In my last post I mentioned how talking about mental illness was a no no, especially in my family. How ironic that my closest cousin also has suffered from depression and anxiety? Our environment growing up, we were expected to get good grades, get into a good college, and listen to our elders (regardless of our own beliefs, wants or needs). We grew up in your traditional Asian home, primarily Filipino culture (Chinese/ Filipino and Korean/Filipino) We were never good at showing affection or emotions.
Growing up I can hardly remember ever saying “I Love you,” in our home. I grew up with my grandparents (I’ll write a separate blog regarding this) Don’t get me wrong, everything I have, who I am now, and my values I have my grandparents to thank! My grandma is the sole reason I am who I am, if it weren’t for her I truly would not know what my life would be like now? .
Who remembers anything before they were 6 years old? I certainly don’t, but long story short…
I was born here in California, but I ended up in the Philippines with my immediate family. It could have been due to the pollution or heat there, but I was in the hospital on a weekly basis, my grandma begged my parents to bring me back to California (at least that’s what she said.) To her other grandchildren she was Mommy Lola, but for me she was Mommy. I could go on and on about her and I will have a post solely on her, but let’s get back to what inspired this blog…
I had no idea that all these years someone else in my family was going through the same exact thing? As I’ve mentioned our family was not big on emotions. We were told to be good children, what exactly does that mean?! For our family it meant straight As, doing your chores without being told, being home right after school and do as we are told. I lived a sheltered life. I have also suffered not only emotionally, but mentally and physically within those four walls (I’ll save this for another day).
Most of the questions during dinners were and we rarely talked during dinner:
How was school? How are your grades? Why weren’t you home by 3 PM? Where were you? Who were you with?
Not once was I asked, “How are you?” At that time that was the norm. I didn’t even think twice about answering their questions. I didn’t even realize until now that we never talked about how we were feeling. In hindsight, starting from 4th grade all through college I wish my family asked how I was, but then again how would I have answered? Is that the reason why I can’t fully explain how I feel?
It is as if I have been programmed to block out emotions in general. How did I not see she was suffering? Were we just both really good at hiding it? Why did we hide it?
I can’t answer these questions for her, but for me… it was numerous things, but off the top of my head:
-FEAR
-Stigma
-thinking “it’s all in my head”
-Pressures from grandparents, school, work
-not wanting to admit I was different
–needed to be strong
-didn’t want to disappoint
-didn’t want to be labeled as crazy
–thinking”it’s just a phase”
I wish I wrote this sooner or had spoke out about sooner. I wish I could have seen the signs and we could have gone through it together. She is definitely like a sister to me and we have spent countless summers and days together. I’ve replayed so many memories in my head, all I can remember are happy days driving around, shopping, getting food and nights of laughter, studying, arts and crafts. I guess it’s a good thing that our memories together are positive moments, an escape.
Since my post from last night she has also taken the first step in seeking help and I could not be any prouder! My story has helped her realize she isn’t alone in this, not any more. We now have each other and I didn’t think it was possible but we feel closer to each other now than ever before.
Khaye's Khronicles 