Sometimes, the greatest freedom we can find is the freedom to choose our own path, even when the road ahead is uncertain.
⏱Reading time: ~5 minutes
Watching from the Window
I used to watch from my bedroom window as my friends stayed out late, their laughter echoing through the warm night air. Meanwhile, I sat inside, curfewed and careful, bound by rules I didn’t choose.
Growing up as a girl in a South Asian household, my world was shaped by restrictions: no staying out late, no sleeveless tops, no saying no to chores — and no decision, big or small, without permission.
It wasn’t until much later that I realized this story wasn’t just about the rules I lived under — it was about the choices I made within them.
Living Under Watch
My life felt like it was constantly under surveillance.
It wasn’t until I moved out that I experienced what it truly meant to breathe — to live freely.
But this is not a story about blame.
This is a story about choices — mine.
I could have chosen rebellion, could have pushed back against everything they stood for.
Or, I could choose to stay, to listen, and to find my own way within the life they created for me.
I chose the latter.
Carrying the Weight of Obedience
But obedience didn’t mean I didn’t feel the weight of it.
By the time I was 19, resentment had quietly built up inside me.
I followed the rules, but inwardly, I felt caged — watching everyone around me move through life with a freedom I longed for, while I stayed rooted in a life that felt much smaller than my dreams.
Tasting Freedom for the First Time
When I finally left for university, it felt like I could breathe for the first time.
No curfews.
No permission slips for living my own life.
I could go wherever I wanted, wear whatever I wanted, and — most importantly — I could begin choosing for myself.
Freedom was beautiful.
But it was also unfamiliar — like learning to walk again after being still for too long.
Realizing I Could Trust Myself
For a while, I lived in contrast:
At home, I shrank myself to fit the restrictions.
At university, I stretched into the spaces freedom allowed.
And I realized something important —
I was not someone who misused freedom.
Even when no one was watching, I made good choices for myself.
That realization built a new kind of confidence in me — a quiet knowing that freedom would not break me; it would shape me.
Looking Back with Compassion
In that space of growth, I began to reflect on the anger I had carried toward my parents.
I saw how many adults around me still held onto resentment from their childhoods, dragging it through their entire lives.
I didn’t want to do the same.
So I backtracked.
I asked myself:
- Were my parents trying to restrict me — or protect me?
- Were they acting from fear — or from love?
- Were they simply doing the best they could with what they knew?
Watching my older brother’s struggles with substance abuse had terrified them.
Moving to a new country as immigrants, losing the familiar culture they had once known — all of it had left them grasping for ways to protect their children in an unfamiliar world.
Their love looked like rules, like walls — but it was love nonetheless.
Healing Our Relationship
As I softened my perspective, I saw them soften too.
I stopped putting them on a pedestal.
I began seeing them simply as human beings — flawed, doing their best, sometimes failing, but always trying.
Slowly, our relationship began to heal.
Where I Stand Today
Now, in my 30s, as I reflect back, I realize just how far I have come.
Today, I make my own decisions with confidence.
I have traveled to the places I once only dreamed of — even taken a solo trip that once would have seemed impossible.
And perhaps most importantly, I have healed not just my relationship with my parents, but also my relationship with myself.
Healing is an ongoing journey — one I am willing to continue walking, with patience and openness.
If I hadn’t chosen healing, I would still be waiting for someone else to give me permission to live.
I would have carried that unhealed version of myself into every friendship, every partnership, every dream — unknowingly asking others to validate what I needed to claim for myself.
Today, I notice the old patterns sometimes — the urge to seek permission — but I also see how far I have come.
I see how much lighter my relationship with my parents feels.
I see them clearly now, not just as “parents,” but as human beings who did the best they could with what they knew.
And more than anything, I feel grateful — for the journey, for the growth, and for the freedom I finally found within myself.
Choosing Healing Over Holding On
Sometimes it feels like we don’t have choices — especially when we’re young and life seems decided for us.
But I truly believe we always have a choice.
Maybe not in our childhood, when the world around us shapes so much of who we are.
But in adulthood, the power shifts back into our hands.
We cannot change what happened to us.
We cannot rewrite the past.
But we can choose how we carry it.
We can choose to heal, to grow, and to move beyond the stories that once defined us.
Choosing healing is not always easy — it takes patience, courage, and compassion for ourselves and others.
But it is the kind of choice that frees us.
It’s the choice that opens the door to a life we build on our own terms — with love, with strength, and with hope.
In the end, healing is the greatest permission we can ever give ourselves.
