We all have been accused of doing something we didn’t. I don’t know about you, but my childhood was filled with them.

I don’t know why it mattered to me so much. Maybe because they were my parents, and it felt like they had the most negative opinion about me without finding out the truth.

I was watching a video about a famous theme park in our country and it reminded me of when I was 16 and asked to go with my friends. I was told that one of our teacher would accompany us, and so that was what I told my parents.

What happened after was bizzare. I remembered my mom asked me if I’m sure that the teacher was going and I replied with “yeah” with no care in the world. I was grounded for a month after, and my parents did not tell me why. They were clearly angry at me, and there were a lot tension.

I remembered being perplexed, and hurt. They never mentioned anything throughout about why they were mad. I eventually found out from my teacher after the trip, that she wasn’t present.

I remembered how hurt I felt after. I never quite understand why wouldn’t my parents spoke to me or try to understand me. There was no trial, just punishment.

My entire teenage years replayed with similar theme the entire time. I’d be accused of doing something bad, when I did not. I’d be accused of everything that goes wrong in the house.

I remembered crying in the corner of my best friend’s room in the dark, because I felt like going home feels like a punishment. I hated home, I hated my house, I hated the way I’m looked at. It’s something my sister will never understand, because she was only a toddler. She had a very different set of parents. I’m glad that she didn’t experience the same parents I had.

Now that I’m a parent, I want to have more faith in my children than I had before. I don’t want to look at my children with a black tinted glasses.

I wasn’t a bad child, I always wondered why wouldn’t my parents believe in me.