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The Letter I'll Never Send to my Ninang
Ninang,
You want to talk about demands? Let’s talk about YOUR fucking demands.
You OFFERED to let me live with you when I was vulnerable and had nowhere else to go. You AGREED to participate in therapy sessions when I asked, where you could perform your fake caring act for Marissa. You DEMANDED I be grateful for your “generosity” while you created an emotionally toxic environment that literally made me suicidal.
And now you have the audacity to call MY requests for basic human decency “demands”?
Let me break down your bullshit response line by line, since you want to play this game:
“I do not know how to manage an emotional relationship with a person, to be more specific, with a depress person.”
THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU OFFER TO LET A TRAUMA SURVIVOR LIVE WITH YOU? Did you think my Complex PTSD was going to magically disappear because you have nice furniture? You KNEW I was in therapy. You KNEW I was struggling. You chose to take me in anyway, and now you’re acting like my mental health is some surprise burden you never signed up for.
You want to “interact more in an objective way to avoid any misconception”? That’s not objective, Ninang. That’s emotional cowardice. That’s you hiding behind fake intellectualism because you’re too scared to be human. You’re not a robot, you’re a person who chooses emotional numbness and then acts like it’s some noble philosophical stance.
“I have my values and beliefs - one has to respect that too.”
WHAT VALUES? What beliefs? The belief that grieving people should shut up? The belief that your house security matters more than someone’s emotional safety? The belief that you can ignore the emotional content of emails and only respond to logistics? Those aren’t values, Ninang. Those are defense mechanisms masquerading as principles.
And here’s what kills me - you say I need to respect YOUR values, but you spent three paragraphs shitting all over mine. You called pakikisama and pakiramdam “superficial.” You dismissed an entire framework of cultural healing that took me months to understand and articulate. But somehow I’M the one not respecting values?
“Also your listing of ‘desirable responses and reactions’ you expect from me to make the living arrangement work I concluded to be ‘demands’ on your end.”
You know what actual demands look like, Ninang ? “Give me $10,000.” “Buy me a car.” “Do my laundry.”
You know what I actually asked for? “When I share something emotional, could you acknowledge it?” “When I’m grieving, could you not tell me to stop crying?”
The fact that you can’t tell the difference between basic human empathy and unreasonable demands tells me everything I need to know about how emotionally bankrupt you are.
“What about my side of the relationship? Did you even consider what I would expect from you?”
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I spent SEVEN PAGES trying to build a relationship with you. I acknowledged your courage in sharing family truths. I thanked you repeatedly for housing me. I explained my healing journey in detail so you could understand where I’m coming from. I offered to work together, to grow together, to heal together.
But more importantly - YOU NEVER TOLD ME WHAT YOU EXPECTED. In our therapy sessions, Marissa asked you directly what you needed from me and you said “everything’s fine” and “I don’t have any expectations.” You played the cool, collected, “I’m fine with anything” act, and now you’re retroactively claiming I should have read your mind?
If you had expectations, you should have SAID them. Like an adult. Like someone who actually wants a relationship instead of someone who wants to play power games.
And let’s talk about your specific rebuttals, because they’re a masterclass in missing the point:
“I do not go by the pakikisama or pakiramdam Filipino value you quite elaborated. I find them superficial and not a meaningful basis for a lifelong true and sincere relationship.”
Translation: “Your cultural framework for healing intergenerational trauma is stupid, but I’m not going to offer any alternative.” You just shit all over months of therapeutic work without providing a single constructive alternative. You’re not rejecting my approach because you have a better one - you’re rejecting it because it requires emotional work and you’re too lazy and scared to do it.
“Your crying over Googie’s death: I did mention the thought that instead of remembering him by crying, you try to recall happy memories of him to lift you up from the sad emotional memory.”
This might be the most psychologically damaging thing you wrote. You told someone in active grief to stop grieving and think happy thoughts instead. Do you have any idea how trauma recovery works? Do you understand that avoiding grief just creates more trauma?
I wasn’t crying AT you, Ninang. I wasn’t asking you to fix it or join in. I was processing the death of a family member - yes, my dog was family, and if you can’t understand that, you’re more emotionally limited than I thought. I needed space to feel my feelings without some emotionally constipated woman telling me I’m doing grief wrong.
