive without us?
yes, they can.
before asking whether a decision is right or wrong, perhaps we should ask a different question:
whose voice is speaking when i make it?
i wish every child could grow up knowing that their needs matter too.
p.s: Like many parents, she was probably doing the best she could with what she knew at the time.
