Mental Abuse

Authenticity in Indian Culture (And Fruit Salad)

Dessert, Recipes

Okay guys, I’m feeling a little fiery today. Sorry if I come across a little…abrupt!

You guys, I want you to know that my entire extended family and our entire community in my parent’s home town think that my family is super normal and healthy. As I think about how shocking it would be for me to share my experiences growing up with some of the people who “know” my family, I find myself almost incredulous. How is it possible that people don’t know the truth about my parents?

My parents are masters at portraying a positive exterior to everyone they know. Based on what I have learned and observed growing up, Indian culture is built mostly around shame. They literally don’t talk about anything that would give anyone any reason to pass judgement. Growing up they put an unhealthy amount of pressure on me to be perfectly behaved. And for the most part, I was. The only times I remember getting in trouble is for doing things that I didn’t realize were wrong. And growing up as an Indian American in a sea of white people, this happened a lot.

I was across the street playing with the neighbor kids and they were barefoot outside. I asked why they weren’t wearing shoes and they said it felt good! They invited me to try it, so I took off my shoes and played outside with them. I came home and my grandpa jerked my arm so hard and yelled at me until I started sobbing. “Why did you take off your shoes! You never do that again!” And then that was it. No one explained to me why what I did was wrong. I didn’t realize why he was upset until I visited India for the first time at 24 years old. People who can afford to wear shoes, wear shoes. Shoes are a status symbol in India. I was acting like a poor person by going barefoot outside. No one ever explained that to me.

My parents are consumed with what people think about our family. They even have other family members duped into believing that the four of us, me, my parents and brother are like this super harmonious family unit. I mean, that couldn’t be further from the truth. There was never one ounce of harmony in my family growing up. I have cut my parents out of my life because I was tired of pretending that our relationship was happy. In order to maintain “peace” in our family, every single person in my family walks on egg shells around my mom. We have to make sure we don’t talk about anything that will trigger her into an episode of imbalanced rage. And I just refuse to do that anymore.

Literally no one but a few people in my immediate and extended family know how imbalanced my mom is and how violent her temper can be. And yet, if you asked anyone in the world what they think about my mom, they would use the words, gentle, loving, quiet, sweet, a good cook. And she is all of those things to people she doesn’t know.

But to me, she is a tyrant. The reason my childhood is filled with nothing but terror. The reason I live with depression. They call the type of trauma I experienced growing up Developmental Trauma. It’s similar to the type of trauma people experience in refugee camps. It basically means you were afraid for your safety for an extended period of time, like, months or years. For me it was my entire childhood until the day I moved to LA. And even then, her verbal and mental abuse could reach me across the country. When I think about it, I feel like forgiveness is impossible. But I know that’s not the truth. I will continue to process and grieve and forgiveness will come with time and reflection. But that doesn’t mean she will ever be a part of my life again.

Luke’s family asked me to bring a fruit salad to Easter brunch. I don’t love fruit. Luke is allergic to most fruit. I think fruit salad is like, the lamest dish ever. So, I bought ready-made fruit salad from the store and dumped it into a casserole dish. Doesn’t it look like I made it myself? Blah.

Easter Fruit Salad. I bought ready-made fruit salad from the grocery store and dumped it into a casserole dish. Done and Done
The red casserole dish really ties my dish together, haha!

Dysfunction vs Indian Culture (And GF Lemon Cake)

Dessert, Recipes

I’m still thinking about what about my childhood was due to dysfunction, vs what was truly representative of Indian culture.

Abuse is definitely normalized in Indian culture, but that only means that they don’t think abuse is abuse. Abuse itself is prevalent through all people groups. I think it’s also common that in Indian culture, discipline is always abusive, whether it’s emotional, mental or physical. Dropping hot wax on your kids while interrogating them on their recent actions, physically punching your kids into submission, screaming at your kids so hard they start to run away from you, hitting them with shoes, locking your kids in basements for days at a time are all things that have happened to children in my family.

I remember watching my dad twist my mom’s arm out of its socket during one of their many fights about money. My dad was upset with my mom for sending money back to her family in India. They were standing on opposite sides of our living room screaming at each other. My mom threw her checkbook at my dad in anger, and my dad stormed over to her and twister her arm so hard that it ended up being backwards in her socket. That’s not because we are Indian, right? That’s just plain dysfunction. I was in the room when it happened, and yet my parents refused to talk about it. They didn’t go to the hospital. They twisted my mom’s arm back into place and never discussed it again.

The next year my mom started to experience chronic pain in the same arm. She went to doctor appointment after doctor appointment but never told them about the incident. I remember sitting in every doctor’s office and thinking to myself, why isn’t she telling them about what happened? Not talking about this incident, pretending this incident didn’t happen and acting like everything is okay is 100% Indian culture. I think, anyways.

So, if discipline in Indian culture is often abusive, one could argue that a common theme among Indian culture is a lack of importance on mental health. I can only speak for my mom. She is chronically depressed. She is addicted to opioids. I think the opioids have caused permanent brain damage. She can’t draw logic from logic anymore. And she’s mentally unstable. My entire family walks on egg shells around her. We are careful not to say anything that would trigger an outburst. My dad’s entire world revolves around keeping her stable.

Also, I’d just like to point out that my family HATES the idea of this blog. They would be mortified that I am being so open about my family history of dysfunction. And even though I don’t play their game, I still feel nervous about publishing a blog that focuses on my own healing process. But this blog is my way of grieving and processing all of the layers of trauma and abuse I experienced growing up in my family. I am changing my family legacy by living in truth and authenticity and ending the generational cycle of abuse. I am so proud of the work I have done with a therapist. Indian culture tells me I should be ashamed of speaking to a therapist. Ashamed of my depression. And ashamed to be talking about my family this way. I vehemently reject these notions and anyone who tries to impose these standards in my life. I am 100% done pretending that my family or my childhood was happy and loving. Done.

Okay, I made a lemon cake this week to bring to a friend’s house. It turned out pretty good! I’m not a huge sweets person and this cake turned out a little too sweet for my taste. I’m just not used to eating this much sugar. But, my hubby and my friends loved it. Here’s the recipe I worked from. Gluten free and grain free too!

My favorite part was making the lemon curd from scratch. I had to take a whole lemon, rind and all, and boil them for 15 minutes. Then, cut them open and remove the seeds. Then put the whole lemon into a food processor and blend until totally smooth. So easy, and it added such an intense lemon flavor!

I made home made lemon curd, and it was so easy! This is a photo of me boiling the whole lemons, before putting them in the food processor.
Boiling the whole lemons

Next up…carefully removing the lemon seeds!

Removing the lemon seeds is an important step. Make sure to wait until the lemons are cool enough to handle.
So much lemony goodness 🙂

Then add them to the food processor and blend away!

Homemade lemon curd is the easiest thing to make. No need to buy it at the store ever again.
Homemade lemon curd! I feel like the Pioneer Woman!

I completely forgot to take a picture of my final product. But here’s a pic of the leftovers, haha. This was a relatively easy recipe and everyone really liked it! I would say, if you’re not used to eating things made with almond flour, you might not like it. Because that definitely gives the cake a different texture. But our family (actually only me, not so much Luke) is all about the gluten free life, so this was a really tasty treat for us to enjoy with friends!