MY UNFILTERED STORY
seen the 2 idea boards below in other session?
that was my thing. an insight drawn from myself, both as a daughter and a mom.
unresolved pain. unspoken apology.
yes, there was a reason behind my so-called rebellion, which people love to land opinions but few ask what went wrong.
unresolved pain. unspoken apology.
yes, there was a reason behind my so-called rebellion, which people love to land opinions but few ask what went wrong.
CCO of Publicis Groupe Vietnam recognized the pain underneath it.
i could tell from his face the moment i presented it; and later from how he reassured me he had tried to push it through.
but i didn't pass the microscope of other stakeholders.
too rebellious i guess.
i could tell from his face the moment i presented it; and later from how he reassured me he had tried to push it through.
but i didn't pass the microscope of other stakeholders.
too rebellious i guess.
but i did appreciate the effort to give it a shot and his suggestion for another alternative solution around the idea called "unbiased sorry".
till today Oct-25, after nearly 3 years away from the industry, i still feel the ache —
the same ache i felt the day i left Publicis Groupe in silence back in 2023.
the same ache i felt the day i left Publicis Groupe in silence back in 2023.
in early 2025, a brand did it.
not exactly the same execution, but built on the same insight that shook the market.
i found myself smirking in silence as i clicked “share.”
not exactly the same execution, but built on the same insight that shook the market.
i found myself smirking in silence as i clicked “share.”
ME AS A DAUGHTER
i came from a very traditional background where male figures were absent on both sides of the family.
my mom grew up without a father.
she blamed her mother — my grandma, for stopping her from following him to the U.S after their divorce; then for stopping her dream of becoming a math teacher; and probably many more times after.
my mom never continued her studies beyond high school and instead, fell in love with an emotionally unavailable man who himself also had grown up without a father.
she didn't yet know her whole life was about seeking love without ever learning to love herself.
she blamed her mother — my grandma, for stopping her from following him to the U.S after their divorce; then for stopping her dream of becoming a math teacher; and probably many more times after.
my mom never continued her studies beyond high school and instead, fell in love with an emotionally unavailable man who himself also had grown up without a father.
she didn't yet know her whole life was about seeking love without ever learning to love herself.
from that trauma bond, i was born.
unaccepted. unseen. unloved.
unaccepted. unseen. unloved.
that said, my mom was the strongest and the most talented woman i have ever known; and I am forever grateful to have inherited those qualities from her.
while my dad was… simply an emotionally unavailable man.
and there i was — witnessing her losing her light to external judgments, unfulfilling marriage and haunted past pain and eventually treating me the same way she was treated.
while my dad was… simply an emotionally unavailable man.
and there i was — witnessing her losing her light to external judgments, unfulfilling marriage and haunted past pain and eventually treating me the same way she was treated.
— rejected for scoring a 9/10 instead of a perfect 10.
— rejected for dyeing my hair red.
— rejected for loving language more than math.
— rejected for having sex at 18, when she found out.
— rejected for staying out late — 7 pm was already “too late”.
— rejected for having my own opinion. or maybe, simply, for existing.
— rejected for dyeing my hair red.
— rejected for loving language more than math.
— rejected for having sex at 18, when she found out.
— rejected for staying out late — 7 pm was already “too late”.
— rejected for having my own opinion. or maybe, simply, for existing.
as a teenager,
my dad dragged me to the door and kicked me out of the house with his feet in front of my siblings.
my mom trashed my name in front of relatives, went through my letters, read through my diary and humiliated me for having a crush with some random guy in my class.
my dad dragged me to the door and kicked me out of the house with his feet in front of my siblings.
my mom trashed my name in front of relatives, went through my letters, read through my diary and humiliated me for having a crush with some random guy in my class.
in my 20s,
my dad called me “slut” “hoe”, “trash” and every creative insult he could think of for his own daughter.
my mom called whenever she needed an emotional trash bin, but never once spent a minute truly listening to how i felt.
my dad called me “slut” “hoe”, “trash” and every creative insult he could think of for his own daughter.
my mom called whenever she needed an emotional trash bin, but never once spent a minute truly listening to how i felt.
