I am an emotional eater. I realized this last night after stuffing my face. Considering I joined a bootcamp workout, you would think I'd curtail bad eating habits and try to start fresh. Instead, I went into self-sabotage mode and ate a peanut-butter chocolate cupcake, 15 pieces of chips (baked is better I suppose), broccoli, cauliflower, and baby carrots dipped in homemade salsa and hummus, and then some cereal. I also had a cup of blueberries and blackberries.
For some reason, even after eating all these supposedly nutritious foods--- no longer nutritious because of their quantity in my stomach -- I felt unfulfilled. Scratch that, I felt hungry. Or maybe even empty. I craved crunchiness, so I had gone for the chips. Then I needed sweetness to balance out the salty, so I went for the fruits. Afterwards, I wanted some healthy, so I thought to compensate by going for the fruits. No matter what I ate, however, it just didn't seem enough. In between all of the different things I was eating, I was also drinking copious amounts of water-- an attempt to keep myself hydrated after such an intense work out during the day.
This is not my first attempt to try and be healthy. I have already been on a month-long "portion control" plan, trying to decrease my quantity of food. But I feel disappointed by the results and so, I went into sabotage mode. Not consciously, probably. But my mood certainly set the stage for eating like it was my last day on earth.
Enchanted forest
Fall decoration @ Bellagio Hotel, Las Vegas, October 2010
Friday, January 27, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Disgust
I feel disgusted by B.
Having been broken-up for exactly 7 months (as of yesterday-- wow!), I don't understand why he keeps trying to be connected with me. In as many social networking sites as possible, he's been showing up in my email inbox, with headings that say "_____ wants to be in your circle!" Whether it's a professional networking site or just a personal group, like google plus, he's been adamant about pushing his way in. Much like before, he is not taking "no" for an answer and he is imposing himself into my life, my space.
This feeling is similar to that of being... raped. I don't mean to offend anyone who actually has been a survivor and a victim of physical rape. But I feel so invaded, so powerless, so targeted, and so disgusted. I feel disgusted at him and at myself for having been with him and continuing to be something he wants in his life.
This time around, I am different. I will not succumb to him because he wants it. In the past, when I have said "no no no no no", he had ignored me altogether and continued to do what pleases him. When I have said "let's break up", he will act like I never said it and come back the next day all smiles. When I have caught him cheating with other women, he will also act like it never happened. When we have gotten into huge blow-out fights, he will ask me 1) if I'm upset and 2) what is wrong? -- because he hasn't got a clue as to why I'm not super happy. That's the manipulative thing about B. Does he really not know? Or does he feign not-knowing so he can masquerade happiness in his own life-- and impose that fakeness into mine?
In truth, I tried to break up with him several times before officially cutting ties 7 months ago. In most of the times that we got back together-- it wasn't necessarily because I wanted to be together. It was because he wouldn't let go of me, and he wouldn't let me live my life until he was back in it. I felt so stuck. I felt so so trapped. My "no"s have never meant anything to him, and I feel a familiar sense of sickness in my stomach when he does the same thing today--- except in cyberspace.
My greatest fear is that he will show up at my door one day. He will have a genuine, heartfelt smile plastered on his face, and he will run up to me arms wide open being ever so happy to see me. He will want to touch, hug, and tell me how great it is to see me. I know with 100000% certainty he will act like nothing has happened and that I haven't been so severely damaged by him and our ex-relationship. And as for my emotional responses? I will freeze. I will want to squeeze into myself so that I am not touched by him. I will feel dirty and disgusted by him. I will also feel invalidated for all the heartache and resentment I've experienced throughout the relationship-- because his avoidance of it will be his way of saying that my pain didn't happen. His avoidance altogether is his way of erasing a history that has been so salient during the past 2 years of my life.
The thought of this scenario makes my skin crawl. As I am typing, my stomach is tightening up and my heart is pounding faster and louder. I feel an intense warmth spreading throughout my abdomen-- a very powerful sense of... anger, maybe? frustration? Nono, it's anger alright. I want to shove him far far away from me, whether it's in cyberspace or in real life. I want to never see him again, never hear him again, never have to co-exist in the same place as him. My anger has come alive, after 2 years of being with a womanizer. My anger, as of recently, is finally here.