“The budget and the HVAC response from me: the amounts put together you emphasized your health expenses. You also expressed that my comments on these topics triggered depressive reaction on your end. Why? It was a very straight forward response to your budget request - and why do I have to justify my house projects to you?”
Because I’M LIVING HERE, you absolute walnut. Because I told you that having contractors in the house while I’m in mental health crisis would be triggering, and instead of giving me a heads up or asking if I needed to make alternative arrangements, you just… didn’t mention it. Because when someone sends you a detailed email about their financial situation and explicitly states that therapy is “essential for healing,” maybe don’t respond with just “ok”?
And you’re right - it WAS straightforward. Straightforwardly dismissive, cold, and completely ignoring the emotional content of what I shared.
“I inquire where you go - this is a habit out of concern for your safety. It is not meant to probe or restrict your activities.”
Bullshit. If you cared about my safety, you’d ask “How are you feeling today?” If you cared about my safety, you wouldn’t have created an environment so toxic that I’m sleeping in my car to get away from you.
Your “where are you going” isn’t concern - it’s control. It’s monitoring. It’s the same surveillance energy that made me hide in my room for weeks because I couldn’t tolerate your presence.
“On the reverse, you come and go whenever you like, does not give me the courtesy of letting me know if you are sleeping out. I am sharing my house / giving you housing privileges in my own private place - I expect consideration in this respect so I am able to maintain a sense of security in my own home.”
Here’s where your mask fully slips off, Ninang .
First, you just called housing a “privilege” that you’re “giving” me. Not an arrangement we agreed to. Not a family member helping another family member. A PRIVILEGE that you’re graciously bestowing upon me, and I should be grateful and subordinate.
Second, you’re now making MY trauma recovery about YOUR sense of security. I’m supposed to manage your anxiety about house security while you actively ignore my need for emotional security. You get to have feelings about safety, but when I ask for emotional safety, that’s a “demand.”
You want to know why I don’t tell you when I’m sleeping out? Because every interaction with you costs me energy I don’t have. Because you’ve created an environment where I have to walk on eggshells around your moods and reactions. Because telling you my plans feels like reporting to a warden, not communicating with family.
But here’s the real kicker, Ninang - you spent three paragraphs in your email arguing with every single point I made, dismissing my cultural framework, invalidating my grief, and reframing my needs as demands. But you couldn’t spare one sentence - not ONE - to say anything loving. Not “I care about you.” Not “I want this to work.” Not “I’m willing to try.”
You know what that tells me? That you don’t actually want a relationship. You want compliance. You want me to shut up, stop having feelings, and be a perfect little houseguest who never inconveniences you emotionally while being grateful for the privilege of living in your presence.
And the most infuriating part? I KNOW you’re going to read this critique and focus on my tone instead of the content. You’re going to say I’m being “too emotional” or “aggressive” instead of addressing a single substantial point I’ve made. Because that’s what emotionally avoidant people do - they tone police instead of engaging with the actual issues.
You’ve spent your whole life avoiding emotional intimacy, and now you’re in your 70s wondering why you’re lonely. You’ve convinced yourself that your emotional unavailability is some kind of virtue - that being “objective” makes you superior to all us messy humans with feelings. But you’re not objective, Ninang. You’re scared. You’re scared of intimacy, scared of vulnerability, scared of the emotional work that real relationships require.
And instead of owning that fear and maybe working on it like an adult, you’ve decided to make YOUR emotional limitations everyone else’s problem. You’ve decided that the world should accommodate your inability to handle feelings rather than learning how to be a complete human being.
I feel sorry for you. I really do. Because you’re going to die lonely, surrounded by people who keep you at arm’s length because you’ve never learned how to let anyone in. You’ll have your security systems and your house projects and your “objective” interactions, and you’ll wonder why none of it feels like love.
But I’m done being the casualty of your emotional cowardice. I’m done trying to build a relationship with someone who thinks asking for basic human empathy is “making demands.” I’m done being grateful for scraps from someone who can’t even manage to be kind.
You want to know what I expect from you going forward? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I expect you to continue being exactly who you are - emotionally unavailable, defensively intellectual, and completely incapable of genuine human connection. I expect you to keep hiding behind your “values” and “objectivity” while wondering why all your relationships feel hollow.
