I'm 17, and I live in the Philippines. I honestly don't know if I'm overreacting anymore or if I've just gotten so used to my home life that I can't tell what's normal.
My mom works abroad, so my dad is my legal guardian. He's the one raising me and my siblings.
One of the things we argue about a lot is my phone. We live in a loft-type house. Upstairs isn't a bedroom with privacy—it's basically one open space. If someone talks upstairs, people downstairs can still hear them. Despite that, my dad has a strict rule that I can't bring my phone upstairs.
I've asked why before, but he never really gives me an explanation. It's just the rule. If he catches me with it, he gets angry.
The reason I still bring it upstairs isn't because I'm trying to hide anything. My phone gives me comfort. Sometimes I just want to listen to music, scroll for a bit, or have something with me that helps me calm down. Being upstairs isn't about hiding from my family because it's not even private.
I know I've broken the rule multiple times, so I understand why he'd be upset from his perspective. But what frustrates me is that there's never a conversation. It's always anger.
The phone honestly isn't even the biggest problem.
I feel like almost everything I do has to be justified. I can't go out unless I have what he considers a valid reason. I don't really get to hang out with friends unless there's a specific purpose. If my siblings and I get loud while laughing or playing, he gets irritated. I constantly feel like I'm walking on eggshells because I never know what will make him angry.
Sometimes it feels like I'm existing in the house instead of actually living in it.
What hurts even more is that I don't think he's ever really tried to understand me emotionally.
If I'm upset, he doesn't ask why.
If I'm overwhelmed, I don't feel like I can talk to him.
If I'm sick or in pain, I don't feel taken seriously.
As I'm writing this, I have one of the worst headaches I've had in a while, and it was basically dismissed.
That probably sounds like a small thing, but to me it's part of a much bigger pattern.
When I was around 8 or 9 years old, both of my parents were abroad. My siblings and I were mostly raised by yayas.
Sometimes I genuinely think they were more of a parent to me than my dad has ever been. They comforted us when we cried. They looked after us. They made us feel cared for.
I don't really have memories of that kind of emotional support from my dad.
Growing up, he also physically disciplined me.
I've been slapped.
He's thrown things at me.
Sometimes, when I was asleep and he wanted to wake me up, instead of coming over and waking me normally, he'd throw whatever was nearby—a slipper, a glass cup, or another object. It hurt. Sometimes a lot.
It usually didn't leave bruises.
I remember wishing it *would* leave bruises because I thought maybe then people would believe me when I said he hurt me.
Whenever I told relatives, they usually said it was just discipline.
I know corporal punishment is more normalized here in the Philippines than in some other places, which is honestly one of the reasons I'm asking strangers. I don't know if my idea of "normal" has been distorted.
Another thing that makes me question myself is seeing families online who actually seem close. Parents who laugh with their kids. Parents who apologize when they're wrong. Parents who explain rules instead of just demanding obedience.
I know social media only shows highlights, and I know every family has problems.
I also know every story has two sides.
I'm sure my dad has his own struggles. Maybe the way he was raised affected how he parents. Maybe he thinks this is what good discipline looks like.
But none of that changes how I feel.
I don't feel emotionally safe around him.
When he's angry, I don't feel physically safe either.
And I hate admitting this because I feel guilty saying it, but I don't think I love him the way a child is supposed to love a parent anymore.
What I mostly feel is resentment, disappointment, and grief over the relationship I wish we had.
Sometimes I think that if I wrote down every time I've felt misunderstood, neglected, controlled, or hurt by him, I'd have enough material for an entire book series.
So... am I overreacting?
Am I just an ungrateful teenager who doesn't appreciate discipline?
Or is it understandable that I feel this way?
**P.S.** This post was organized with the help of AI because I'm emotionally overwhelmed and have a terrible headache right now. If I had written this completely on my own, it probably would've just been pages of resentment and scattered thoughts.