Having been broken-up for exactly 7 months (as of yesterday-- wow!), I don't understand why he keeps trying to be connected with me. In as many social networking sites as possible, he's been showing up in my email inbox, with headings that say "_____ wants to be in your circle!" Whether it's a professional networking site or just a personal group, like google plus, he's been adamant about pushing his way in. Much like before, he is not taking "no" for an answer and he is imposing himself into my life, my space.
This feeling is similar to that of being... raped. I don't mean to offend anyone who actually has been a survivor and a victim of physical rape. But I feel so invaded, so powerless, so targeted, and so disgusted. I feel disgusted at him and at myself for having been with him and continuing to be something he wants in his life.
This time around, I am different. I will not succumb to him because he wants it. In the past, when I have said "no no no no no", he had ignored me altogether and continued to do what pleases him. When I have said "let's break up", he will act like I never said it and come back the next day all smiles. When I have caught him cheating with other women, he will also act like it never happened. When we have gotten into huge blow-out fights, he will ask me 1) if I'm upset and 2) what is wrong? -- because he hasn't got a clue as to why I'm not super happy. That's the manipulative thing about B. Does he really not know? Or does he feign not-knowing so he can masquerade happiness in his own life-- and impose that fakeness into mine?
In truth, I tried to break up with him several times before officially cutting ties 7 months ago. In most of the times that we got back together-- it wasn't necessarily because I wanted to be together. It was because he wouldn't let go of me, and he wouldn't let me live my life until he was back in it. I felt so stuck. I felt so so trapped. My "no"s have never meant anything to him, and I feel a familiar sense of sickness in my stomach when he does the same thing today--- except in cyberspace.
My greatest fear is that he will show up at my door one day. He will have a genuine, heartfelt smile plastered on his face, and he will run up to me arms wide open being ever so happy to see me. He will want to touch, hug, and tell me how great it is to see me. I know with 100000% certainty he will act like nothing has happened and that I haven't been so severely damaged by him and our ex-relationship. And as for my emotional responses? I will freeze. I will want to squeeze into myself so that I am not touched by him. I will feel dirty and disgusted by him. I will also feel invalidated for all the heartache and resentment I've experienced throughout the relationship-- because his avoidance of it will be his way of saying that my pain didn't happen. His avoidance altogether is his way of erasing a history that has been so salient during the past 2 years of my life.
The thought of this scenario makes my skin crawl. As I am typing, my stomach is tightening up and my heart is pounding faster and louder. I feel an intense warmth spreading throughout my abdomen-- a very powerful sense of... anger, maybe? frustration? Nono, it's anger alright. I want to shove him far far away from me, whether it's in cyberspace or in real life. I want to never see him again, never hear him again, never have to co-exist in the same place as him. My anger has come alive, after 2 years of being with a womanizer. My anger, as of recently, is finally here.
Short-term future plans
I am going through an existential crisis. I'm past my quarter-life crisis, but this might as well be it. Having finished all my interviews for clinical internship, I am now faced with ranking each site and waiting to see if I will "match" with one of them. Exactly half of my sites are near home, and the other half is spread throughout the country. Depending on where I go-- even if it is just for a year-- I feel that my decision-making process is an existential and spiritual process towards self-exploration.
The people who understand me understand the magnitude of this decision. Going home for me means many things. It means facing my fears of being in my hometown (Robert-less). It also means confronting my assumptions that being home will mean reconciliation with Robert. These last 2 sentences were pretty contradictory so I'll explain. I always thought that Robert will "one day" give me some sort of explanation about what happened. I envisioned getting-back together afterwards (because in my head, Robert can do no wrong) and living happily ever after. As such, my entire premise for going back to my home state is, in many ways, for Robert. Nono, let me rephrase, it's to pick up my life back with Robert. I hate to admit it, but I harbor guilt and responsibility for our breakup. I wonder if I never left home for college, if we would still be together. I wonder if I am responsible for creating that emotional distance because I was certainly 100% culpable for the physical distance. And if I am responsible for something breaking, then aren't I equally responsible for the fixing?
Going home means repentance, in many ways. It means I can undo what I think I've done. But what have I done? I don't entirely know why Robert and I broke up, so it is illogical to think I can fix something that I don't understand. So, the conflicting truth is that going home means having to face being useless and powerless in fixing the situation. And going home means having to re-establish a life and an identity separate from the hopes of "what-if" with Robert.