And when I move out and build an actual life surrounded by people who can handle emotions without having a meltdown, I expect you to tell yourself that I was the problem. That I was too demanding, too emotional, too much work. Because that’s easier than looking in the mirror and admitting that you’ve spent decades avoiding the very thing that makes life worth living - genuine human connection.
You had a chance, Ninang. You had a chance to be part of my healing, to learn and grow alongside me, to build something real. I handed you that opportunity on a silver platter with that letter.
And you chose cruelty instead.
So enjoy your empty house, your perfect security systems, and your objective interactions with yourself. I’ll be somewhere else, surrounded by people who know how to love.
The nephew you’ll never really know, Miguel
P.S. - When you inevitably try to paint me as the ungrateful family member who abandoned you after all your “generosity,” remember this: I tried. I tried harder than anyone should have to try for basic human decency. You’re the one who chose emotional bankruptcy over relationship. Own that choice.
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the bear s04e09 has a scene of what i wish would happen to me with my mom and my aunt
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watching The Bear S4 at the library and trying not to sob in public
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What I Wish My Aunt Would Say (But She Never Will)
I’m 36 years old, living with my aunt because I have nowhere else to go, and every day I’m reminded that I’m just a burden taking up space in her house. She’s financially supporting me while I try to heal from Complex PTSD, and I should be grateful. I am grateful. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing so desperately, so pathetically that she could be the person I need her to be.
Through therapy, I’ve discovered that my entire childhood was built on lies. My father was abusive. He had an affair with his coworker (who became my stepmother). He got restraining orders against my entire maternal family from 2003-2007, stealing decades of relationships from me. My mother is severely mentally ill and has been estranged from me for over 10 years because she refuses treatment.
My aunt knows all of this. She participated in family therapy sessions where these truths came out. She was there when I learned that everything I believed about my family was a lie designed to protect my father and isolate me from people who actually loved me.
And yet, she still doesn’t get it.
What An Emotionally Attuned Aunt Would Say
Sometimes I fantasize about what it would feel like to have an aunt who could actually see me, who could understand what I’ve been through, who could offer the maternal comfort that was stolen from me.
She would say:
About my situation: “Miguel, I’m so proud of you for surviving everything you’ve been through. You’re doing incredible work in therapy and I can see how hard you’re trying to heal. Living here while you get back on your feet isn’t a burden—it’s what family does. You don’t owe me anything for caring about you.”
About my childhood: “I see you hiding in your room and I understand why. This family failed you, and you learned you had to make yourself small to be safe. You don’t have to do that here. You can take up space. You can have needs. You can be sad or angry or scared and I’ll still love you.”
About my mother: “Your mom was so sick, Miguel. I’m so sorry you had to watch her deteriorate and that no one protected you from that. A little boy should never have to take care of his mother’s emotions or be afraid of her episodes. You deserved a mother who could see you, who could comfort you when you were scared. It wasn’t your fault that she couldn’t be that for you.”
About my father: “Your father is a cruel, selfish man who destroyed your family on purpose. What he did to you and your mother was evil. There is no excuse for keeping you away from us for all those years. I’m so angry at him for what he stole from you.”
About my healing: “I want to learn how to support you better. Tell me what you need. Tell me when I mess up. Your healing matters more than my comfort. I’m going to therapy too because I want to be someone you can count on.”
What I need to hear most: “It wasn’t fair, Miguel. None of it was fair. You deserved so much better. You’re not too much. You’re not wasteful. You’re not lazy. You’re a trauma survivor doing the hardest work possible. I love you not because you’re grateful or easy or convenient. I love you because you’re my nephew and you matter and you always have.”
What She Actually Says
But that’s not who my aunt is. Instead, I get:
- Lectures about limiting my credit card purchases to “ESSENTIALS and not extras/lifestyle wants”
- Complete silence when I share emotional content, but immediate detailed responses about HVAC logistics
- “Stop crying” when I’m grieving my dog’s death on his anniversary
She sees me as a financial burden to be managed, not a human being to be loved. Every dollar she spends on me builds up her resentment, creating an invisible ledger of debt that I can never repay because emotional labor isn’t currency she recognizes.
