The tension in my relationship with my mother was palpable; while she pushed for excellence, it often felt like I was being stifled instead of nurtured.
For Eryl, literature was a discipline to master. For me, it became a battleground, a way to seek understanding and reclaim my voice amidst the turmoil.
Through poetry, I sought autonomy; however, Eryl’s insistence on correction and guidance made writing feel more like a battlefield for approval than a creative outlet.
The contradiction of being nurtured in an environment filled with books but simultaneously silenced at home left deep emotional scars, hindering my development as a writer.
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