Saad Jamshaid

27100159

Personal Essay draft

As a child of a dedicated officer in the Pakistan Army, my early years were marked by a
nomadic existence, characterized by frequent relocations and separations. Yet, during a particular
four-year period, our family encountered a profound crucible of trials, a chapter defined by a
convergence of personal upheavals, and social disconnections. At the age of eleven, the tremors
of change shook the foundations of our family's life, when my father was forcefully relocated to
Rawalpindi while we remained nestled in the familiar embrace of Lahore, under the watchful
care of our grandparents.

The burden of my father's affliction weighed heavily on my young shoulders, even as we

found refuge in the sanctuary of our grandparents' home. As a child, it was challenging to
grapple with the enormity of his struggle, struggling to reconcile the image of the strong, stoic
officer with the reality of a man consumed by his demons. The head of this family was not
perfect, but he did everything he had to, to provide for and nurture his three children. It was his
isolation from his loved ones that amplified his defects for the whole family to see. Our family
would unite once a month for one weekend and during this rendezvous, his red skin and
bloodshot eyes were easy to decipher, even for an eleven-year-old such as myself. Knowing what
was happening and pretending that everything was a ray of sunshine was truly hollowing. Every
little moment was tinged with an inescapable reality that alcohol was now coursing through the
backbone of our family. A young boy idolizes his father, emulating his every move. Witnessing
my idol in such a state was like a jagged blade tearing through my soul. Unfortunately, he did not
get the chance to impart crucial lessons to me as a teenager but instead offered a unique
opportunity to learn from his mistakes rather than just his guidance.

Amid my father's descent, my mother emerged as a pillar of strength, her resilience

serving as a beacon of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf us. Yet even her
unwavering resolve was not immune to the strain of our circumstances. I watched helplessly as
she grappled with the dual burdens of caregiving and emotional turmoil, her once vibrant spirit
dimmed by the weight of her burdens. It was a demon, rage that had now found its way to her
and she became unpredictable, unprecedented, and like a person on the verge of collapse. The
family matriarch had lost it, every little thing said and done by her three children would set her
off like a bomb. Her tolerance had diminished, and her mere presence radiated resentment.
Marrying an officer made her resilient and determined but as this dwindled, she became a mere
child not knowing what to do and this feeling of powerlessness consumed her. My siblings and I
suffered, the treatment we received, the yelling, and the abuse were all it took for a trembling
fear to develop, a fear of our family’s caregiver. Initially, my hatred for her grew, but as time
went on, I understood and empathized with her as the woman was only trying her best, but the
surrounding circumstances had defeated her. This made me realize that parents are also prone to
the world’s many cruelties and are not superheroes children envision them to be.

Furthermore, our extended family acted as a corrosive acid, further eating away at our
troubles. Rather than offering solace or support, they became unwitting antagonists in our
struggle, their judgmental attitudes serving only to exacerbate our sense of isolation and
alienation. There had started to exist a false narrative that us three siblings, were fatherless
children mothered by someone incapable of dealing with her emotions. Everyone believed that
we were in desperate need of their help and that they could be the saviors we did not know were
needed. All the males lined up to teach my brother and me how one can be a man, the women
were busy pitying my mother and gossiping about all the ways they were superior. We were able
to see through this pathetic charade whose only objective was to serve as a reminder of the
complexities my parents were having and how one could perceive them as incapable of raising
three children. They might have been right as children can easily be blinded by love for their
parents, but they were wrong in assuming they could ever replace them. This significantly
contributed to my disgust for some of my relatives as interacting with them only reminds me of
the venom they spewed during this dark period.

As the years passed and the trials multiplied, I found myself grappling with a whirlwind
of conflicting emotions. Anger and resentment vied for dominance within my heart, threatening
to consume me in their fiery embrace. Yet, time proved to be a healer, offering not just solace
but also a broader perspective and a glimmer of hope that all trials will end. These desperate
times imparted valuable lessons on the significance our decisions and actions can have on our
loved ones. Observing my parents taught me valuable lessons about what to avoid in life and
how circumstances may be beyond our control but our reactions to them will shape our path
forward.

In retrospect, I look back at the joy my father’s retirement brought me at the end of these
grueling four years. We were once again headed for tough times. The challenges we faced
afterward were greater but as our family was whole, that did not matter as having each other was
the one thing we craved for the longest time. I now look at our family with immense love and
pride as these tiring times formed an eternal bond and now, we are willing to do whatever it
takes to preserve it.