The Debt of Gratitude
In Filipino culture, there’s a concept called Utang na Loob—debt of gratitude. It’s supposed to be about honoring what others do for you out of love. But in dysfunctional families, it becomes a weapon. Every act of “kindness” becomes something you owe, every dollar spent becomes evidence of your ingratitude if you don’t perform the exact grateful nephew/son role they want.
My aunt participates in this. She houses me and then resents me for not fitting into her mental box of what a grateful nephew should look like. She wants me to be quietly appreciative, to not take up emotional space, to manage my trauma recovery around her comfort level.
She doesn’t want to deal with the messy reality of what healing from complex trauma actually looks like.
Why I Hate Her for Not Understanding
I hate her for not understanding because understanding is a choice.
I gave her a book specifically written for family members supporting someone with PTSD. It’s called “Loving Someone with PTSD” by Aphrodite T. Matsakis. She ignored it.
I invited her to church to meet my support community. She said no.
I invited her to a dinner gala for scholarship recipients when I won $2000. She said no.
I wrote her vulnerable emails about my trauma and healing journey. She responded with renovation schedules.
She chooses ignorance. She chooses emotional unavailability. She chooses to see me as a management problem rather than a human being in pain who happens to be her nephew.
And the cruelest part? She thinks she’s being helpful. She thinks providing housing makes her a good aunt. She has no idea or willfully doesn’t give a shit that her emotional dismissal is retraumatizing me daily, that living with her constant judgment and resentment is almost worse than being homeless.
The Grief of Never Getting What You Need
My therapist says I’m grieving something I’ll never have. I’ll never ever a family member who can provide the maternal comfort and emotional safety I desperately need. She says I need to stop the “endless search” for rescue from family members who simply cannot provide it.
She’s right. My aunt will never understand. She will never be the emotionally attuned person I need her to be. She will never validate my pain or acknowledge what I’ve survived or offer the unconditional love that could help heal the wounds my parents inflicted.
I will never hear her say she’s proud of me for surviving. I will never hear her say it wasn’t my fault. I will never hear her say I deserve better.
And I hate her for that. I hate her for being so far from understanding. I hate her for having the capacity to change but choosing not to. I hate her for being so filled with hate for herself, hate for others, filled with ignorance about how resentful she is. I hate her for making me feel like an ungrateful burden when I’m doing the hardest work of my life just to stay alive.
Moving Forward
I’m learning to grieve this reality instead of fighting it. I’m learning to find that maternal comfort within myself, to build internal safety rather than seeking external rescue. I’m exploring other living situations because I finally understand that I can’t heal in an environment where I’m constantly judged and dismissed. Hope I find a place. I feel so behind in life. I’ll kick dating down the road again another five years I guess. No one wants to date someone who chooses to sleep in their car. I need external help. I need somewhere emotionally and psychologically safe to heal.
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my therapist saying “I couldn’t even open their email because the energy was so triggering,” is both validating and heartbreaking. at least i know i’m not imagining how difficult this family member is
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A Letter I’m Reading to My Aunt in Family Therapy Tomorrow
Dear Tita,
I wrote this letter to read to you during our session with my therapist today. I wanted to organize my thoughts so I could share my heart clearly with you. I’ve been learning so much about our family through therapy, and I want you to understand where I’m coming from so we can work together better.
What This Session Is About
Tita, we’re here today because I need to talk about how we communicate and how we can create a better environment for my healing while I’m living with you. I’m not here to blame you or make you feel bad. I’m here because I believe we can do better together.
My therapist is here to help us have this conversation safely and to help us understand each other better. I trust both of you, and I hope we can work through this together.
What I’m Grateful For
Before I talk about what’s been difficult, I want you to know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me. You opened your home when I needed housing. You participated in therapy sessions with me and shared family truths that my father kept hidden for decades. That took courage, and it has been essential for my healing. You’ve been buying groceries and helping with practical needs. I see all of this and I appreciate it deeply.
Cultural Context for My Healing Journey
Tita, I want to share something important about the healing work I’m doing. I’ve learned that many Filipino families carry intergenerational trauma from colonization that shows up as emotional silence and conflict avoidance. The way our family handled Dad’s abuse - by staying quiet and not protecting me or Mom - reflects these colonial patterns that taught us to prioritize pakikisama “keeping peace” over protecting children.