While my decision lasts only one year, I still feel like it has serious long-term implications on my life. I don't care as much about professional development. That seems to come more easily for me. What's challenging is my personal life! I thought that by this time, I would have met my soulmate! I'm supposed to be committed in a long-term relationship! I should have some idea of where I'm going to permanently reside one day... shouldn't I?
Alas, I feel like a nomad-- which I really am, because no place is entirely my home. My childhood home is on one side of the country. My college years which were my first years of living away from family are on the opposite side of the country. For the last half of the decade, I've been somewhere in-between the two places, equally far away from both sides, yet feeling equally content here as I would be anywhere.
What does the future hold for me? And where will my future be? I thought I would have someone make that decision for me. The coward in me has assumed that my parents would want me to be closer to them. I also envisioned a long-term husband to have some preference as well! But neither are the case, and I am as free as a bird! What a privilege! What a honor! What loneliness, too.
The people who understand me understand the magnitude of this decision. Going home for me means many things. It means facing my fears of being in my hometown (Robert-less). It also means confronting my assumptions that being home will mean reconciliation with Robert. These last 2 sentences were pretty contradictory so I'll explain. I always thought that Robert will "one day" give me some sort of explanation about what happened. I envisioned getting-back together afterwards (because in my head, Robert can do no wrong) and living happily ever after. As such, my entire premise for going back to my home state is, in many ways, for Robert. Nono, let me rephrase, it's to pick up my life back with Robert. I hate to admit it, but I harbor guilt and responsibility for our breakup. I wonder if I never left home for college, if we would still be together. I wonder if I am responsible for creating that emotional distance because I was certainly 100% culpable for the physical distance. And if I am responsible for something breaking, then aren't I equally responsible for the fixing?
Going home means repentance, in many ways. It means I can undo what I think I've done. But what have I done? I don't entirely know why Robert and I broke up, so it is illogical to think I can fix something that I don't understand. So, the conflicting truth is that going home means having to face being useless and powerless in fixing the situation. And going home means having to re-establish a life and an identity separate from the hopes of "what-if" with Robert.
While my decision lasts only one year, I still feel like it has serious long-term implications on my life. I don't care as much about professional development. That seems to come more easily for me. What's challenging is my personal life! I thought that by this time, I would have met my soulmate! I'm supposed to be committed in a long-term relationship! I should have some idea of where I'm going to permanently reside one day... shouldn't I?
Alas, I feel like a nomad-- which I really am, because no place is entirely my home. My childhood home is on one side of the country. My college years which were my first years of living away from family are on the opposite side of the country. For the last half of the decade, I've been somewhere in-between the two places, equally far away from both sides, yet feeling equally content here as I would be anywhere.
What does the future hold for me? And where will my future be? I thought I would have someone make that decision for me. The coward in me has assumed that my parents would want me to be closer to them. I also envisioned a long-term husband to have some preference as well! But neither are the case, and I am as free as a bird! What a privilege! What a honor! What loneliness, too.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Unhealthy relationships
3 weeks later, I'm right back to my apartment-- away from family, away from my hometown.
I have to admit, I had the best 3 weeks ever. EVER. That is why I didn't update. I have so much to write, so much to reflect on, and so much to share. I'll go into detail with each one of those updates, but for now, I just want to jot them down so I can review them later.
1) Learned about Robert and how he's doing these days (from his friend)
2) Hung out with Robert's friends and was kind of able to enjoy their company-- even though ultimately, they will refrain from giving me any information about him
3) Realized I had my own friends even if they are people I haven't talked to in a long long long time.
4) Began to feel comfortable about living in my hometown (more permanently)
5) Recognized that my perspective towards job interviews were similar to how I am drawn to unhealthy relationships
... And 6) I am starting to realize that across all of my interviews, there is the very real possibility that I will NOT be returning to my hometown, to my home city, to my family, and to... Robert. In my head, I always thought that after 4 years of college away from home, and an additional 6 years of college in my doctoral training, that I would go back home to focus on my love life with Robert. I thought that after all this schooling, I would return to what life was like beforehand. I thought Robert would eventually mature and realize that he me. And I thought that we would figure life out after that. I thought it would be a "we" after schooling, but so much of what I assumed was... untrue. My assumptions have been just that! And that is terrifying.
