How a person treats themselves today may have been learned long ago.

My father was a factory worker, and my mother worked in a factory.

There are five children in my family. I am the fourth child. I have two older sisters, one older brother, and one younger brother.

In this family, I am neither the eldest nor the youngest. My parents are busy making a living every day, and I am just one of five children.

Looking back now, I know my parents really worked hard.

In those days, the family's economic conditions were not good. Their most important thing every day was to work, earn money, and find a way to keep the family alive.

In my memory, my parents were always working.

When they get home from work, they don't care much about how well we did on our homework, and they rarely have time to sit down and ask us what's on our minds. What they care about more is whether we've done our chores around the house.

When we were little, we also had to help with family crafts.

We have to work during the normal year, but even more during the summer vacation. We can only rest for two or three days if the factory happens to be out of stock.

For me as a child, "holiday" didn't mean playing or resting, but rather having more time to help with chores.

We often have to ask our parents many times to get what we need, even if it's just something we normally use at school. As for things we want outside of school, we almost never need to ask, because I know they're impossible to fulfill.

I've never celebrated my birthday since I was a child.

When I have a toothache, my parents will use traditional methods to relieve the pain, but they won't take me to see a doctor.

Back then, life seemed to demand so much of me, yet few people asked me, "Are you in pain?" "Are you scared?" "What do you need?"

If things aren't done well, what awaits us is often beatings and scoldings.

When I was a child, I didn't understand what life pressure was, nor did I know that my parents were bearing the heavy burden of raising five children.

Children can only understand whether they are important and loved by how their parents treat them.

Therefore, I have suspected more than once:

"Am I really their biological child?"

Now that I'm writing this, I understand that I'm not blaming my parents.

That was just an explanation a child made for himself when he couldn't feel loved.

If I am their biological child, why does no one care about my feelings? Why are my needs so hard to be seen? Why do I always have to do things perfectly to avoid being beaten or scolded?

Over time, I learned to stay tense.

I must pay attention to whether things are done well, I must avoid making mistakes, and I must mature early.

When I got to high school, I started working part-time while studying, working during the day and studying at night.

I seem to have understood quite early on that there isn't much room for reliance in life. If you want something, you have to rely on yourself; you can't shirk the responsibilities you have to bear; when things come up, you have to find a way to accomplish them.

These experiences later became a part of my life.

As I've grown up, I want to do everything well.

I'm afraid of making mistakes, I'm used to taking responsibility, and I often blame myself when things don't go as planned. Even when I'm physically exhausted, it's still not easy for me to truly relax.

I have always had poor sleep quality and often have difficulty falling asleep.

Looking back now, I slowly realize that perhaps my body has already laid down, but the child inside me who has always been afraid of not doing things well has not truly rested.

She was still thinking: Did I do something wrong today? Did I let others down? What responsibilities await me tomorrow?

I had thought that my childhood was over.

I later realized that the past doesn't just exist in memories. Sometimes, it becomes how we treat ourselves.

Our parents used to ask us to do things well, and as we grow up, we ask ourselves not to make mistakes.

Parents don't have much time to understand our feelings, and we may get used to ignoring our own fatigue.

When we were young, we were afraid of being scolded for not doing well; when we grow up, even if no one scolds us anymore, we still take on that role in our hearts and continue to blame ourselves.

This is also a profound insight I gained later when I began to understand "how to treat oneself and how to deal with others".

It turns out that the place where we first learn how to treat ourselves is often our family.

Parents are the first mirror we learn to use to teach ourselves how to treat ourselves.

But this is not to blame the parents.

I know my parents worked very hard, and I know that in their time, working hard to provide food and education for their five children was perhaps the best they could do to show their love.

Some parents don't know how to express love or understand their children's feelings. They can only continue to raise the next generation using the methods they once learned.

After understanding all this, I still try my best to be filial to my parents in the way I can.

I usually try to meet their needs whenever they make a request. Even when I feel a lot of pressure, I find it hard to refuse because I always feel that if it's something I can do, I should do it for them.

Perhaps, this is still the me who has always tried to do things well since I was a child.

She hopes to please her parents, to be a good daughter, and to repay them for their hard work back then through her continuous efforts.

But now I'm starting to learn too:

Being filial to one's parents does not mean ignoring one's own feelings.

Understanding your parents doesn't mean denying the pain you've experienced.

I know they really had a tough time back then, and I also admit that I did feel lonely, scared, and unappreciated during my childhood.

These two things can coexist.

We don't need to turn our parents into bad people to embrace our childhood selves; nor do we need to deny our own wounds to prove that we have forgiven our parents.

True understanding is not about finding an excuse for the past and telling yourself "it's nothing".

Instead, she finally had the ability to go back to that child and say to her: "I know you were really scared back then." "I know you tried your best." "Not doing things well doesn't mean you don't deserve to be loved."

The compassion that Guanyin Bodhisattva taught me is not only about understanding the hardships my parents have endured, but also about being willing to look back at the wounded version of myself after understanding them.

Because compassion is not just about being lenient with others, but about continuing to be strict with yourself.

True compassion is about ensuring that love is not directed in only one direction.

We can love and be filial to our parents, and we can also start learning to protect and understand ourselves, leaving some space for our own body and mind.

We cannot change the childhood we experienced, nor can we necessarily wait for our parents to love us again in the way we long for.

But today, we can make different choices.

When things don't go well, don't immediately blame yourself. When you're physically exhausted, allow yourself to rest. When your parents make requests, ask yourself first: Do I have the ability right now? If I feel uncomfortable, can I honestly express it instead of putting myself last again?

True growth is not about changing the past.

Instead, starting today, we will stop treating ourselves the way we were treated in the past.

Parents are the first mirror we learn to use to teach ourselves how to treat ourselves, but they don't have to be the last.

Once we begin to see, we have the opportunity to choose again:

How should I treat myself?

Leave a question for yourself.

 Today, are you unconsciously continuing to demand or blame yourself in the way your parents used to treat you?