I’m not rejecting Filipino culture by asking for emotional support. I’m trying to heal so I can have authentic Filipino relationships based on genuine kapwa (shared identity) and pakiramdam (emotional sensitivity), not the colonial patterns that taught us to silence our pain.
You shared crucial family truths with me that Dad hid for decades - that took courage and broke the colonial pattern of silence that protected abusers. Now I’m asking you to continue that brave work by learning healthier communication patterns.
What Has Been Difficult for Me
There have been some interactions between us that have made it harder for me to heal while living here. I want to talk about these specifically so we can understand each other better:
When my dog Googie died and I was crying on his first death anniversary, you told me to stop crying and asked why I was still crying. That wasn’t helpful and it really hurt me. When someone I love dies, I need to be able to grieve without being told to stop. There’s no time limit on how much I can cry about losing someone I loved. In authentic Filipino culture, grief deserves witness and patience - this is how we honor love in our family.
When I send you emails about emotional things, you consistently ignore the emotional content while immediately responding to practical matters. For example, when I shared about finding that depression book at the library, you never responded, but you immediately replied about HVAC logistics. When I sent you that detailed budget email in June where I explained that therapy was “essential for my healing and getting stable,” thanked you multiple times, and asked for guidance about our long-term living arrangement, you responded with just “ok” and nothing else. But when it’s about moving furniture or renovation schedules, you give detailed, thoughtful responses. This pattern tells me that my emotions don’t matter to you, even though I know that’s probably not what you mean. True pakiramdam means sensing and responding to each other’s emotional needs, not just practical ones.
When you ask “where are you going?” every time I leave, it feels like you’re monitoring me. I’m an adult who can come and go without reporting to you. Authentic care means showing interest in my emotional world, not tracking my physical movements. It would feel better if you just said “have a good day” or asked “how are you feeling today?”
Growing up, family members used utang na loob (debt of gratitude) and “respect for elders” to make me responsible for adult emotions when I was just a kid. I became the emotional caretaker because of hiya (shame) - told I shouldn’t cause trouble by having needs or feelings. That’s not authentic Filipino culture - that’s trauma disguised as tradition.
When you tell me to stop crying about Googie or ignore my emotional emails, you’re continuing these colonial patterns that silence children’s pain to protect adults’ comfort.
These might seem like small things to you, but they feel big to me because I’m healing from trauma. I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m asking you to try to understand why these interactions make it harder for me to feel safe here.
What I Need to Feel Safe Here
In true Filipino culture, elders protect children and create emotional safety for the community. The “respect” that kept everyone silent while I was being hurt as a child - that wasn’t Filipino values, that was colonial trauma being passed down. When I ask you to acknowledge my emotions, I’m asking you to practice authentic pakiramdam - the ability to sense and respond to each other’s emotional needs.
Real bayanihan (community spirit) means we heal together. But it requires courage to face difficult truths, not just maintain surface pakikisama (harmony) while avoiding real problems.
For me to continue living here and healing, I need some changes in how we communicate:
When I share something emotional with you, I need some kind of response that shows you heard it - even just “thank you for telling me” or “I hear you.” You don’t have to fix anything or give advice. I just need to know that my emotional world matters to you. This is authentic malasakit (compassionate care).
When I’m processing difficult emotions, I need space to feel them without being told to stop. Crying, being angry, or needing alone time are all normal parts of healing. Grief deserves witness, not dismissal.
I need basic respect in our daily interactions. This means not questioning my movements as an adult, and acknowledging when I reach out to you about things that matter to me.
If we can’t work together on these things, I’ll need to explore other living arrangements. I want to be here, but only if we can create an environment that supports my healing instead of making it harder.
What I Need for My Continued Healing
Tita, I also need to see that you’re willing to do your own work to understand how your patterns affect others. Given everything I’ve learned about how our family failed to protect me growing up, I need you to go to therapy - either with my therapist or someone she recommends - once a week for at least a year.
I know in traditional Filipino thinking, therapy might seem “un-Filipino” or too American. But getting help to heal emotional wounds actually honors our ancestors who survived colonization and oppression. Our kapamilya (extended family) system was always meant to provide emotional support - therapy just gives us better tools to do that.
