An adoloscence rewind

In the recent days, I somehow find myself occupied with the thoughts of the road behind that has led me to where I am right now. As I summon those painful memories , my mind appraises the hurdles that have been a constant partner all along, personal battles that I was forced to fight and the innocence that was lost way before it had any inclination to leave. As the mind travels back into its accounts of hardships encountered, I still fail to gauge the single most core-shaking tragedy to have engulfed me?
Loss of a parent, I have experienced to be devastating but would that blow have been softened if I have had a more accomodating adolescence? My father's remarraige was a nightmare for everyone involved. As a result of this, althrough my adolescence, I have been haunted by the daemons of marital discordance and abuse that I now question were a by-product of a failed marraige? Adolescence- ah all those harmones that peaked and when one tended to question even everything that seemed rational, I was on the other hand fighting my inner grievances, trying to make sense out of every injustice encountered and trying to fit into a very dysfunctional family. My family for that part consisted of a very demented step mother- who seemed to have walked right out of a step mother's character in an old Bollywood movie- evil, insecure, psychotic and always on the look out for an opportunity to criticise, a father who was very content not to confront the reality, pretended to not have witnessed any injustice that rubbbed eyeballs and retreated into the past and would rather live there and not in the present- and my younger brother, my only real bonding in the family. Althrough my adolescence, until I left home for my undergrad, I was constantly judged, no matter what I achieved, I was told there were always more competent ways of doing so and when other parents proudly bragged about their children's achievements, my incompetency was being ballyhooed all across the neighborhood.
I remember my undergrad years in Warangal, living with my grand parents and my aunt were the happiest years of my adolescence. For once, I didnot have to go through the agonizing reality of returning back to home after school, for when I was in Hyderabad-living with my "family", I found comfort away from "home" - in school and in my teachers' empathy, and in my friends' support. Maybe that is the reason why my high school friends till date have remained very close to my heart- for in their understanding , I drew the comfort to go on with life and in my smile they were the ones to realise that there was always a glint of sadness. Year after year, I would win prizes for essay writing, elocution competitions and my parents were always a "No Show" at these events and my English teacher Bina Uberoi, would always stand next to me and cheer me on, when I went to collect the trophies. These memories , though with a hint of abondonment and lonliness, also helped me realise that there were friends and relatives always surrounding me and reaching out for the most part when my family failed me.
Criticism- something I still have a hard time dealing with. I grew up being criticised for everything that I did , by my step mother. As she mocked my ineptitude, my self esteem kept tumbling down the hill. Though I have pulled myself up and away from her influence, my first reaction to criticism even today is to protect myself - by blurting out something unpleasent and retreating myself into those adolescent years, where I could hide myself behind irrational rudeness and not really examine the source of the criticism and its validity. Though I tend to bring myself back into reality within a short while, I still loathe this reaction that I tend to render, everytime I cross paths with criticism. Even after all these years of independent living, a troubled part of my growing up still rears its ugly head once in a while, trying to balance out all the goodness that I have opened my eyes to at a latter stage .
I was a very disturbed teenager, wanting to hurt myself and my step-mother but today I donot feel that urge to hurt anyone. I have experienced love and fondness from other corners of life, in the arms of my grand-mother,in Yash's hug, in the home-cooked food of my aunts who would always make my favorite dishes whenever I visited them (Lachatta, Vijaya Lakshmi dodda) , in my cousin Bug's and my brother's concern , in Bhavana's laughter and in Sandeep's eyes. I was one of the few fortunate ones to have had people who cared for me, all around me - who after all helped me realise that the world is not as bad a place to live in as you would think it to be -especially if you were a part of a dysfunctional family too.
Weeks after the Virginia tech tragedy, I still keep wondering- had Cho also found someone to have trusted his fears with and found help in knowing that wanting to hurt and actually causing hurt are totally distinct feelings - the former , a momemtary reaction and the latter- a lifelong blemish, a lot of dreams would have taken shape into reality.