I have to admit, I had the best 3 weeks ever. EVER. That is why I didn't update. I have so much to write, so much to reflect on, and so much to share. I'll go into detail with each one of those updates, but for now, I just want to jot them down so I can review them later.
1) Learned about Robert and how he's doing these days (from his friend)
2) Hung out with Robert's friends and was kind of able to enjoy their company-- even though ultimately, they will refrain from giving me any information about him
3) Realized I had my own friends even if they are people I haven't talked to in a long long long time.
4) Began to feel comfortable about living in my hometown (more permanently)
5) Recognized that my perspective towards job interviews were similar to how I am drawn to unhealthy relationships
... And 6) I am starting to realize that across all of my interviews, there is the very real possibility that I will NOT be returning to my hometown, to my home city, to my family, and to... Robert. In my head, I always thought that after 4 years of college away from home, and an additional 6 years of college in my doctoral training, that I would go back home to focus on my love life with Robert. I thought that after all this schooling, I would return to what life was like beforehand. I thought Robert would eventually mature and realize that he me. And I thought that we would figure life out after that. I thought it would be a "we" after schooling, but so much of what I assumed was... untrue. My assumptions have been just that! And that is terrifying.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Re-experiencing friendships
I ended up going out with friends the other night-- friends who know my first love. It was fine, actually. It was fun, surprisingly! I made a purposeful effort not to a) think about Robert or to even b) associate those friends with Robert. For the first time, I simply enjoyed going out with these girls, and I actually allowed myself to think of them as being more than just Robert's friends. Suddenly, they became more multidimensional-- their identities, their experiences, their jokes, etc. The world seemed more multidimensional too, and it wasn't only about relationships and heartbreak anymore. It was about their life experiences, job experiences, our dynamics in-the-moment, and our collective memories of high school and life ever since. I think I can like them now... now that they are considered to be so much more than just my ex's friends.
Family of Origin Issues
Stability. I've always lived without it. I always thought that when I meet the love of my life, then I'll have it. I imagined that once I'm in a relationship, he (whoever he is) will give me that much-needed stability I've been craving in my life.
They say dogs need rules, boundaries, and limitations. When pet-owners are inconsistent in their disciplining or in their training or even in their energies, dogs can sense the instability, and they will act-out. I've actually heard that humans are the only species that follow unstable pack leaders. Unlike us, animals can sense strength (or lackthereof) in one another; and they will choose to follow only that one who provides stability and security.
In my family-of-origin life, I have never had stability. In fact, I just had a very intimate talk with my mom about relationships, love, sex, and womanhood (another entry will definitely need to be written about that), and it turns out that she's never experienced stability either. If I can trace my insecurities and fears to the original point, I know that my fears come from my mom leaving me. I lived in fear mostly my whole life-- terrified that my mom would leave me and I would be stuck with my dad. My relationship with my dad has improved significantly over the past few years. On the surface, we are a happy, close-knit family, and in many ways, we are now. Kind of. But my childhood years were more overtly unhappy, and consistently unpredictable and fear-provoking. I have attributed that mostly to my mom's constant threats of divorce and taking my brother with her. I lived in perpetual fear that she would have abandoned me and left me with my dad.
In my talk with my mom tonight, she talked about her experience as a victim rather than the person who was always with the power of leaving. She talked about her experience of being a woman in an emotionally-unfulfilling marriage. She talked about losing her sense of self in her marriage and the sacrifices she has made since the beginning. She sacrificed herself in a marriage that even at the beginning, she knew wouldn't be good. But she believed that she loved him "more", so she decided to suffer and to go through with it.
Suffer. What a stupid, stupid word. Why did we ever decide to glorify that word as though it were badge of honor? In some cultures, and I'll talk specifically about the culture of traditional women as well as some East Asian cultures and some religious cultures, suffering is considered to be a virtue, and one that will give you extra credit in your next life. The mentality is that suffering will lead to better outcomes later, either for yourself or for someone else important to you.
The more I learn about suffering, the more I see its deleterious effects. My mom married someone that was incompatible with her. She felt suffocated from the irreconciliable differences but decided to "suffer"-- all the while vowing to divorce my dad one day so that she could leave one day and live her life her way. And while she thinks she's done something noble -- whether it's for my brother and I, or for the sanctity of marriage-- her suffering has made her a victim. And by default, it has affected the whole family too. I am completely messed up because of our family dynamic, and my brother surely is affected too.