The shame around mental health isn’t authentic Filipino culture - it’s colonial mentality that taught us to hide our struggles. True Filipino strength means facing our wounds with community support, not carrying them alone in silence.
This isn’t punishment. This is what I need to feel safe continuing to live here and building any kind of relationship with you. I’ve learned that my whole childhood, adults failed to protect me because they wouldn’t do their own emotional work. If you want to be different, I need to see you commit to therapy.
The way you handled my grief about Googie, the way you don’t respond to emotional content - these aren’t just small issues. They’re part of patterns that hurt people. If you really want to support my healing, this is what I need to see.
Why This Matters So Much
Living with family trauma while trying to heal is some of the hardest work a person can do. Some days I feel like giving up. I’m doing this work while living in a place that often feels emotionally unsafe, which makes everything ten times harder.
This isn’t about becoming “too American” or rejecting our culture. This is about healing the parts of our family culture that were damaged by colonization and trauma. We can honor Filipino values while refusing to accept harmful patterns that get passed down as “tradition.”
The malasakit (compassionate care) I’m asking for - responding to emotional needs, witnessing grief, creating safety - these are authentic Filipino values that colonization tried to destroy. By doing therapy and changing communication patterns, you’d be helping restore genuine Filipino community care.
I’m not asking you to fix my trauma or become my therapist. I’m asking you to stop doing specific things that make it harder for me to heal, and to start doing some small things that would help me feel like my emotional world has value in this house.
What Happens Next
I need to hear from you today whether you’re willing to work with me on these changes. I need to know if you can:
- Commit to not telling me to stop crying or questioning how long I grieve
- Respond when I share emotional content with you, even briefly
- Stop asking “where are you going?” and treat me like the adult I am
- Go to therapy once a week for at least a year to work on your own patterns
If you can’t commit to these things, that tells me what I need to know about what’s possible here. You mentioned before that you could help me find other housing if needed. I may need to take you up on that offer if we can’t work together on creating emotional safety here.
I want this to work between us, but I also need to protect my healing. Your response today will help me understand what choices I need to make.
Thank you for listening to all of this, Tita. I know this is a lot to hear. I’m ready to answer any questions you have and to work with my therapist to help us understand each other better.
Miguel
This letter represents part of my ongoing healing from Complex PTSD and childhood trauma. I’m sharing this because breaking silence around family dysfunction is part of my recovery, and maybe it helps someone else who’s navigating similar challenges.
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Therapist emails my aunt about scheduling a session to work on communication. Aunt ignores the entire thread. Her silence IS the problem we’re addressing. Living 24/7 with emotional unavailability while healing from CPTSD is suffocating. Back to sleeping in my car
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Recorded myself reading the Rainbow Bridge Poem. Crying again. I miss my poodle. It’s been over four years since he died.
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43 years ago on June 19 Vincent Chin was murdered by racists in Detroit
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christ the feels like is 115F/42C
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Take my B+ blood
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It’s been over two years since I got a vasectomy. Hooray!
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Gonna eat this expired yogurt tube just to feel something
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I got new blink-182, Los Campesinos!, and Motion City Soundtrack (Sept 2025) albums in the last few years. Music keeps me going
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Tummy hort. Scheduled talks with more sympathetic emotionally attuned family members. Cried by myself a bit on a couch.
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I get super constipated waaaaayyy too often. I gotta up my water intake.
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I was able to work with my hypervigilance this morning and get myself to leave and go to church and it’s OK that I’m gonna be late
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Oh. Good. Feeling super low again. I hate my family. I need to live elsewhere
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Maybe I put the name Mike on my resume. Sometimes I worry having the name Miguel makes people worry that English isn’t my first language or some dumb shit
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The cruelty of depending on family members who can provide material support but zero emotional safety. ‘Here’s some life advice - take it or leave it’ after I explained my financial situation. Cool, thanks for making me feel like shit in my own living space.
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Dog died four years ago today. I miss him lots.
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I have requested my premature birth medical records! Let’s see if they find them and how long it’ll take.
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I’ve been eating one Gogurt a day and I think it’s been good for my poop
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ugh fuck a card i never used got auto-charged for a thing. thought i gave a diff card a year ago. missed the payment. aghhhhh
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Got my summer covid booster yay
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