The kind of home a child grows up in plays a big role in their life. Studies have shown that children who come from functional homes, where they are allowed to exist without fighting for their lives at every waking minute, tend to turn out healthy and self-actualised. On the other hand, children who grow up in homes where dysfunctionality is a part of their daily routine have a lot of work cut out for them. Even if they manage to escape that environment at some point, they still have to dedicate several years of their lives to ensuring that they don’t turn out like their caregivers.
In this article, we spoke to five Nigerian women who shared their experiences of living in a dysfunctional home setting.
1. “Walking on eggshells was something we were all good at” — Ellie*, 25
Growing up, my father was someone I looked up to completely. From ages 3 to 8, he was my favourite person ever, and if I were destined not to live past 11, I would have probably died thinking he was the best gift to mankind, but unfortunately, I grew up, and my eyes cleared.
Going from someone who absolutely thought the world of her father to wishing him nothing but sorrow was such an interesting transition. At 13, I realised how emotionally and verbally abusive my father was to everyone in the house. He was a master at cutting people deeply with his words, and no one, not even my mother, was spared. With us, he would say the meanest things that would make even the strongest of people break down, but with my mum? He utilised both his words and silence.
If my siblings and I did something that he wasn’t satisfied with, my dad would take out his anger by pretending my mum didn’t exist for days, and even though my mum tried her best to hide it from us, we all knew. My dad made it obvious in the way he took accommodation of the guest room anytime he didn’t want to interact with her.
Walking on eggshells in the house was something we were all good at. We didn’t know the next thing my father would nitpick. Was it our grades? Was it our choice of clothing? Was it our hair? We didn’t want to know, and so, we all hid in our room every time he was at home. We didn’t like to have conversations with him, and whenever we wanted to request something, we automatically went to my mum because we were scared of what he would say to us. Just the thought of asking him for something always triggered my anxiety attacks.
Growing up has helped me realise how much my father messed me up in many ways as a person. I credit some of my negative attributes (the occasional malice, and the inability to refrain from saying mean words), and mental illnesses (the depression, and anxiety disorder). I’m hoping that one day, I will get access to the kind of therapy that will get rid of any lingering emotional attachment to my father.
2. “My home was never a safe space because of my parents” — Tife*, 21
Growing up in a house that is constantly on fire is such a jarring feeling. No one ever talks about the effect of having parents whose favourite way of expressing love to their children is hitting and screaming at them. Right from a young age, my home was never a safe space because of the kind of parents I was given. If it were just the belting and the screaming, maybe I would have turned out a bit alright. I would have the physical and mental scars, yes, but maybe life wouldn’t have been bad like it is right now.
Being my parents’ daughter has not only damaged my mental health, but it has also ruined my physical health. When I was in JSS3, puberty visited overnight, and I transitioned from the skinny and tiny child with no flesh on her to a girl with nice figures and proportions. It was the best thing that ever happened to me because I’d always wanted to be that kind of girl. However, my parents woke up and decided to ruin it for me. They cultivated this habit of calling me fat, and their constant thinkpieces about my body pushed me to starve myself for months till I became that skinny child again. I hate being skinny, but I have to be because if I’m anything else, my parents will make it a thing until I’m back to skinny again.
Over the years, my eating disorder got worse, and that’s because my parents are still not tired of making comments about my body. I have a horrible relationship with food, and I simply cannot eat when I’m sad. If I do, I would either feel weird or want to throw up.
Their constant abuse for two decades has completely altered my brain. Existing in the same space as them means that I don’t care about setting goals or huge life achievements. I’ve lost all my youth to my depression and eating disorder, and honestly, that is quite unfortunate. I am trying to do my best to move out of the house, but I need to be financially stable, which will take some time.
3. “I don’t have any memory of them being happily in love” — Deyola*, 23
While my mother and father are passable parents on a bad day, and lovely on a good day, they are absolutely bad for each other. It might seem weird to say this, but I am really glad that neither of them ended up with sane people because those innocent people do not deserve that. Unfortunately, the children who came from their union had to serve as collateral damage.
I do not remember much of my childhood, but one constant in our home from my childhood till now is my parents having random arguments that end up giving me a headache. Despite them choosing each other, I don’t think I have any memory of my parents being happily in love. If they do love and care for each other, they won’t make a habit out of setting each other off every time they are in each other’s vicinity. Even with the abuse I experienced at boarding school, it was the best thing to ever happen to me because it was less emotionally taxing than home.
At first, watching them fight always made me feel so distraught because I’ve seen fictional couples on TV and even some of my friends’ parents show love to each other. My parents have never shown any affection to each other. All they do is fight over anything and everything while their children try to watch television in peace. It’s basically a rinse-and-repeat situation, and I don’t understand why they haven’t carried each other to court to file for divorce.
Not only has my parents’ relationship made me prone to emotional outbursts, but I’ve also realised that I would never settle in a relationship that feels like a chore. I think it’s one of the reasons why I am so quick to leave whenever I notice any little problem in my personal relationships. I understand that this is not necessarily a good thing, and some problems could have been easily solved if I had just spoken up about how I felt.
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4. “Having a neglectful alcoholic for a father was certainly an experience” — Toun*, 26
For as long as I’ve known him, my father has always been an alcoholic. I don’t believe I have a memory of him being completely sober. Growing up, we had to watch our mother become the sole provider of the house because every naira our father saw, he used it to get alcohol. How we ate and how we went to school was none of his business. As long as he had money to spend at the beer parlour, he was completely fine. Even when my mum made threats to leave him, he never cared.
Having a neglectful alcoholic for a father was certainly an experience because everyone’s mood depended on him. If he was happy, we could all relax and have fun, but if he was angry, he made it everyone’s problem. He was erratic when he was angry, and we all made sure to avoid him whenever he was in that mood. I remember my sisters and me using animated movies as our form of escape whenever we didn’t want to think about our father’s actions too much.
Everyone in the street knew my father as the street drunkard, and we were the drunkard’s children. I didn’t realise how much my father affected us until my elder brother’s mouth started smelling like alcohol too, and my elder sisters had to dedicate their youth to financially support the house. It’s not a surprise that I became mad at God. Other children got to have fathers who cared about them and their future, but here was my father, who moved his entire family to his father’s house because he spent all his money on booze. None of us were able to obtain a proper tertiary education because of him, and sometimes I wonder what my siblings and I could have been if we had a father who actually made his children his top priority.
For my peace of mind, I have distanced myself from him so I can finally understand who I am outside of being a drunkard’s daughter.
5. “I realised that my parents were not exactly big fans of each other” — Amaka*, 24
When I turned 9, my dad moved to Abuja to pursue contracts while my mum, siblings, and I stayed in Lagos. For a while, it was just us, and everything was quite peaceful, but then I turned 12. After three years of our long-distance relationship with our father, we finally moved to Abuja, and that was when I realised that my parents were not exactly big fans of each other.
Their distaste for each other was evident in the way they didn’t absolutely care about having screaming matches in front of my siblings and me. Their fights ranged from my father’s infidelity to finances and some petty stuff that could have been resolved with proper communication. In my opinion, they should have just divorced and saved everyone the emotional trauma, but alas. Maybe it would have been a bit better if we, the children, hadn’t had front-row tickets to our parents’ dysfunctional dynamic against our will, but in this life, we can’t always have it all.
Even after my father’s death, my parents’ dynamic followed me into some of my personal relationships. I used to avoid conflict and was generally scared of intimacy, but having good friends and discovering fictional books where I could deeply relate to characters like myself helped me overcome it slowly.
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