Because of this suffering, because of this marriage, I have always felt stuck in the middle between everyone, always mediating everyone's fights, always trying to keep things as calm as possible in the fear that this family will be broken apart. I lived in fear my entire life, scared that my mom would leave, and that my family will be ripped to pieces. I felt even more scared for me, thinking my mom would leave me with my dad, and that I would never see her or my brother again. I lived in fear of my dad for so many reasons. The most basic ones because that he is just so different from all of us: his beliefs, his way of doing things, his values, etc. etc.
As I have grown older, I continue to be in relationships that are unstable and unpredictable. I stay with men who don't love me (but I can't let go of because they're like my dad and I feel guilty wanting to leave him too). In those same romantic relationships, I fear that I will be left because I have grown up being so scared about being abandoned by the one adult who was nurtured me. I felt she was my life raft in a deadly waterfall and I gripped onto her for dear life. It's different now that I'm an adult. As a parentified child who mediates my parents' fights (as well as their triangle disputes with my brother), I grow more and more protective of each of them. I am now concerned for them, and it's not just based on me losing my family. I feel like I need to take care of them, watch out for them, and be there for them. I fear for my dad that my mom will leave him one day. I fear for my mom what she would do if she were to ever leave. She does not have her own career or her income. She also has lost her identity in her marriage and in our family. As I talked with my mom tonight, she told me about the emotional emptiness she's experienced even when she got married. She talked about putting all her love, energy, attention, focus on the family. She talked about how she put every bit of herself into me and my brother and that we are her everything. Should my parents ever separate someday, even in their older age, what would that mean for my brother and me? How do we juggle taking care of both parents when they have done everything for us but are not able to co-exist together? How do you repay someone who dedicated her life entirely to you because she was so devoid of what she needed in her marriage?
My parents currently live apart right now for business reasons. My dad is abroad because his work requires him to be. When he retires one day, my mom and dad will likely reunite and live together again. What will that be like, we all wonder? My mom dreads the day that happens which I hadn't known. Apparently she doesn't want to even think of that day, and she does not know what the future holds for her and my dad. What does that mean, I asked? To which my mom responded with an answer I subconsciously knew. It all depends on the kids-- meaning me and my brother. Because my mom gave everything to this family, she will depend entirely on us. My mom's identity is rooted in us. Her livelihood rests in us. Her future depends on us. I already knew that before she even said it. I know that if she ever chooses to leave one day, she will rely on us 110% to give her a sense of stability, identity, and belongingness.
You see, when we were in high school, my brother and I would take-turns going out and staying home. We lived with just my mom and it felt selfish to leave her home alone when she would never do that to us. As an adult, because I have moved far away now, I don't actually have to face this all the time, but my brother does. I know he feels guilty when he goes out. For someone in his mid 20s, going out feels wrong because I'm sure he doesn't want to abandon my mom to leave her alone at home. My brother and I both have a strong sense of responsibility for my mom. We both know what it's like to feel unstable, and we both fear that she will feel unstable if we weren't home. And because I'm a little closer to my dad, I worry for my dad too. I wonder if he feels alone and what would happen should my mom ever leave him. What will become of him and his identity? He works so hard for us, for the family. What would losing her do to him?
As for my own issues in relationships I am slowly recognizing that my break-ups hit me hard because they always signify the end of my hope for stability. My original family doesn't have much stability, so I anticipated my future family to give me that. I projected all of my hopes and expectations onto my partner. I lost my identity in each relationship so that I could just blend in, adapt, and be accepted into whatever life my partner has. No wonder my relationships implode. If I were already married, I expect my life would be like my mom's. I would have no identity. I would be emotionally lonely and alone. I would have to invest myself in something else to compensate for the absence of emotional connection, the lack of stability once again.
