Heredity and Environment: Which Force Made Me Who I Am?

It is not just heredity, nor is it just environment, that determines my qualities.
It seems that these two, like skilled craftsmen working in collaboration, have kneaded and molded this person called 'me' into the form I am today.
The blueprint I was born with and the stage setting in which I was raised.
I stand here today, influenced by both.

✅ When I feel the influence of heredity

Sometimes, I become aware of the existence of an irresistible 'something' residing within my own body.
Yes, it is a long, grand message from my ancestors, known as heredity.

For example, genetically, I cannot drink alcohol at all.
When I was young, if I took even a single sip at a drinking party as I was urged to, my heart would beat like a warning bell, and my face would turn as red as if a fire had broken out.
I was always on the outside looking in.
I would watch my friends happily clinking glasses and becoming talkative, while I quietly gripped a glass of oolong tea.

Considering my father, this 'inability to drink' feels like a truly strange twist of fate.
My father was an alcoholic.
From the time I could remember, there was always a glass in his hand, and its contents dictated his mood and the climate of our home.

Even though my father craved alcohol so intensely, it seems I was born without the enzymes to break it down.
While this inability to drink made me feel out of place at social gatherings when I was young, for someone like me who knew what my father was like, it felt more like a gift from heaven.

What would have happened if I had been born with the same high tolerance for alcohol as my father?
Thinking about that still sends a chill down my spine today.
Perhaps the gene that makes me 'unable to drink' was a safety device quietly installed by God to lead me down a different path than my father.

Come to think of it, Graves' disease, which caused me suffering for many years, is also said to be related to genetic predisposition.
My body began to attack itself, regardless of my own will.
This, too, must be part of the blueprint I was born with, not something I chose.

✅ Thinking about the environment I passed through

Now, the land upon which one builds a house based on that blueprint is the 'environment'.
Unfortunately, the land where I grew up did not have very good ground.

A home where my father's alcohol and violence were daily occurrences.
I thought that was 'normal'.
I believed that this was the only type of family that existed in the world.
The spell was broken when I met my wife.
I still cannot forget the shock I felt when I saw her joking around with her father as if they were friends.
It was like being struck by lightning; it was the moment I first realized, 'My family is not right.'

That distorted environment kept a weight called 'the difficulty of living' tied to my heart for a long time.
As expected, overwork triggered it, my heart screamed, and I developed depression and panic disorder.
In particular, the terror of panic disorder, where I never knew when I would be unable to breathe, was truly a living hell.

However, life is interesting.
This rock-bottom experience forced me to re-examine my way of life and led me into the world of psychology and counseling.
The worst 'environment' of illness ended up being the catalyst that saved me.

And perhaps the biggest environmental change in my life was becoming a 'working househusband'.
My wife, who was chasing her dreams in her career, was transferred to a post away from home, and for over ten years, I took on the sole responsibility for housework, childcare, and my own work.
My parents were already gone, and there was no one to rely on. Then, a new role—caring for my mother-in-law—popped up as well.
It was centered around preparing meals, but it was the moment another character was added to my life's story.

But you know what?
Making breakfast, sending the kids off, bowing my head at the office, worrying about dinner menus, and folding laundry.
Those dizzying days gradually set my heart free.
I felt as though I had been released from the societal curse that 'men should be this way,' and I became free from my father, from illness, and from everything else.
A salesman standing in the kitchen, a designer in an apron.
Every one of those titles was undeniably me.

✅ Summary

In the end, which force made me who I am: heredity or environment?

The answer is likely 'both,' and also 'neither'.
The gene that prevents me from drinking alcohol became the catalyst for walking a different path than my father, and a harsh home environment can break a heart, but it can also raise a person who understands the pain of others.

What matters is not just the cards you are dealt (heredity) and the stage you are given (environment), but the decision you make about what kind of story you will weave yourself, isn't it?

Those stormy days of being a sole-charge househusband are already five years in the past.
My wife commutes to work from here every day, and I occasionally hear from my daughter who started living alone in Saitama.
My adult son is quietly living his own life.
The actors who once gathered around our dining table have moved on to their own new stages, and the house has become a little more spacious.

In such a quiet living room, the only one monopolizing my lap is the black cat, the most laid-back of my three cats.
Well, for me right now, this sense of distance—neither too close nor too far—might actually be just right.

The picture I painted while struggling with the two masters of heredity and environment turned out not to be a lively group photo of my whole family, but this peaceful self-portrait of me gently stroking the black cat's back as time drifts by.
I think it's not bad at all; it has become a work with quite a bit of character.

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