My Burning House

."For when you grow up in a burning house, you think the whole world is ablaze too," -Sara Anam

Yes, when you grow up in a burning house, you believe the entire world is on fire, and you learn to live with the heat. The crackle of flames becomes background noise. You assume this is how life is meant to feel. You think everyone must be living in the same chaos, surrounded by the same fire.

Every morning, you wake up bracing yourself for the heat. It feels like an invisible weight pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You learn to move quickly, to dodge the sparks that always seem to fall around you. Your heart races with the constant fear that they’ll touch your skin and burn you.

I don’t remember much of my childhood. But growing up, I wasn’t raised in what people would openly call an abusive home. My parents were there doing what i believe their best to give us love in their own way. But even in a seemingly stable environment, there were cracks that ran deep beneath the surface, cracks that caused permanent damage.

My parents didn't really show affection toward each other (or perhaps they simply didn’t show it in front of us). There was constant fighting and criticism from both side : subtle, yet relentless. At the time, I didn’t recognize it as harmful. But it shaped how I saw myself, relationships, and the world. I thought this was just how families worked: distant, critical, always teetering on the edge of conflict.

As I grew older, the hatred intensified. I felt pulled in two directions, never knowing which side was the right one to choose. There was no peace, no stability. The emotional turbulence I grew up with didn’t fade, it magnified. That toxic cycle of distance and harshness became the foundation of how I understood relationships, leading me into patterns I didn’t even realize I was repeating.

I spent most of my 20s resenting myself for failing to put out the fire, for not saving everyone as if it were my responsibility to fix it all. I forgot to save myself. And when I finally tried, the fire didn’t leave. It became a ghost, following me everywhere. I see flames where others see light. I feel heat even when the breeze is cool. The fire became part of me, convincing me the whole world was burning, because that’s all I had ever known.

But now i know that the world is big, even though there are fires, there are also oceans, mountains, and skies. There are places of quiet, moments of softness, and people who will help me heal and I am learning to go there. The flames may have shaped me, but they didn’t burn me. There is more to this world than fire, and I am walking toward it.

part 2 : What the Fire Left Behind: The Angry Daughter