I firmly believe now and today that suffering is unnecessary, and even worse, detrimental to yourself and your future generations. Is it my fault that I've tried so hard to keep my parents together over the years? Do I contribute to the dysfunction that affects my family collectively but also individually? Throughout my life, there has been nothing more scary than the thought of my family breaking up. As I reflect on this idea more rationally and in a less-detached manner, however, I can't help but wonder... what if they had divorced one another and gone on to find better partners for themselves? What if a divorce meant they would be happier? More fulfilled with their lives? What if separating meant that my mom would live a more meaningful life and she would have a stronger identity outside of her family? My mom invested everything in us because she was so disappointed in her marriage and in her connection with my dad. What if she had found someone who she could connect with emotionally, physically, and spiritually? Would she be healthier now? Happier? And in turn, would my brother and I have flourished because we were free to leave the house? To explore? If we hadn't felt obligated to babysit or care-take my mom, would we be able to find stronger senses of identities for ourselves?
I suppose this is all speculation. I'm just wondering now about all the things I've been scared to think about before. I leave a quote for myself in this entry: "What we do not know always seems to be terrifying. But what we know isn't necessarily better." I know my parents are together today. I know my mom is unfulfilled, lost, and passively waiting for the next step of her life. I know that my dad does not know how unhappy she is. I know that my brother has not found his identity yet. I know that I keep looking for relationships to give me stability and that I live in constant fear of abandonment and loss. Given all that I know at this point, I am beginning to wonder if what I don't know isn't so terrifying anymore.
They say dogs need rules, boundaries, and limitations. When pet-owners are inconsistent in their disciplining or in their training or even in their energies, dogs can sense the instability, and they will act-out. I've actually heard that humans are the only species that follow unstable pack leaders. Unlike us, animals can sense strength (or lackthereof) in one another; and they will choose to follow only that one who provides stability and security.
In my family-of-origin life, I have never had stability. In fact, I just had a very intimate talk with my mom about relationships, love, sex, and womanhood (another entry will definitely need to be written about that), and it turns out that she's never experienced stability either. If I can trace my insecurities and fears to the original point, I know that my fears come from my mom leaving me. I lived in fear mostly my whole life-- terrified that my mom would leave me and I would be stuck with my dad. My relationship with my dad has improved significantly over the past few years. On the surface, we are a happy, close-knit family, and in many ways, we are now. Kind of. But my childhood years were more overtly unhappy, and consistently unpredictable and fear-provoking. I have attributed that mostly to my mom's constant threats of divorce and taking my brother with her. I lived in perpetual fear that she would have abandoned me and left me with my dad.
In my talk with my mom tonight, she talked about her experience as a victim rather than the person who was always with the power of leaving. She talked about her experience of being a woman in an emotionally-unfulfilling marriage. She talked about losing her sense of self in her marriage and the sacrifices she has made since the beginning. She sacrificed herself in a marriage that even at the beginning, she knew wouldn't be good. But she believed that she loved him "more", so she decided to suffer and to go through with it.
Suffer. What a stupid, stupid word. Why did we ever decide to glorify that word as though it were badge of honor? In some cultures, and I'll talk specifically about the culture of traditional women as well as some East Asian cultures and some religious cultures, suffering is considered to be a virtue, and one that will give you extra credit in your next life. The mentality is that suffering will lead to better outcomes later, either for yourself or for someone else important to you.
The more I learn about suffering, the more I see its deleterious effects. My mom married someone that was incompatible with her. She felt suffocated from the irreconciliable differences but decided to "suffer"-- all the while vowing to divorce my dad one day so that she could leave one day and live her life her way. And while she thinks she's done something noble -- whether it's for my brother and I, or for the sanctity of marriage-- her suffering has made her a victim. And by default, it has affected the whole family too. I am completely messed up because of our family dynamic, and my brother surely is affected too.
Because of this suffering, because of this marriage, I have always felt stuck in the middle between everyone, always mediating everyone's fights, always trying to keep things as calm as possible in the fear that this family will be broken apart. I lived in fear my entire life, scared that my mom would leave, and that my family will be ripped to pieces. I felt even more scared for me, thinking my mom would leave me with my dad, and that I would never see her or my brother again. I lived in fear of my dad for so many reasons. The most basic ones because that he is just so different from all of us: his beliefs, his way of doing things, his values, etc. etc.