in my 30s,
my dad acted as if he had forgotten everything, pretending i had turned out fine without him.
my mom, meanwhile, collected new son and daughter — anyone willing to call her “mom” — but rarely asked her own daughter, who had left home since 23 years old how she had survived without her.
my dad acted as if he had forgotten everything, pretending i had turned out fine without him.
my mom, meanwhile, collected new son and daughter — anyone willing to call her “mom” — but rarely asked her own daughter, who had left home since 23 years old how she had survived without her.
they both acted as if my forgiveness was obvious.
but the apology i have been waiting my entire youth remains unspoken.
but the apology i have been waiting my entire youth remains unspoken.
ME AS A MOM
i didn't know how to be a mom to begin with.
all i ever knew was i fell in love with an abusive man, or with the illusion that he was only abusive when he drank and i didn't want to go back to the hell i was with my parent.
then, i got pregnant.
i was happy.
he accepted the baby — and acted as it was a mercy.
so did his family, without knowing about the abuse till 10 years later.
my mom cut the phone, called back to ask for a wedding i didn't care about and gladly, it never happened — then shamed me with my relatives that i deserved it as no one would marry a girl who lived with her BF without marriage.
all i ever knew was i fell in love with an abusive man, or with the illusion that he was only abusive when he drank and i didn't want to go back to the hell i was with my parent.
then, i got pregnant.
i was happy.
he accepted the baby — and acted as it was a mercy.
so did his family, without knowing about the abuse till 10 years later.
my mom cut the phone, called back to ask for a wedding i didn't care about and gladly, it never happened — then shamed me with my relatives that i deserved it as no one would marry a girl who lived with her BF without marriage.
i was hopeful he might treat me right.
he didn't.
my pregnancy was far from picture-perfect, because:
— was fists.
— was being punched, insulted, had my hair pulled and dragged around the apartment.
— was his feet against my head, my belly against the wall trying to protect the little life inside while the monster raged.
— was sleepless nights, as i never knew what would happen to me when the drunk beast came home: to be beaten or to be raped?
he didn't.
my pregnancy was far from picture-perfect, because:
— was fists.
— was being punched, insulted, had my hair pulled and dragged around the apartment.
— was his feet against my head, my belly against the wall trying to protect the little life inside while the monster raged.
— was sleepless nights, as i never knew what would happen to me when the drunk beast came home: to be beaten or to be raped?
from that, i learnt how to breathe in silence, how to walk on eggshell, how to whisper to the tiny heartbeat inside:
one day, we would be free.
we did.
one day, we would be free.
we did.
the violence stopped the moment my daughter arrived.
the emotional abuse eased as i began to earn a little more.
the relationship ended 6 years later, when my income grew closer to his — but broke the heart of my little angel as she never learnt the truth about him.
the emotional abuse eased as i began to earn a little more.
the relationship ended 6 years later, when my income grew closer to his — but broke the heart of my little angel as she never learnt the truth about him.
co-parenting with him was nothing but a joke.
still, i managed to reach a fair deal — letting her live with him to keep her nationality, financial stability and access for French education per her request, while keeping a watchful eye for any potential abuse.
still, i managed to reach a fair deal — letting her live with him to keep her nationality, financial stability and access for French education per her request, while keeping a watchful eye for any potential abuse.
i didn’t realize that the trauma i carried from my childhood had repeated itself with the father of my daughter.
and i was unconsciously treating her the same way i was treated during Covid-19. an emotionally distant mom.
and i was unconsciously treating her the same way i was treated during Covid-19. an emotionally distant mom.
psychologists defined it as a recurring trauma cycle.
i was not yet able to break out of that pattern — not until 4 years later, when it happened again with another BF who held a knife to my face.
i was not yet able to break out of that pattern — not until 4 years later, when it happened again with another BF who held a knife to my face.
i know i owe my daughter an apology.
but i never had the courage to speak it until i could no longer hold her tight.
but i never had the courage to speak it until i could no longer hold her tight.
i wonder why speaking my truth and granting myself some grace for what i went through makes me “too much” by society's norms?
am I meant to silence myself and bend to whatever the status quo expects?
NO.
