The Lesson Dad Never Meant to Teach

It’s been years since my dad died.

Ever since the COVID lockdown, I’ve been reflecting on my relationship with Dad.

Dad shaped me in many ways.  He taught me wonderful values:
Be truthful.
Be respectful.
Be grateful.

Those lessons have served me well.

But not everything he gave me was a gift. Some of it was a wound.

He hurt me.  

He probably didn’t know a better way to help me.  And he might never have realized the impact of his words on me.

When I was 7, while I was struggling with math, Dad hovered.  He was frustrated.

Suddenly, he yanked my ear and shouted,

“Yuki, you’re stupid!”

At 7 years old, I didn’t know how to challenge that statement.

After all, Dad knew everything.  Dad said so.  It must be true.

For years, “stupid” rented space in my head without paying any rent.

And it started a vicious cycle.

Self-doubt whispered,
“I’m not good enough.”

To protect me from failure, self-doubt came up with a brilliant plan:

“If I’m perfect, I’ll be safe.”

So, I set high standards.

From the outside, it looked ambitious.

On the inside, it was fear disguising as excellence.

Perfectionism led me to play it safe.

Avoid mistakes.
Avoid risks.
Avoid anything that might expose my flaws.

Then, I missed chances to grow and discover what I am capable of.

And every missed opportunity seemed to confirm the original belief:

“See?  I’m not good enough.”

Around and around I went.

The way out was courage.

Courage says,

“I don’t know how this will turn out, but let me try anyway.”

Self-doubt says,
“I’m not good enough.”

Perfectionism says,
“Be flawless.”

Playing safe says,
“Don’t try.”

Growth begins when you question all 3.

Dad taught me to be truthful.

Years later, that lesson helped me see that “You’re stupid” was never the truth.

That was the lesson Dad never meant to teach.