Wise Words

A couple of days ago, I thought to myself it would be good to have a mentor. Someone older, someone who has seen the world in a bitter way, someone who has faced adversity, someone who has failed and yet be able to stand back-up and maintain their strength.

People see me as a strong person or at least they tell me this all the time, but I am blinded by my own strength. Or maybe they are all just liars and say these words to make me feel better.

Have you felt that uncomfortable feeling towards someone? To the point that their mere presence makes your skin crawl? That is how I feel about my dad. Because of this feeling, it took me 15 minutes of "yes"/"no" in my head to decide whether to go to Costco with my mom knowing my dad will be there so I can develop pictures. I decided to suck it up and go, because I really have a lot of pictures to print.

I broke-off and did my own thing, because there was no way I could look at his pitiful face one more minute. Until I saw my mom talking to two older Indonesian couples. They were older than my parents and was giving advice to her about what to do with my father's condition. She does not understand the meaning of WALKING AWAY, but would rather create an allusion for herself. Its great that she sees the glass half-full, but its overflowing.

It was very hard to refrain myself from spewing out all of the PAIN he put our family through. The man had a good point, he mentioned the issue of aging and that feeling of loneliness throwing in a pinch of traditional reasoning. My mom nodded in agreement as if his wisdom would be received by me and surrender to all of the shit. Well, it only deflected through me, because his condition is not one of aging, but one of mental sickness. This has been on going not only in the present, but in the past and most likely the coming future.

In an episode of Grey's, Meredith Grey said this and it hit home.

"I know I was out of line, and I know I can't possibly imagine what you've been through. But, I also know that this cannot be your daughters story. That she shot her dad 17 times to protect her mom, and you went back to him. You have to change her story while you still have a chance. For both of you. But for her, but for your little girl, you have to change her story."


I feel like that little girl whose mother never changed her story, but now as an adult I feel trapped.

On the other hand, something I learned from this past few days is that there are people who are willing to look out for me. I just need to find them. I never had much of a relationship with my aunts, but my particular aunt have always cared for me. She was always very kind-hearted. The other day I went shopping with her, she offered to buy me an article of clothing. It was not the material object, but her thoughts. It warms my heart, but also clenches it to the point that I want break down and cry. After the shopping date she reminded me to send her the list of things I needed for the apartment. I simply wanted hand-me-downs, but my other aunt calls me and she said that the aunt earlier mentioned had contacted her about my needs. She asked me what color pans I wanted. WHAT COLOR!??! Even down to the details.

That kind of care....THAT I rarely receive.

This deprivation, I need something like it back at Berkeley to keep me in line. To perserve my peace of mind.