As I have grown older, I continue to be in relationships that are unstable and unpredictable. I stay with men who don't love me (but I can't let go of because they're like my dad and I feel guilty wanting to leave him too). In those same romantic relationships, I fear that I will be left because I have grown up being so scared about being abandoned by the one adult who was nurtured me. I felt she was my life raft in a deadly waterfall and I gripped onto her for dear life. It's different now that I'm an adult. As a parentified child who mediates my parents' fights (as well as their triangle disputes with my brother), I grow more and more protective of each of them. I am now concerned for them, and it's not just based on me losing my family. I feel like I need to take care of them, watch out for them, and be there for them. I fear for my dad that my mom will leave him one day. I fear for my mom what she would do if she were to ever leave. She does not have her own career or her income. She also has lost her identity in her marriage and in our family. As I talked with my mom tonight, she told me about the emotional emptiness she's experienced even when she got married. She talked about putting all her love, energy, attention, focus on the family. She talked about how she put every bit of herself into me and my brother and that we are her everything. Should my parents ever separate someday, even in their older age, what would that mean for my brother and me? How do we juggle taking care of both parents when they have done everything for us but are not able to co-exist together? How do you repay someone who dedicated her life entirely to you because she was so devoid of what she needed in her marriage?
My parents currently live apart right now for business reasons. My dad is abroad because his work requires him to be. When he retires one day, my mom and dad will likely reunite and live together again. What will that be like, we all wonder? My mom dreads the day that happens which I hadn't known. Apparently she doesn't want to even think of that day, and she does not know what the future holds for her and my dad. What does that mean, I asked? To which my mom responded with an answer I subconsciously knew. It all depends on the kids-- meaning me and my brother. Because my mom gave everything to this family, she will depend entirely on us. My mom's identity is rooted in us. Her livelihood rests in us. Her future depends on us. I already knew that before she even said it. I know that if she ever chooses to leave one day, she will rely on us 110% to give her a sense of stability, identity, and belongingness.
You see, when we were in high school, my brother and I would take-turns going out and staying home. We lived with just my mom and it felt selfish to leave her home alone when she would never do that to us. As an adult, because I have moved far away now, I don't actually have to face this all the time, but my brother does. I know he feels guilty when he goes out. For someone in his mid 20s, going out feels wrong because I'm sure he doesn't want to abandon my mom to leave her alone at home. My brother and I both have a strong sense of responsibility for my mom. We both know what it's like to feel unstable, and we both fear that she will feel unstable if we weren't home. And because I'm a little closer to my dad, I worry for my dad too. I wonder if he feels alone and what would happen should my mom ever leave him. What will become of him and his identity? He works so hard for us, for the family. What would losing her do to him?
As for my own issues in relationships I am slowly recognizing that my break-ups hit me hard because they always signify the end of my hope for stability. My original family doesn't have much stability, so I anticipated my future family to give me that. I projected all of my hopes and expectations onto my partner. I lost my identity in each relationship so that I could just blend in, adapt, and be accepted into whatever life my partner has. No wonder my relationships implode. If I were already married, I expect my life would be like my mom's. I would have no identity. I would be emotionally lonely and alone. I would have to invest myself in something else to compensate for the absence of emotional connection, the lack of stability once again.
I firmly believe now and today that suffering is unnecessary, and even worse, detrimental to yourself and your future generations. Is it my fault that I've tried so hard to keep my parents together over the years? Do I contribute to the dysfunction that affects my family collectively but also individually? Throughout my life, there has been nothing more scary than the thought of my family breaking up. As I reflect on this idea more rationally and in a less-detached manner, however, I can't help but wonder... what if they had divorced one another and gone on to find better partners for themselves? What if a divorce meant they would be happier? More fulfilled with their lives? What if separating meant that my mom would live a more meaningful life and she would have a stronger identity outside of her family? My mom invested everything in us because she was so disappointed in her marriage and in her connection with my dad. What if she had found someone who she could connect with emotionally, physically, and spiritually? Would she be healthier now? Happier? And in turn, would my brother and I have flourished because we were free to leave the house? To explore? If we hadn't felt obligated to babysit or care-take my mom, would we be able to find stronger senses of identities for ourselves?
I suppose this is all speculation. I'm just wondering now about all the things I've been scared to think about before. I leave a quote for myself in this entry: "What we do not know always seems to be terrifying. But what we know isn't necessarily better." I know my parents are together today. I know my mom is unfulfilled, lost, and passively waiting for the next step of her life. I know that my dad does not know how unhappy she is. I know that my brother has not found his identity yet. I know that I keep looking for relationships to give me stability and that I live in constant fear of abandonment and loss. Given all that I know at this point, I am beginning to wonder if what I don't know isn't so terrifying anymore.
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